Four people were waiting for him at the rear end of Gianni’s, where it was relatively quiet.
Bellie waved him over. Beside her was a pretty, dark skinned woman. She shared so many features with her sons sitting opposite that he could immediately tell who she was.
The boys were identical, tall and lanky, both wearing headphones and looking at the floor, avoiding eye contact.
This was their second meeting. The first time had been with Alex, and Bellie had let him excitedly make the introductions.
Folake Abrams, in a turtle neck and jeans instead of nurse’s scrubs like their first meeting, greeted him warmly as he sat down.
“Hello, Ethan and Nathan.” he said, addressing the boys directly, “Hope you are doing well today?”
Still not looking up, the boy wearing red with a big white E on the sleeve answered. “I am fine, Mr. McKnight.”
The boy in blue, with a yellow N on his chest, rubbing his hands, pronounced himself fine too. “I am fine too, Mr. McKnight.”
They had explained what they were building at their first meeting; “A platform,” Nathan had said quietly. “For making and sharing games.”
His brother nodded rapidly, still not looking up. “But it keeps crashing. The operations tangle when multiple games run. Making the conditionals stricter doesn’t work.”
Archer nodded and asked, even though Alex had mentioned it already. “What language are you using?”
“AX+.”
Archer knew the language. But it was relatively new and he was far from an expert. “Can I take a look?”
The code on their laptop screens had made his eyebrows rise. It was remarkably sophisticated. But even more so, it was very organized, precisely bracketed, indented and exhaustively commented.
He swiftly saw that they had created a virtual environment where users could build, test and share their own games, complete with asset management and a physics engine.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the keyboard. At their nods, he began scrolling through their work, increasingly impressed.
“See?” Nathan said, pointing at a particular block of code. “The conditional operations aren’t processing fast enough when multiple games are running.”
His brother nodded rapidly. “We just need better conditionals. More precise ones.”
He frowned slightly. Their conditional processing was beautifully written – clean, logical, precise. He began to trace through the execution paths.
“This is… interesting,” he said carefully, when he got somewhere. “Have you considered how the operations are being distributed?”
“We split them,” the Nathan said. “Each game instance has its own process thread.”
“But they still have to synchronize,” his brother added, frustration creeping into his voice. “We just need to make the conditionals more exact.”
“The conditionals need to be more precise,” Nathan declared. “The branching logic isn’t granular enough.”
“We just need to refine the conditionals,” Ethan agreed, his fingers tapping rapidly on the table.
Folake had been watching closely. “They’ve been stuck on this for weeks,” she said softly.
The boys were clearly distressed at their lack of progress. With their mother’s nod of approval, they had given him access to their repository.
But not before he had signed the non-disclosure agreement they had presented – surprising both their mother and Bellie – both physically and online.
He had been amused. Then he had been impressed. Very impressed.
It took several days to examine their code, later in the apartment or during the rare lulls at his desk at Nexus.
Tens of thousands of lines produced over months of sitting in front of their laptops, obsessively typing away, often forgetting to eat or refusing to sleep until some milestone is reached.
Even so, their wonderfully useful insistence on exhaustively categorizing, labeling, tagging and then commenting their code made reading and comprehending their work, even in AX+, fairly effortless.
Within days, he had found himself mimicking their coding style at work and then with the Coding Legion, urging them to develop and adopt a uniform coding style guide of their own.
Alex had been proud, but Elise had run with it even as Henry decided to assemble a library of helper functions. He surprised everyone when he firmly told Elise to back off when she joined the effort with Ruchi and inevitably attempted to take over. Everyone was even more surprised when she meekly stepped back and followed his lead.
Archer concentrated on the twins’ work. Logically, their approach was flawless, hence their natural neurodivergent fixation on it; it would certainly work in a linear environment. But what they’d built was far more complex, meaning their current linear, methodical approach was hitting a wall they couldn’t see yet.
In the present, Archer said, “Let me show you something,” as he opened his own laptop.
For his own understanding, he had diagrammed out what he understood of their approach. He showed it to them to help him illustrate.
