Page 12 of Gideon’s Gratitude (Love in Mission City #5)

I’d come in once with Leo and the kids. Melodie had been the one to insist she get the licorice. I’d been the one to finish it when she discovered she didn’t like it. Waste not, want not.

“Is everything okay?” Archer’s brow had a little crease. It didn’t mar the man’s beauty, though.

“Sorry. Just thinking about the last time I was here.”

“Clearly not a pleasant memory. Why did you suggest we come here?”

I rubbed my forehead, as if I could push away the pain. The physical and the emotional. “The memory was wonderful. What came after…yeah, not so much.”

“It’s not my place to pry—and you’re free to tell me to mind my own business—but something’s troubling you. I’m not always the most empathetic person, but I need to know how to read people. Critical skill, in my line of work.”

“Your line of work…” How far down the rabbit hole was I willing to go?

Oh, what difference does it make? You’re never going to see him again.

He’ll be next door. With his fancy friends. Not hanging out with you.

“I, uh, had an awful experience with a divorce lawyer. Well, with two.”

Archer, who had been mid-sip, put the glass down. “I’m presuming you’re divorced. Or about to become—”

“Oh, it’s a done deed. I’m no longer a married man.

” I fingered the indentation from the missing wedding band.

I’d wanted to keep wearing it, but Leo asked me not to.

Said it’d be too hard on the kids. Children of six and four weren’t likely to understand, but I decided argument for its own sake wasn’t worth the hassle.

I returned the ring at their final meeting.

Leo attempted to do the same, but I’d stopped him.

For the children. In case either of them ever wanted them.

“There’s tremendous sadness within you.”

Duh. “I think most divorced people are sad.”

Archer twirled his straw. “No, not all. Plenty of people come to my office seeking release from the shackles of marriage.”

“Like they’ve met someone else.” Leo hadn’t cheated—that I knew about, anyway. No, I was the reason for the divorce, not Leo.

Now a casual shrug. “Do extramarital affairs occur? Of course. Sometimes there are good reasons.”

“There’s never a good reason for cheating.” My gaze had never wandered. No seven-year itch. No reconsiderations. Just fullhearted dedication.

“Perhaps.” Another swirl. “I’ve had clients who are in abusive marriages who need a way out. Men and women,” he was quick to add.

Again, nothing I could relate to. There’d been some emotional abuse in my parents’ marriage, but they’d stuck it out.

Occasionally I wondered why my mother didn’t leave, but—in my heart—I’d known the answer.

Financial considerations. They were barely scraping by.

Living just above the poverty line. Her leaving would’ve destroyed the family.

For whatever that’d been worth. In the end, it’d been decimated anyway.

“Might I ask why you got divorced?”

Wow, talk about a personal question . “Since you asked nicely—”

Archer frowned.

“Basically, my husband couldn’t trust me anymore.

I betrayed his trust, and he couldn’t forgive me.

No cheating or anything like that. And even as I say the words, I can’t believe they’re true.

I mean, I’d like to think I might be willing to forgive, if our situations were reversed.

But, nope, he insisted the marriage was over.

We’d been together seventeen years and had two beautiful children.

Now? Nothing. Gone. Like it never happened.

” Except the twice-monthly video chat with the kids.

“I didn’t realize you were gay.” Archer waved his hand. “Sorry, completely inappropriate thing to say.” He placed his hands flat on the table. “Have you lost custody as well?”

I bit my lower lip.

Don’t cry.

“Yeah, part of the divorce agreement. I’d love to say it’ll be revisited eventually, but likely not.

I get video chats with the kids, but it’s not the same.

They’ll grow older, and I’ll become a distant memory.

I suspect there’ll come a time when they’re not interested at all.

Or Leo will remarry, and I’ll be nothing more than an afterthought.

Someone who used to be important but isn’t any longer, you know? ”

“That does—to an outsider—appear a bit extreme. Was there abuse?”

I shook my head.

“Neglect?”

I shook my head. But then added, “Not intentional.”

“Often it isn’t.” Archer tapped his index finger. “If you want to fight for custody— some kind of parental rights—I can do that on your behalf.”

“I can’t afford you.” Plain and simple. I thrust down the flare of hope.

“I do plenty of pro bono work.” Something flashed across his face. “I mean, I wouldn’t be able to start for a bit, but likely before Christmas. If you need it sooner, I might be able to refer you—”

“I don’t need it sooner. I don’t need it at all. The judge signed off on it. My lawyer recommended it. His lawyer insisted on it. He demanded it. Everyone believes it’s a good idea. Who am I to argue?”

