Compassion (15 page)

Jaye

“Cute as a button,” my mother continues to gush about someone in her cooking club's latest grandchild.

No, you heard me correct. Cooking club. Not really the type to play Bridge or do the Desperate Housewife wine party thing, but her, Chris' mother Caroline, and a few other women they've collected along the way, started a cooking club. One woman hosts and cooks, the others eat and take the recipes they love. Always changing. Once a month and they pick the monthly type of cuisine out of a cookie jar. Yes. An actual cookie jar. You know I gave that thing to her for me and Chris' first Christmas as a couple.

“Speaking of kids, how was work?” Dad kindly asks reaching for his glass of wine.

Not wanting to discuss the nightmare of the day I had with my parents but rather than the man who prides himself on easing my troubles away, I simply reply, “It was work.”

Dad leans back in his seat. “Made any more progress on your book?”

My face scrunches. “I'm trying.”

He looks concerned but doesn't push the topic. Thankfully. “It's been a couple weeks since we've seen you. Anything new with you?”

Instantly Archer's crooked smirk pops into my face. Unable to stop myself from smiling as I result, I divert my attention down and poke my salad. “Um...I had the downstairs guest bathroom remodeled.”

His voice perks up. “Oh yeah?”

Meeting his eyes again, I nod. “Got the leak fixed. New shower head, new paint, new tile. It looks like a different bathroom.”

With a skeptical look he questions, “Is that all?”

I know what he's asking and I'm not ready for that battle. I'm just...not. Especially not after the day I had.

“Finally turning Chris' old office into one I can use.”

Disbelief floods my mother’s expression. “Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why would you mess with his office?”

“Because it shouldn't be
his
office anymore.” Pushing my plate away from me I continue, “I need it. I...want it. Anyway, it's been repainted and is being redecorated. The carpet is being ripped out to put in the tile that looks like hardwood. The new furniture just came in this week.”

The expression on her face doesn't change. “What about all of his things? Did you just throw them out?”

“Of course not.”

“It sounds like you're finally moving forward,” my father praises.

Proud, I nod at him. “I am.”

“And the garage?” She grips her wine glass tighter. “Did you clean that up too? Did you just discard that area next?”

“It's been cleaned and straightened up. His model cities are back in working condition, actually. Had some help.”

“Help?” Dad lifts his eyebrows. “Handyman?”

Skipping over the perfect opportunity to correct him, to tell them both who really has been helping me, I sigh, “Something like that.”

Do not add that's not why I call him handy! They don't need to know that!

“Seems a little fast,” my mother curtly comments and brushes the hair out of her face. “But I guess it was bound to happen. You need space for whoever takes his place.”

I twitch at her word choice.

“Now if only we could get you finding that person already...”

So close...She just couldn't let me have a moment of peace, could she?

Dad grumbles under his breath, “So close...”

Totally a Daddy's girl. Can you tell?

“What happened with Calvin?” The pushing of the topic has me checking my cell phone. “You know, you've skimmed over it every time we've tried to talk about it. Can you clue me into what happened? You seemed perfect for each other. Your kids would have been so smart and adorable. He reminded me of Chris with a medical degree.”

Such an odd cringe worthy sentence.

“He seemed a little bummed you never went on a second date.”

“Calvin had potential.”

“But?” When her eyebrows jump up wanting more information I know this conversation will not end without more. “What was he missing?”

He didn't make my panties soaking wet, make me crumble with a simple look, or make me feel like it's perfectly acceptable to just be in my own skin. You're right mother. He reminded me of Chris in all the wrong ways. No. No. Can't say any of that. Scratch it off the list. You know the easiest way to say it, right? He's not Archer.

“Sometimes it's just not a good fit, Maggie,” my dad comes to my rescue, eyes suspiciously looking me over. “She'll know when she finds it.”

With a small smile of gratitude, I reach for my glass to busy my mouth.

I have found it. Soon enough, not today, but soon, they'll see it. They'll meet him and be head over heels for him. Just...not yet. It's all about the timing.

**

The moment my two feet cross the threshold into the house, Archer looks up from the couch. His gorgeous green eyes wash away all of the tension being around my parents tends to build.

“There's my girl.” He's on his feet and headed my way before I've had a chance to drop my bags. Archer zones in immediately on the emotions I'm apparently radiating while I shed my accessories. “You look like you've had a helluva a day.”

“I have,” I softly sigh before wrapping my arms around his neck. He takes the invitation to brush lips against mine, his body cradling me close. After a light kiss, I add, “Better now.”

“Good,” he states and kisses me again. This time our tongues connect and desire to have orgasms falls over me and washes my brain clean of the tough day.