“Right now, you’re trying to write rules for every possible combination,” he explained. “That’s why the conditionals keep getting more complex. You can’t possibly account for them all.”
“Instead of trying to control everything,” Archer continued, “what if we let the system decide when things need to run separately?”
Nathan’s hands stilled. “The operations still need controls …”
“Not control – management,” Archer said. “There’s a difference.”
He saw Folake lean forward, interested despite everything very likely meaning gibberish to her.
He caught Bellie looking at him.
“Look,” Archer said, typing. “Each instance should work on its own – you’ve done that brilliantly. But right now, you’re trying to write rules for every possible way platform elements might affect each other.”
He drew another diagram. “Instead, we could let the system analyze and decide what works best. When it gets to a particular complexity threshold, it automatically splits them to run separately.”
“But the rules need to be more precise,” Ethan insisted, struggling with a change in direction.
“The rules will be precise,” Archer said. “We’re just letting the system decide when, and where, to use them.”
He saw Folake touch Ethan’s shoulder, her eyes going to her other boy, who had gone quiet, processing.
Ethan calmed, his eyes going toward Nathan, without looking up. Nathan’s hand rubbing had slowed.
“Think of it like traffic,” Archer suggested. “When there aren’t many cars, they can share the road. But when it gets busy, some cars automatically get redirected to different routes.”
Both boys went still, absorbing the analogy. Ethan’s finger tapping stopped.
“The system decides?” Nathan asked, his hands still moving slowly, thoughtful.
“At runtime? Or compile time?” Ethan queried.
“Compile, mostly.” Archer said, thinking. “With probabilistic modeling. But we would also make a runtime version to handle anything missed by the compiler.”
Ethan, surprisingly, nodded first. Nathan followed a second later. Archer was relieved.
“Let me show you what we could do …” Archer began to type, then halted. “I’m going to use Zebra. Is that okay?”
“Yes.” The twins said simultaneously.
“Okay,” Archer said. “Because I’m not so good with AX+ yet. So I will just show you what the branching code should look like in Zebra.”
The boys nodded.
Archer saw Folake and Bellie share a smile as the boys leaned forward, watching his screen.
Then the women turned their smiles toward him.
“Mr. McKnight,” Folake said, a while later, as they were preparing to leave.
“It’s Archer,” he corrected, smiling.
Folake smiled back. “Okay then, Archer. I just want to thank you. This means a lot. Most people don’t take the time to understand how they think.”
“The way they think and organize their code is really impressive,” Archer said honestly. “And what they’re doing is just brilliant. Like they are. They just … see things differently.”
When he turned back, he found Bellie staring at him again. He raised a questioning eyebrow.
She blinked, as if just waking up. Then she smiled.
__________________
The scent hit Archer before he even opened the apartment door … garlic, butter, herbs, and something rich and savory that made his stomach rumble. He’d been so focused on the new project at Nexus that he’d worked through lunch, planning to grab something quick when he got home.
When he opened the door, he paused in surprise. The apartment was transformed … lights dimmed low, the soft amber glow of the floor lamps illuminating the space. Some mellow amalgam of jazz and RnB played from Bellie’s small bluetooth speaker, slow and … intimate. And there was Bellie, apron over a bralette and side-slit harem pants, moving confidently around the kitchen.
She glanced up at his entrance, a smile spreading across her face. “You’re right on time.”
Archer stood there, momentarily speechless. The way the soft light caught the generous curves of her body as she moved, the easy confidence in her movements … it struck him with near physical force. He’d been carefully compartmentalizing his awareness of her physical beauty, telling himself that their arrangement was practical, platonic.
Maintaining that separation was going to be almost impossible at this rate.
He had certainly noticed how much less coverage her clothing choices offered in recent weeks. She routinely stepped out of her room in a crop top, sports bra, yoga shorts, leggings that clung to every beautiful curve, a strange almost-smile on her full lips when their eyes met.
