In 27 Days

by Alison Gervais

  Because of that night, he’d spent so long pushing everyone away outside his family—and even then I suspected he was never entirely upfront with his relatives about how he was feeling. Why would he be, when he clearly thought they mattered more than he did? Archer wouldn’t want anything to happen to his family, not like what happened to Chris, so he put them in front of himself. That kind of self-sacrifice was amazing to me, but I knew it also had to be so hard on Archer.

  “What are you still doing here?”

  I let out a shriek at the unexpected sound of Archer’s voice behind me, and spun on my heel, splashing soapy water everywhere. “Archer!” I gasped, clutching at the counter behind me, my heart racing a mile a minute. “I swear you should carry a bell with you or something. Don’t you make noise when you move?”

  Archer ignored me as he glanced around, leaning up against the doorjamb. “Why are you still here?” he repeated. “I heard everyone leave a while ago.”

  “Uh, yeah,” I said awkwardly. I bit my lip, turning back to the pile of dirty plates and cups still stacked on the counter beside the sink. “I just, um, wanted to help out with the dishes since there’s so many, and . . . uh . . .”

  Archer stared blankly at me while I struggled to come up with an excuse as to why I hadn’t gone home. His hair was a mess, like he’d repeatedly been running his fingers through it, and his eyes were bloodshot. I didn’t think he’d been crying, but he obviously wasn’t okay. It was painful to see him like this.

  “We have dishwashers.”

  “Um, right,” I said quickly. “I was going to put everything in the dishwasher, I was just, um . . . making sure that all of the food had been scraped off the plates.”

  Archer raised an eyebrow, his lips pressed together in a tight line, clearly not buying it.

  “Okay, fine. I’m still here because I wanted to see how Regina was doing. And you too. I was worried.”

  “Well, thank you for your concern, Hadley, but my mother and I are just fine.”

  I did not believe for one second that was the truth. And I think Archer knew I didn’t believe it. I crossed my arms in a defiant gesture, staring expectantly at Archer. He glared back in return.

  “Archer, I’m not as stupid as you seem to think I am,” I told him. “I know you’re definitely not fine.”

  “What I don’t get,” Archer said loudly, ignoring me as he picked up a stack of silverware and dropped it into the sink, “is why you’re still acting like any of this matters to you. This isn’t your family, and it’s not like we’re dating. What does it matter to you whether or not I’m fine?”

  “I know your family isn’t my family,” I said, hurt he would even insinuate such a thing. “Of course I know that. I just . . .”

  “Come on, Hadley,” Archer said, rolling his eyes. “You barely know me. You don’t need to act like I matter to you.”

  That one comment was finally enough for me to say what had been on the tip of my tongue for some time now. How could he think that I wouldn’t care about anything that he thought or felt or did?

  “Has it ever crossed your mind that I care about you?” I said, trying to fight back the swell of emotion rising in the pit of my stomach. “I get that maybe you’re not used to this, having a friend, but if you think I’m pretending—pretending to care about you and your family—then maybe you need a good old-fashioned reality check, because you’re obviously not seeing something.”

  Archer remained silent as I spoke. I could see the tension in his shoulders and by how tight he was clutching at the counter behind him. He was refusing to meet my eyes, and he kept looking to the kitchen door, like he was contemplating making a break for it. It wasn’t enough to keep me from saying what I did next.

  “You don’t get to decide who’s allowed to care about you or worry about you or make sure you’re okay. Life doesn’t work that way. I know I don’t understand everything that’s happened to you or your family. And maybe I never will. But I don’t have to understand to care.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, feeling unsteady on my feet as Archer finally lifted his gaze from his shoes. He was staring at me with this expression that I couldn’t describe—like he was actually seeing me for the first time.

  “Archer, I’m not lying when I say you’re my friend,” I said, telling myself not to stop now. “And you can hate it as much as you want, spout off as much as BS as you want, but I’m not going anywhere. Maybe next time, before you go making assumptions about how I feel, just try talking to me, okay?”

  I hadn’t realized how much I’d wanted to say those words until they finally left my mouth. And still, Archer said nothing. He took a step closer, and my heart immediately skipped a beat as he bit his lip, a determined look in his eyes.

  “I . . . I’m actually . . .” I swallowed hard, stumbling over my words. “I’m actually a good listener if you’d just give me a chance.”

  “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” Archer asked quietly. He seemed resigned, but also a little bit pleased. Like maybe he didn’t want me to let him go in the first place.

  “No, I’m not,” I said firmly. “You should know by now I’m always stubborn.”

  He opened his mouth, clearly wanting to say something, but nothing came out. We stood there in the middle of the kitchen for several moments, neither of us speaking. I was unsure if there was anything else I could say that would get my point across further. I’d known from the beginning that Archer was stubborn and hardheaded and wasn’t open to change in his life. But was it really too much to hope for that Archer was finally okay with being my friend?

  “I’m . . . I’ll just go now, then,” I said shakily, reaching over to pull the stopper in the sink, grabbing at a dishtowel to dry my hands. “I’ll still be here tomorrow at six, but I—”

  “Wait.”

