He parked near my car without saying anything, and for a second, neither of us moved. The silence between us was thick, but not uncomfortable. More like a pause we both didn’t want to break.
Then I saw it.
Another rose.
Balanced delicately on my windshield, petals a little wilted, edges curled from the heat of the day and the faint suggestion of cooling off as night crept in. But it was there. Still waiting. Still chosen.
A soft breath left my chest, as Archie glanced over.
He didn’t ask.
His eyes lingered on the small, folded card nestled beneath the bloom—edges lifting in the breeze—but he didn’t speak. Just stared at it for a second longer than casual, then looked away, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
I still didn’t know who the secret admirer was. The roses were nice, but I was already walking a tightrope between too much and not enough.
“Thanks for today,” I said instead, turning to him.
Archie smiled, soft and crooked. “Anytime.”
He meant it. That was the hardest part.
His hand flexed on the steering wheel like he wasn’t ready to let go of the moment yet. Like maybe, if he stalled long enough, I’d lean across the console and kiss him. Or confess something. Or say I’d chosen him.
But I didn’t.
Because I hadn’t.
Not yet.
What would it be like to kiss him?
“You wanna come over?” he asked, casual, like it was just another offer, like there wasn’t a world of meaning tucked behind the question. Or like I wasn’t imagining what his lips would feel like on mine.
I gave a little half-laugh, more exhale than sound. “I can’t. I have to feed the cats.”
His lips twitched. “You’re already late. They’re gonna be mad.”
I shrugged, chuckling “You don’tknowthe half of it.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I’ve heard Tiddles bitch you out. He is not subtle.”
“Exactly.”
There was a beat of silence between us. The good kind. The safe kind. The kind we used to live in before everything got complicated. Today had been the strangest combination of wonderful and weird. I called out of work, something I never did, and Marsha hadn’t batted an eyelash. She just told me to rest.
He nodded slowly, then leaned back in his seat. “Call me when you get home?”
I looked at him. “Archie?—”
“Don’t make it a thing,” he said gently. “Just… call. That way I know you got in safe. That’s all.”
I hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. I will.”
He waited as I got out, watched me walk to my car. He didn’t drive off. Not until I was inside, door shut, engine turned over.
Only when my headlights flicked on did he finally pull away.
I sat there a moment longer, my fingers loose on the steering wheel, the scent of the rose already filling the car—faint and fading, but still there.