He’d considered speaking to her about it, but, ultimately, he had chosen not to. He had told himself it was to avoid making her uncomfortable, that it was still her apartment and she should be able to dress however she liked. But he knew it was mostly because, secretly, guiltily, he was enjoying the display of raw unabashed femininity.
“What’s all this?” he asked, setting down his laptop bag and moving toward the kitchen.
Bellie stirred something in a large skillet, the rich aroma intensifying. “Spinach, chicken and shrimp alfredo,” she announced with pride. “My first solo flight.”
Archer peered over her shoulder at the creamy sauce flecked with herbs, the perfectly sauteed shrimp. “I’ve never made this with you.”
“That’s because I didn’t learn it from you,” she replied with a mischievous smile. “VidOnline tutorial. But I used everything you taught me about seasoning and tasting as I go.” She lifted the wooden spoon, blew gently on the sauce, and offered it to him. “Try?”
Archer leaned forward, his chest almost touching hers as he tasted the sauce. The flavor was rich, complex … nutmeg, white pepper, just the right amount of salt. “That’s … actually amazing.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” she laughed, nudging him playfully with her elbow. “I’ve been paying attention during our cooking lessons.”
“But what’s the occasion?” Archer asked, still trying to process this unexpected scene.
Bellie’s smile widened. “Got my grade on my Applied Macroeconomics assignment. A-plus with a note from the professor saying it was one of the most sophisticated ProcSym models he’d seen from a student.” She gave the sauce a final stir. “And that wouldn’t have happened without you.”
“You did all the work,” Archer said, shaking his head. “I just helped with a small technical issue.”
“Small technical issue that I’d been stuck on for days,” she corrected. “Anyway, go wash up and put on something comfortable. Food’s almost ready.”
Archer did as instructed, changing into a sleeveless t-shirt and sweatpants. When he returned, the transformation of the apartment was complete. Bellie had set two places at the coffee table, the food arranged on plates that Archer had never seen before.
“Where did these come from?” he asked, gesturing at the dishware.
“Borrowed from Darla,” Bellie admitted. “I told her I wanted to do something special, and she insisted I needed proper plates. There may have been a lecture about how grown-ups shouldn’t eat on paper towels.”
Archer laughed as he settled onto the couch. “She’s not wrong.”
Bellie sat beside him … closer than usual, he noticed, their legs almost touching. She’d removed the apron she’d been wearing in the kitchen, revealing more of the top that ended just under her breasts, barely containing them. The familiar scent of her shampoo mingled with the aroma of the food.
The meal was delicious, the conversation flowing easily as they ate, despite the distraction of all the skin on display in front of him.
Archer told her about Nexus putting him on the team for their next flagship product, complete with a modest raise. She shared stories about her students, including the happy news from Alex that the Abrams twins had calmed significantly since Archer’s intervention.
“How are you feeling about everything else?” Bellie asked during a pause in the conversation, her tone growing more serious. “Clara and Dylan?”
Archer set down his fork, considering the question. Trey had gently inquired after a particularly splashy magazine article about Dylan and Clara’s impending nuptials had circulated through the office.
For the first time, his name had been mentioned and there had been a tiny headshot of him from his Helios days. For a few days, everyone had fallen silent when he entered a room.
“I’m still … angry,” he admitted. “I don’t think that’ll ever completely go away. But I’m not defined by it anymore.” He looked directly at her. “And that’s largely thanks to you.”
“Me?” Bellie seemed genuinely surprised.
“If you had left me in the alley that night, if you hadn’t insisted I stay …” He shook his head. “I would have been alone somewhere, letting it all eat me alive. Instead, I have something … Something new.” He paused. “Somehow, I’ve ended up with a new life. And you.”
“Me?” she repeated, looking back at him, lips parting.
“Yes,” he said. “You. Just being here for me. I’m just so grateful I have you in my life right now.”
“Yes,” she said as something shifted in her expression, a softening around her eyes. “You have me,” she affirmed quietly.
They finished eating in silence, Archer aware of a shift, of Bellie meeting his eyes with a new intensity that did something to his pulse.