  I was halfway through putting on my jacket as I turned back to give Archer a questioning look. “What?”

  He stepped closer, too close, gripping the fronts of my jacket, gently backing me up against the wall.

  “What are you doing?” I squeaked, distracted by how close he was. Too, too close. His hands were on either side of my head, against the wall, and he was leaning closer. My thoughts were racing a mile a minute. I only realized Archer was about to kiss me when his lips were just a few centimeters from mine. He was holding still, waiting for my reaction, whether or not I would shove him away or close the distance between us.

  And for some insane reason I didn’t entirely understand, I wanted that distance gone.

  “Archer.” I sucked in a breath, attempting to steady my breathing. “What are you doing?”

  He pulled back far enough to where our eyes locked. He gave a small sigh, biting his lip again, and I had the sudden, uncontrollable urge to be the one biting his lip. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Neither of us knew what to do next. We were just there, in that moment. It was as if every awful little thing that happened earlier today disappeared, and the rest of the world was breaking apart into little pieces and falling away.

  I took a deep breath, forcing myself to say the words maybe I should go home, because what were we doing? Was I really about to kiss Archer?

  “Before you open your mouth to say this is a bad idea,” Archer said, his fingers hovering over my neck, “don’t.”

  I reached up to lace my fingers through his hair to pull him toward me, and just as we were finally, finally about to kiss, I heard a loud, gruff, “Ahem.”

  Archer and I jumped apart so quickly, I smacked my forehead against his. Much to my horror, it was Victoria standing right beside us in the doorway, and she did not look amused.

  “When you’ve finished up in here, make sure you lock up, boy,” she said to Archer. “I’m going to bed.” She disappeared upstairs without so much as sparing me a second glance.

  As soon as she was out of earshot, Archer turned to me, saying, “Hadley, we need to—”

/>   Too embarrassed to do anything but run, I said, “I really should just be going now. You were right, it’s getting late. See you tomorrow!”

  I left through the back door as quickly as I could without tripping over my feet and landing flat on my face.

  And Archer didn’t follow after me.

  CHAPTER 19

  A Breach of Contract—11 Days Until

  I stumbled my way out of the apartment at half past five the next morning, barely able to keep my eyes open. It felt as if I’d gotten about two minutes of sleep before I was woken by my alarm. It was Black Friday, and Mama Rosa’s needed extra hands to keep up with the slew of people who were expected to be grabbing coffee and pastries in between stores.

  The night doorman managed to flag a cab outside to take me to the coffeehouse. I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to make it to the subway without falling down the stairs and passing out.

  I still wasn’t able to completely wrap my mind around everything that had happened last night. I had enough difficulty trying to understand Regina’s unexpected flashback, but then I had almost kissed Archer Morales too?

  My face burned bright red when I remembered the hard, intense look that had been in Archer’s eyes when he had backed me up against the wall and lowered his head toward me, so close I could almost feel his lips against mine. It wouldn’t have been my first kiss, but it would have definitely been a kiss worth remembering—that, I was sure of.

  But what had come over Archer to make him want to kiss me? He hadn’t ever shown any inclination that he thought of me in that way. Whatever the reason, I had to get my head in the game. I couldn’t afford to be distracted by thoughts of the “almost-kiss incident” today—not if I wanted to remain unscathed while attempting to make coffee and handling food.

  The lights were blazing in the kitchen as I slipped inside. I pulled off my jacket and scarf and hung them on a hook by the back door before cautiously heading to the kitchen.

  Victoria was at one of the ovens, pulling out a fresh tray of cinnamon rolls. She looked up and gave me an acknowledging nod as I walked in. I felt myself flush as I nodded meekly in return. I doubted I would ever be able to look Victoria in the eye again, let alone speak to her. How could I when she had walked in on me about to kiss her grandson?

  Archer stood at the kitchen sink, scrubbing out a few coffee pots with soapy water. He gave me a cursory glance and a small nod. I stopped in front of him, my mouth open, wanting to say something, but Victoria spoke up before I could.

  “Hadley, get a start on wiping down the tables, if you don’t mind, and then help me fill the pastry case.”

  “I . . . I’m . . .” I bit back a sigh. “That sounds good.”

  I quickly went about wiping down the tabletops, and then assisted Victoria in assembling the assortment of pastries in the pastry case.

  By then, Archer had already cleaned the grinder and espresso maker, stocked the small fridge up front with milk, half-and-half, and whipped cream, and was now counting the change in the till.

  “Archer, go open up,” Victoria said, striding out from the kitchen. “It’s six.”

  Archer acquiesced, heading to the front door.

  When I had been told that Black Friday was going to be tough, I was a bit skeptical. How bad could one day with a little extra work be? Mama Rosa’s was a coffee shop, not a department store. I was sure everyone had just been exaggerating.

  Sadly, I was mistaken. Very mistaken.

  By eight, my feet were aching and my arms were sore from hefting so many trays full of breakfast sandwiches, drinks, and pastries. Apparently, Mama Rosa’s really was quite a popular place to stop for food and a drink while catching a break from shopping; we were packed from opening, with a short break in the late afternoon, straight until closing.

