Archer is off today and is hopefully still sleeping. He texted me on his way home, which wasn’t until two a.m. I didn’t see his text until I got up in the morning. I forgot the Zofran at home this morning, and I don’t think I can win this battle against my sour stomach. Leaning back in my chair, I debate on getting up and barfing in the bathroom or staying here and hope no one sees me leaning over the trashcan next to my desk.
Closing my eyes, I rest a hand over my stomach and pray neither has to happen. My office phone beeps. Feebly, I reach up and hit the button to put it on speaker.
“Ms. Dawson?” Charlene’s overly sweet voice rings out. She uses what Marissa and I call her ‘office-fake’ voice when she calls me.
“Yes?” My eyes are still closed, and I don’t move.
“There’s a delivery for you.”
“Can you bring them back?” Normally, I’ll go up and get any sort of delivery myself, but barfing in the lobby wasn’t on my list of options.
“I’ll be right there.”
I take a deep breath, grab my water and take a few small sips and feel a bit better. I expect the delivery to be a computer part I ordered yesterday, not a big bouquet of yellow and white flowers. I don’t need to read the card to know they’re from Archer.
“You must have a secret admirer,” Charlene says as she sets the vase down.
“He’s not secret.” I’m smiling as I stand, reaching for the card. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“I didn’t realize you were dating anyone.” Her fake voice reaches a new level of pitch. “Is it Jacob again?”
I open the little envelope and pull out the card. If I were dating anyone else, it wouldn’t seem weird to mention him. Though given the fact Rene is Charlene’s best friend and she tried to hook up with Archer, it feels like I’m name dropping in a way. “No.” I look up and smile. “It’s Archer.”
She blinks, trying to put things together. Archer isn’t the most common name, but it’s not unheard of either.
“The guy we introduced you to?”
It was obvious Archer and I knew each other before then, but that’s the kind of subtle bitch Charlene is.
“I’ve known Archer for years. He’s my brother’s friend and we recently started going out.”
“Oh. Nice.” She waits for me to continue, but there’s nothing more to say to her. She’s never cared about my personal life and the same with me about hers.
“Thanks for bringing the flowers back here.”
She fakes another smile before leaving, and I sit back down, feeling slightly less nauseous with the distraction of the flowers, and read Archer’s card.
Quinn-
Ten years ago I overheard you say roses are cliché. I hope you still think so.
-Archer
I read the card three times, smiling harder each time. I center them on the accent table that sits in front of a large window and call Archer.
He answers after three rings and sounds like he just woke up.
“I got the flowers. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Don’t go crying on me now.”
I blink back tears. “I can’t help it. It’s all the hormones.”
Archer laughs softly. “As long as we don’t talk about eagles you should be fine, right?”
“Don’t get me started on that,” I laugh. “When did you have time to send me flowers? You’ve been working nonstop.”
“Yesterday.”
My heart swells in my chest and the doubts I had about my feelings start to go out the window. “Thank you again. It made my day and now I can’t stop smiling.”
“That’s what I hoped for.”
“Did I wake you? I’m sorry if I did.”
“You didn’t. My mom called about half an hour ago and woke me up.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, and I can hear the annoyance in his voice just from one little word. “Bobby is being released. They’re taking him back home and getting him into rehab again.”
“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”
“It’s pointless,” he sighs, and a few seconds of silence tick by. “How are you feeling today?”
“Like I’m going to throw up at any second,” I confess. “I forgot the Zofran at home too.”
“I’m sorry, babe. What about your wrist?”
I look down at the messily wrapped ACE bandage. “Still the same.” It’s actually a little worse, but I don’t want to tell Archer that and make him feel bad. It’s my fault anyway. I unwrapped it and tried to type. I’m a fast typer and only using one hand is annoyingly slow. We talk for a while longer until I have to get back to work.
When I do, I have a hard time concentrating. Time goes by slowly, and when the end of the day arrives, I’m so ready to go home. I’m debating on taking the flowers home or leaving them here when someone knocks on my office door. Turning around, I see Jacob. He waves and steps in.