__________________
“Thank you for dinner,” Archer said as she collected their plates. “That was incredible.”
“Oh, we’re not done yet,” Bellie replied. “There’s dessert.” She set the dishes in the sink, took a deep breath, then turned to face him.
She steeled herself against the sharp rush of nerves, of fear. She met his gaze, shaking slightly … heated, wet from being so close to him.
She had to do this. Continuing on, feeling the way she was about him was approaching impossible. She was touching herself every night now.
When Darla had delivered the plates, she had fully told her what she planned to do, and Darla had told her it was well past time.
Any more healing he needed should be done with her … in her.
“But … first, would you dance with me?” She moved before her courage failed her.
The music had shifted to something even slower, more intimate, and she was standing in front of him before he could respond, taking his hands and guiding them to her bared belly, her skin tingling beneath his fingertips.
“I don’t really dance,” he warned her.
“That’s okay,” she said softly. “We can figure it out together.”
They swayed gently to the music, barely moving at first, then finding a slow rhythm that matched the bass line. She wound her arms around his neck, bringing their bodies closer, acutely aware of every point of contact between them, her eyes never leaving his face.
Then she rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, a gentle, questioning touch that gratifyingly made his grip on her tighten.
“That’s for the coding club. And for Ethan and Nathan,” she whispered against his mouth.
Before he could say anything, she kissed him again, deeper this time. “That’s for teaching me how to cook.”
Another kiss, her fingers threading through his hair. “For helping with my assignment.”
His arms tightened around her as she kissed him again. “For making me look forward to coming home every day,” she breathed.
“Bellie,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “What’s going on?”
“I’m thanking you,” she said simply. “For being a good man.” She kept her eyes on his, vulnerable but determined. “And because I want you. And I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.”
She felt the last of his reservations dissolve as her lips met his again. This time, he kissed her back fully and her body pressed against his, warm, soft and perfectly fitted.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Bellie’s eyes were shining. “Dessert,” she said, her voice husky, “is chocolate cake and ice cream from Gianni’s.”
She took a step back, her hands finding the hem of her top. “And me.”
She lifted it over her head. Her nipples on her full D-cups were brown, hard and pointing rudely at him. She pulled on the waist tie of the harem pants and it fell to her feet.
She wasn’t wearing panties.
She helped him take off his t-shirt and pants, yanking down his boxers, going down to her knees. He was already hard but she unhesitatingly took him into her mouth.
There was no way they were going to make it to the bedroom, and the first time Archer McKnight and Bellie Matthews joined was right there on the carpet, both of them sighing out loud as he pushed inside her and she sheathed him, lips meeting hungrily.
“Fuck me!” Bellie gasped, licking up at his lips. “Fuck me, Archer …!”
He did not last long that first time. It had been too long for him, she knew.
But she had been close to the edge too, so she had gone stiff, coming not long after he began thrusting into her body, before he lost control.
He took her again on the sofa, drawing sharp intakes of breath out of her as he steadily stroked into her body, his hands on her heavy jiggling breasts.
Bellie screamed, coming again, her body flexing each time his length pushed all the way into her wet sheath, her vaginal walls spreading around his invading thickness, delirious as she came, releasing another gush of liquid around his member.
When he leaned forward to take her lips, she’d locked her arms tightly around his neck, her legs locking around his waist, immobilizing him as she licked and sucked at his lips, growling with hunger.
Then she’d begun to move her hips, lifting herself and moving her pelvis up to meet him, taking him into her body, her stomach muscles working, teeth gritted, and breathing hard as she rode him.
She’d come again, his mouth covering hers again as she sobbed in ecstasy, realizing – distantly, joyfully – that he still had not come yet.
She found herself with her legs both up in the air and spread apart, back curved almost painfully upward as he hungrily ate and licked at her entrance, lapping up her liquid, spearing his tongue deep into her opening, his lips locking on her erect clitoris. She held his head and suffered through another long series of orgasms, sobbing incoherently.