  Waitressing gave me a better workout than any gym class ever could, and the fast-paced work proved to be a distraction. There was barely any time to even think about the events of Thanksgiving. And apart from the time where I almost dumped a latte down my front, things went as smoothly as they were capable of—which was more than I could’ve hoped for. It had been a miracle that Victoria, Archer, and I managed to make it through the day without any extra help. I kept expecting Regina to show up to assist us later on in the day, but she didn’t, much to my dismay.

  I let out an exhausted groan as I flipped off the neon open sign and twisted the locks home on the front door a little after seven in the evening. “Remind me never to make my career in retail or the food industry.”

  Victoria let out a bark of laughter as she counted the day’s earnings at the register. “You say that now, girl. Just wait. In this day and age, you take what you can get.”

  Victoria gave orders to sweep and mop every inch of the coffeehouse, to make sure the kitchen was cleaned spotless, and that the leftover pastries were wrapped and set aside for the deliveryman stopping by tomorrow morning. As soon as she finished issuing instructions, she marched off, presumably upstairs.

  I grabbed the bin behind the counter and got to work collecting dirty cups, bowls, and plates left on the tables. I’d cleared off nearly half of the tables before I looked over and saw that Archer was leaning against the counter, eating a sandwich.

  I frowned. “Aren’t you going to help?”

  Archer grunted out something that sounded like, “When I’m done.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  He shrugged and strolled off into the kitchen without another word.

  So I flipped on the old handset radio on the counter by the till, which was set to some classic station, then finished clearing the dishes off the tables. After I disinfected the tabletops and rearranged the chairs, I carefully wrapped each pastry in plastic wrap as instructed and set them neatly in a box for the deliveryman.

  I took a break just long enough to make me a quick cup of chai tea—I needed all the extra caffeine I could get my hands on—and pulled out the broom and dustpan and got to sweeping.

  I was heading to the kitchen for the mop and bucket after sweeping when I realized that the radio wasn’t playing music anymore.

  There was something about the silence in the place that was . . . strange. Not right. I was hit with a sudden rush of cold air that made me shiver and wrap my arms around myself.

  There had been a fire crackling away in the grate all afternoon to help combat the frigid temperature outside, which had given off warmth and a pleasant smell of chestnuts, but now the room felt as cold as a glacier.

  I headed over to the fire grate and grabbed a poker, hoping that if I shifted the logs around enough, I’d get some heat back in the place. I crouched down beside the grate and started jabbing at a few logs.

  “Hello again, Hadley.”

  I spun on my heel, throwing out an arm to grab hold of a nearby chair when I almost lost my balance.

  The man from the grocery story was lounging casually on the sofa. He gave me a lazy smile, legs crossed and arms tucked behind his head.

  “What . . .” My voice cracked when I tried to speak. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  The man’s smile widened, though it seemed as if he was baring his teeth instead of smiling. A shudder of fear ran through me.

  “No need to look so frightened,” the man said in his polished English accent. “I assure you, I’m not here to cause you any trouble . . . At least not yet, of course.”

  “How . . .” I looked over to the front door. The locks were still in place. “I just locked the doors. How did you get in here?”

  If he had snuck in through the back, surely Archer would have seen him. Unless Archer had followed his grandmother upstairs, leaving me behind to do all of the work. The thought that I was alone with this man, whoever he was, had my palms sweating and my stomach churning.

  The man wiggled his fingers at me, still smiling. “I have my ways.”

  As he moved his hand, I saw the awkwardly shaped, crisscrossing black symbols tattooed all over his fingers, running up the
sleeve of his suit. They were eerily similar to the ones on my own forearm, except that they didn’t form any numbers.

  “You work with Death.”

  No other explanation made sense.

  He gave a graceful shrug of his shoulders. “Oh, I wouldn’t say I work with Death, but of course I do know the old chap. He and I go way back, you see.”

  There was something about the smirk that twisted his lips as he said Death’s name that was not comforting. Whoever this man was, I got the feeling he wasn’t on Death’s side.

  I tightened my grip on the fire poker, almost brandishing it. “I think it might be a good idea if you leave.”

  “But why?” The man was pouting now. “I’ve only just gotten here. I was hoping we could have a little chat.”

  “Sorry,” I said. My hands were starting to shake. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to keep from fainting if I stayed in close proximity with this man any longer. “I’m not interested.”

  “Oh, it’s nothing too unpleasant, dear girl, I promise. It’ll be quick and painless.” He patted the space on the couch beside him. “Have a seat.”

  A sliver of ice slipped down my spine as he said quick and painless. “I’m fine where I am, thanks,” I managed to say.

  The man shrugged again. “So be it. I hope you will forgive me for not beginning the introductions sooner,” he said, as if readying himself for what was to be a very long conversation. “I was merely so excited to finally have the chance to speak with you earlier. And now that I’ve gotten a better look at you, I have to say . . .” The man rubbed his jaw with a large hand, tilting his head to the side as his eyes traveled me up and down. I held the fire poker closer to my chest. “I’m not all that impressed. You’re very ordinary, aren’t you? I can’t imagine what Death sees in you.”