“Hey. I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say.
“I was passing by and was hoping to talk to you.” He leans against the wall, eyeing the flowers behind me.
“Sure. What about?”
He flashes a smile, looking a little nervous. “Do you have plans tonight? I hoped we could talk about it over dinner.”
“She has plans with me,” Marissa says, peering into my office from the hall. “Sorry. I mean, if you want to crash our girls’ night, you can. But be prepared to talk about periods and how awful men can be.”
Jacob turns and I mouth thank you to Marissa. “Oh, I don’t want to infringe.”
“Another time,” I say and then realize that might be leading him on. Though I don’t know why going to dinner, paying for my own food, and talking and having a nice time as friends is leading him on. Men can be friends with women. Not all men look at women as sexual objects put here to tempt them into eternal damnation.
“Okay,” Jacob says with a smile. “I’ll be out of town for the next few weeks, so I’ll get ahold of you when I get back.”
“If you’re taking a long vacation I’m totally jealous.”
“One of those few weeks is vacation. I’m leading a training group in California.”
“Fun.”
He makes a face. “I know, right? Now, if this were January and I got to go away somewhere warm, that would be a different story.”
I trade my shoes for a more comfortable pair to walk in and grab my purse. Jacob takes a step back and walks along with me to the lobby. Marissa is waiting, and the three of us get in the elevator together, along with a handful of others. I get slight anxiety when so many people cram in. Just wait for the next one. It’s not like it’s that long of a wait. If we got stuck all crammed in here like sardines, I’d probably have a panic attack.
Jacob goes the opposite direction, and I thank Marissa again.
“No problem. But I really do think we should do something tonight.”
“Want to come over? I have a lot of wine I can’t drink and I kind of want to order a pizza.”
“You had me at wine.”
I put my hand over my stomach, feeling that dull ache come back. It’s not sharp or shooting like it was before, which matched the description of round ligament pain that I read about on the internet. It’s more like an impending period cramp mixed with an I-have-to-poop kind of cramp. Having a crampy stomach when I need to go isn’t anything new for me, but right now, I’m having a hard time distinguishi
ng which part of me is actually hurting.
Marissa just left, and I’m doing laundry while talking to Mom on the phone. She’s checking in like she always does, and only mentions the gender reveal party fifty times. I fold the last of my towels and set the stack on top of my coffee table. Luna jumps up and sits on them, knocking the stack over. I purse my lips and look at her, shaking my head.
“So,” I interject the moment there’s a lull in the conversation. “I met Archer’s brother.”
“Robert? How’s he doing? I feel bad to say I haven’t asked about him in years.”
“Not too well. I didn’t know how bad off he was. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I wouldn’t say we deliberately didn’t tell you, but it didn’t directly concern you and you were rather young when Archer first started staying with us.”
I look at Neville and roll my eyes. My parents and my brothers have always been overprotective. Though I’m being biased right now because Archer is my boyfriend.
“And Archer never wanted to talk about it. I never knew the full details, honey.”
“Oh, I thought you did.”
“He let us know what was going on the first time he stayed with us, and we could tell how uncomfortable it made him to talk about it. We told him he didn’t need to explain. He knew he was welcome whenever, and Dean would simply text me and tell me if he was bringing Archer back with him when he left home. We knew Robert struggled and didn’t want Archer to feel like he owed us an explanation.”
And now I’m suddenly emotional by my mother welcoming Archer with no questions asked. I hope I’m at least half as good a mother as she is.
“Boots!” Mom yells at one of her dogs. “Drop it. Drop it. I said drop it.” Dog tags jingle and one of the other dogs bark. “He’s been terrible with getting things out of the garbage lately.”
That’s why I like cats. They’re much easier.
“I’m going to have to call you back.” Mom sighs heavily. “I need to pick up this trash before your father gets in the house. Love you, honey.”
“Love you too.”