She was literally dripping wet, liquid dripping out of her as he carried her to her bedroom, her legs obscenely spread over his arms, her breasts pressed against his chest as she showered his face with kisses, cooing in his ear.
She’d spread her legs immediately for him when he laid her on the bed, squealing her delight as his member easily drove into her wet core, arching up to accept him, his thickness taking her breath away as he buried himself inside her.
He rode her roughly, stroking in and out of her repeatedly as she whimpered and clasped herself to him. She gasped and moaned her encouragement, moving with him, hearing him gasp as his self-control finally slipped and he was past the point of no return.
Then he went stiff, roaring as he came, and Bellie couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy, so content as Archer again emptied himself inside her.
__________________
Illumination from the streetlights outside filtered through the half-drawn blinds, casting golden stripes across Bellie’s bedroom. Archer lay awake, his body pleasantly exhausted, watching the gentle rise and fall of Bellie’s breathing as she slept, curled up against him. Her skin was warm against his, one leg thrown possessively over his thigh, her head nestled in the crook of his shoulder.
He smiled, memories of the night before playing through his mind like a highlight reel. They never got to enjoy the chocolate cake and ice cream from Gianni’s.
He remembered it all. The way she’d kissed him, each touch dedicated to giving him pleasure. The feeling of her soft curves yielding beneath his hands, the unexpected firmness of her body as she moved above him. How responsive she’d been to his touch, uninhibited in her pleasure, generous in giving it back to him.
She had pleasured him again with her mouth, and when he had warned her that he was about to come, she had smiled and clamped her lips around him as he did, swallowing with a loud lewd hum of enjoyment.
Then it had been his turn and he had thoroughly enjoyed the wonderful eternity he had spent with his head between her legs, her quiet squeals, the way her breasts shook as he lapped and licked at her, taking her to a body shaking come.
Her whimpering coos of encouragement as he sheathed himself inside her, as he rode her on the couch, the floor before carrying her to her bed was a sound he knew he would never get tired of hearing.
She’d been a revelation … simultaneously playful and intensely passionate. Nothing held back, no walls between them. Just pure, honest need and connection.
Connection. The word triggered something in his mind, a contrast he hadn’t been looking for.
Clara had been like that … before. But in their last months together – longer than he’d initially realized – she’d built a careful distance between them. At first, it had been emotional, subtle enough that he could dismiss it as stress from her job.
Then it became physical, sleeping as far from him as their bed would allow. He’d attributed it to exhaustion, to her new role on the Rixton Group assignment. To her being a light sleeper disturbed by his movements. Then he had found the pregnancy kits and attributed it all to that.
When the truth was that she was craving another man’s touch instead. A man that she had entertained multiple times in the same bed her oblivious husband was sleeping on, confused as his wife created a buffer against him.
‘Buffer.‘
The word struck him with sudden force, an insight so clear and unexpected he nearly sat upright.
Buffer.
That was the solution for the Abrams twins’ platform. Not just controlling the processes or even managing them, but creating intelligent buffers between concurrent operations.
They had taken his traffic analogy and Zebra scaffolding and expanded on it in AX+, creating an elegant system for routing platform elements based on complexity and resource availability.
“The compiler analyzes the branch points,” Ethan had explained at their last meeting.
Archer had worked with them to create the traffic control system for their platform’s internal operations. The only problem was that the operations still had a one-in-a-million chance of getting tangled and instances crashing. It was within tolerance but it clearly bothered them, and him too.
Beside him, Bellie stirred, disturbed by his sudden tension. She made a small sound of protest in her sleep, reaching for him. Archer gently kissed her forehead, running his hand soothingly down her back until she settled again, her breathing resuming its deep, regular rhythm.
Carefully, he extricated himself from her embrace, replacing his body with a pillow that she immediately hugged against herself. He stood for a moment, watching her sleep, struck by how beautiful she looked with her hair tousled, face peaceful in repose, her body partially covered by the rumpled sheet.
A wave of affection washed over him, nearly pulling him back into bed with her. But the idea in his mind was urgent, crystallizing with every passing moment. If he didn’t capture it now, it might slip away.