Can you think of a better way to forget your problems than mind blowing orgasms? And even though we aren't having sex, doesn't mean it's any less incredible. Just makes me wonder how much more incredible they're going to be when they're delivered with his cock.

Feeling his dick rise in his jeans, tempts me further. Unfortunately for me, he pulls back and starts moving us away from the door. “How was dinner with your parents?”

“As lively as ever,” I mutter. “Did you eat? I would've brought you home leftovers but-”

“I can make myself something to eat,” Archer insists as we flop down on the couch. “You don't have to worry about me all the time.”

I lean against the edge of the couch, which is when he pulls my feet into his lap. “Sorry. Habit, I guess.”

He winks. “Not the worst.”

Melting into his thumbs kneading at the arch on my foot, I somehow manage to ask, “How was your day?”

“Pretty good.” He digs in a little deeper. “Ran into Mr. Prescott on his way to see his mistress.”

“How do you know that's where he was going?”

“Could've been the paper convenience store bag in his hand with roses.”

“That...he could've been on his way to surprise, Gwen.”

“Or it could've been the way I overheard him promising the caller on the other end of the phone, his wife wouldn't be expecting him home until late or the way
he
ended his call in a hurry to someone he called Pussy Cat. Maybe it's just me, but Mrs. Prescott doesn't seem like a pussy cat. Bitch cat or just bitch, but not a pussy cat sort of nick name.”

The information stuns me.

Cheating bastard!

A rush of giggles comes out of me as I mutter to myself, “Pussy cat...” Shutting them off I scold him, “Never call me that.”

Archer smirks. “How about my Fat Bottomed Girl?”

With a good shake of my head, I snap, “No!”

“It's a good song though,” he sighs while his fingers still work their magic. “Classic.”

“I see you were listening to old school music while you worked today.”

“Little bit,” Archer offers me one more smile just as I release a moan caused by the spot he found. The sound causes his cock to rise against my ankle. Archer ignores it rather than caving. “So, what'd your parents say at dinner?”

“About what?”

“Us.”

My lips purse.

Archer's fingers stops. His head tilts to the side. “You didn't tell them.”

I move my mouth to make an effort to say something, but nothing comes out.

Not the best time to be speechless.

“Of course you didn't. Why would you?” He gives me a shrug. “What's there to tell? That you made a ludicrous choice not only to invite the homeless man who was scavenging in your garbage into your home but into your pants too?”

Hurt
,
yet not sure I deserve to be, I fight, “Archer-”

“Don't.” Very carefully he removes my feet from his lap and stands. “It's not worth the breath.” He gives his chin a rub. “I'm gonna go to bed a little early. It was a long day.”

Dropping my jaw to argue, I'm once more cut off.

“Finished the office by the way. Left you a surprise on your desk. Night, Jaye.”

My shoulders slump. As soon as I hear the garage door close, I ruffle my hair.

He didn't have to say it like that! And that's not why I didn't tell them. I just...I didn't feel like having that discussion with them. It's enough that every time I see my mother she's insisting I start dating, could you imagine her reaction if I told her not only that I had but that it was to a homeless man I invited to live with me. That I would rather date someone struggling to find their way in life than the award winning doctor she scoured the medical field for. Not even sure that first sentence would be finished before my father was calling in cop favors and my mother was trying to find a way to get me committed. They may both be loving, but you tell me what parents in their right mind would just be that accepting of this kind of situation? Hell, tell me a pair that would be willing to even listen!

More than ready to call it a day, I hop up off the couch, head for the stairs where I linger for a minute, debating whether to go push him or give him some space.

What do you vote? Space? Good idea.

Quickly rushing up the stairs, I head to the left driven by the curiosity of the office present waiting for me. I hit the light to the space with a smile. The beautiful chandelier he installed ties the new posh décor all together. We bought dark gray curtains, two leather lounge chairs, and a glass desk for them to sit across from. Behind it is a matching computer chair. Each of the walls have freshly painted bookshelves, the one to the left for my favorite adult books, the one to the right for my favorite kid books. Archer tore off the closet door to give me an open space for my art supplies as well as creating me a working area on the floor close to it.

He did that after I casually mentioned I was working on writing and illustrating my first kid's book. He even sat down and listened to me read the few lines I haven't scrapped yet.

Impressed by the finished product, I roll my eyes back to the glass desk where the gift is waiting to smack me in the face. Slowly, I reach for the silver picture frame.

             
Jaye,

             
Turns out Ms. Kelli around the corner needed help moving her ex-husband’s things to the curb. I would've done it for free, but she tipped me for the help. I know it's not much, but hopefully it's enough to start.