“You’re the father of those children, and you love them.”

God, that hurts. That really hurts. “Sometimes love isn’t enough.”

An echo of the words Leo’d said at our last meeting. That’d been the final blow. Because it meant Leo still loved me. Just as I loved Leo. Too high a wall to scale, this forgiveness thing.

“Fresh off the grill for you.”

Sarabeth’s appearance caught me off guard.

Archer as well, since he startled.

I leaned back while she placed the burger platter before me, and my companion pushed aside the glass to make room for the plate.

The grin he gave Sarabeth was wide and toothy.

Those damn perfect teeth again.

“You guys need anything?” She pointed. “Ketchup is on the table. ”

When we shook our heads, she nodded and headed over to another table. Within moments, her laughter carried across the room.

“She seems quite content in her position.” Archer poked a fork at the hot dog. “I could make a joke about the size of this thing, but I suspect it would be inappropriate.”

That made me smile. The prim-and-proper lawyer making a joke about length amused me. I popped a French fry into my mouth. Then quickly sipped the shake. She hadn’t been kidding when she said fresh off the grill. To bide my time, I poured some ketchup off to the side.

Archer continued to scrutinize his food.

“A knife and fork will work just fine.”

Another long look. “Feels inappropriate.”

“It’s a dinner, not a hot-dog stand. No one expects you to scarf down that monstrosity without help from a knife and fork.”

“Yes, I suppose utensils will be required.”

“It’s like you’ve never eaten a hot dog in your life.” This time, the fry I popped into my mouth was cooler. I sized up the burger, planning the best strategy.

“Well, I suppose I have. I mean—” He scrunched his nose. “—perhaps in the fourth grade. We went to an amusement park, and my parents insisted.”

My eyebrow shot up. “You don’t eat hot dogs?” I hadn’t eaten so many when it’d just been me and Leo, but the kids adored them, and I found it easier to feed everyone the same meal at the same time.

Don’t go there.

Archer scooped up some chili with cheese sauce on it. “You must think me peculiar. My parents were big on nutrition. I’m pretty certain my siblings bent the rules—or, frankly, broke them—but hot dogs have a lot of nitrites. I probably shouldn’t be eating this one. ”

I picked up my burger. “One will not be your death. Unless you choke on it. One hot dog, one beer, one soda, one burger. It’s when you eat a bunch of bad things that things go wrong.” I dropped my burger. “Overindulgence. Excess. Addiction. Not being able to stop.”

“You know of which you speak.”

“Maybe.” Why did I want to open up to this man? Tell him everything?

Because he’s safe.

We’d likely never see each other again. Two ships passing in the night. I’d go back to my mid-century home, and he’d complete and move into his monstrosity of a mansion.

I startled when he laid his hand on mine.

“Lawyers also make good counselors—for other people. We’re crap at doing it for ourselves.

As they say, lawyers make the worse clients.

I’m quite certain the woman I hired to handle my divorce didn’t think highly of me.

But I paid her, and she did what I asked, so that was an end to it. ”

“You?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. Over fifty percent of all marriages ended in divorce. Mine had. Why not Archer’s?

“Me.” As if realizing what he’d done, he withdrew his hand.

“I married Thea, believing the commitment to be lifelong. I believed she felt the same way. I was wrong.” He rubbed his nose with his knuckle.

“Now, I want to hear everything you’re willing to share, but I must insist we eat first.” He ate the forkful of chili, and his grin increased. “This is delicious.”

I eyed my burger. You need to eat . My headache lurked just below the surface. Too much longer without food, and it’d likely come back with some force. I picked up the burger, angled my head, and took a bite .

The sweet caramelized onions hit my tongue first. Next came the seasoned patty and the soft bun. The bacon flavor made itself known at the end. Just as I remembered. Stunningly delicious.

Archer groaned around a mouthful of hot dog.

Huh, never ate hot dogs? Always ate healthy, then? His body reflected that. “You work out a lot?”

The man nodded. “Several times a week. Running, weights, and circuit training. I need to keep myself in shape.”

Don’t we all.

“And you?” A dribble of chili escaped his lips and slid down his chin.

On instinct, I nabbed a napkin, leaned over, and caught the liquid before it left skin and traveled to the very expensive shirt.

His eyes grew impossibly large. Our gazes held.

Finally, after a very long moment, I sat back. “Kids.”

He cocked that damn eyebrow again.