He quietly retrieved his sweat pants from the floor and slipped them on, then padded silently to the living room where his laptop sat on the dining table. Opening it, he immediately created a new project folder.
“CoBra,” he murmured as he typed, naming the file. “Concurrent Conditional Branching.”
His fingers flew over the keyboard, sketching out the architecture, defining base classes and interface structures. The concept was fairly simple: a dynamic buffer system, providing a staging area before distribution, that would analyze resource requirements for each game instance and optimize data sharing without explicit programmer intervention – again, management instead of control.
The staging area would serve to contain any entanglements, and it could also handle error checking and spawn off threads as necessary to handle exceptions.
The twins’ meticulous conditional logic would still be used, but only when truly necessary … the system would handle the rest automatically.
He swiftly lost himself in the code, mapping out the core architecture and creating a first set of dynamic buffer classes, feeling that unique coders’ satisfaction that came from creating something from nothing but logic and creativity.
Suddenly, he felt a presence and he looked up, mouth going dry at the sight before him …
Dawn’s light was entering the living room, falling on Bellie as she stood in her bedroom’s doorway, gloriously naked, her expression one of pure hunger. Her hair was charmingly disheveled, her lips still slightly swollen from their night together.
“You left me alone,” she said, a pout on her lips.
“I had an idea for the twins’ project,” Archer explained, as she stalked toward him with deliberate slowness, displaying herself for him with every step. “I wanted to get it down before … “
“Whatever it is can wait,” she interrupted, all predator. “I can’t.”
All thoughts of code evaporated from his mind as she reached him, standing between his knees as he sat in the chair, looking down at him with an intensity that sent heat coursing through his body.
“Good morning,” she whispered, leaning down until her lips were inches from his, her breasts, nipples hard and erect, dangling in front of him. She saw his eyes flicker to them and she smiled invitingly.
“Good morning,” he managed, hands already finding her waist.
“Save your work,” she commanded softly. “Now.”
Archer had never closed and saved files so quickly in his life. He barely had time to shut the laptop before Bellie was in his lap, her thighs straddling his, her mouth claiming his in a kiss that left no doubt about her intentions.
The CoBra project would have to wait. Some things were more important than code, even brilliant code. And Bellie Matthews, he was discovering, was definitely one of those things.
__________________
The midday sun warmed Archer’s face as he sat on a bench in Meridian Park, just a block from the Nexus building. He’d started making a habit of eating lunch outdoors whenever the weather permitted, finding that the brief escape from fluorescent lighting and air conditioning helped clear his mind. Especially when Bellie joined him.
His container of leftovers – a spicy chicken stir-fry he and Bellie had made together the night before – was nearly empty. He scrolled through his phone, reviewing some notes he’d made for tonight’s class at Gianni’s. He now had twenty students on a regular basis, necessitating a more structured approach to his lessons.
He couldn’t believe how much his life had transformed in just a few months.
The programming classes at Gianni’s provided a steady supplemental income. The Coding Legion – seeing his charges grow in skill and confidence – provided him with a source of joy and purpose that he could not have imagined.
His transition from intern to mid-level programmer at Nexus had happened with unprecedented speed, with Trey explicitly citing his contributions to the new product development as the reason.
And then there was Bellie.
He no longer slept in the second bedroom. At least, not alone. Hadn’t since that first night together. Bellie would simply not allow it. Their relationship had developed with the same natural ease that had characterized their friendship, only deeper, richer. Last week, as they lay tangled together watching one of her animated shows, she had looked up at him with those remarkable eyes and said, “I love you, you know.”
When he’d hesitated in saying the words back, she’d simply smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll wait for you to figure out that you feel the same way too.”
The apartment that had just been a refuge from his shattered life had become home. A place where he and Bellie worked on their separate projects but bounced ideas off each other. Where they cooked elaborate meals together, danced to anything and everything in the living room, and made love with a frequency and intensity that still surprised him.
“You two are disgustingly perfect together,” Darla had declared during her last visit, watching them move in sync around the kitchen without needing to speak.
Marissa had expressed the same sentiment when Bellie formally introduced him to her sister as her new beau on a video-call.
James had whistled when it was his turn to have her meet his sibling. “Talk about landing on your feet, bro! She’s gorgeous!”
Bellie had blushed prettily, but was soon exchanging barbs with his older brother.
A shadow fell across his lunch container, pulling Archer back to the present. He looked up, squinting against the sun, and felt his stomach tighten as recognition dawned.
Patricia Walker stood over him, impeccably dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, her designer briefcase clutched in one manicured hand. Her expression was professional but tinged with discomfort … not quite the same cold demeanor she’d worn when collecting his signed divorce papers from the bistro table months ago.
“Archer,” she said, her voice softer than he remembered. “I’ve been looking for you.”
He didn’t invite her to sit. “Not that I was hiding.”
“I had to hire someone,” she replied, settling onto the bench beside him anyway. “I tried calling your phone.”
“I got rid of it,” Archer said flatly.
Patricia’s lips thinned in disapproval. “That seems a bit extreme.” Her eyes moved to his wrist. “And the watch Clara gave you? You’re not wearing it.”
“Did you actually expect me to keep wearing it?”
She pressed her lips together. “Maybe not.”
“I exchanged it at a pawn shop for this phone,” he said, holding up the device.
She sighed. “That’s rather childish, don’t you think? It was a beautiful, expensive, watch.”
Archer felt his jaw tighten but said nothing.
“Your belongings from the apartment have been in storage,” Patricia continued when it became clear he wasn’t going to respond. “I’ve been trying to reach you to let you know. If you don’t claim them within the next month, everything will be disposed of.”
“I don’t want anything from there,” Archer said. “And I want to return Dylan’s money. And hers too. I don’t need her charity.”
Patricia sighed, a gesture somewhere between exasperation and genuine concern. “Archer, please. The money is yours as part of the settlement. Taking it doesn’t mean you approve of what happened.”
She paused, a flash of something like guilt crossing her features. “Look, I know this isn’t easy. For what it’s worth, I didn’t enjoy what happened at the bistro.”
“It sure seemed like you did,” Archer said. “You called me an anchor.”
She pressed her lips together again. “I apologize. I wish I hadn’t said that.”
His eyes narrowed. “She said it, didn’t she?”
She met his gaze, not bothering to deny it. “Can you say you weren’t?”
Archer stared at her. “I supported her through law school, stood by her as she applied for jobs, took care of all the finances … but the moment I lost my job, I became an ‘anchor’?”
Patricia looked away, silent.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Patricia continued at last, her tone shifting to something more conversational. “Mid-level programmer at Nexus. And I understand you’ve met someone? A former Rixton employee? A waitress?”
Archer nodded cautiously. “Yes. Bellie. She’s actually a teacher and a Masters student. She’s … she’s great.”
“I’m glad,” Patricia said, sounding sincere. “I actually am.”
“I don’t understand, Patricia,” Archer said, after a moment. “I considered you a friend. I was there for you when Richard broke up with you. How could you do that to me?”
“I considered you a friend too, Archer,” Patricia replied, her expression conflicted. “I still do. But it’s not that simple. Clara is my best friend. We’ve been together since we were twelve years old. And when she made it clear how strongly she felt about Dylan …” She trailed off, then seemed to gather herself. “I had to support her choice. And yes, I do think Dylan is better for her … not just because of his wealth, but because of how they connect.”
“Connect?”
She gave him a pained look, but she answered truthfully. “Intellectually, emotionally … physically. She told me he made her heart beat faster just by looking at her. That she could feel him in a room without seeing him. That he made her body sing.”
“She slept with him in our apartment, didn’t she?” Archer asked, after a moment. “In our bed?”
Patricia at least had the grace to look uncomfortable. “When your best friend tells you she’s found the love of her life, that she can’t resist, how can you not support that? Even if it means someone else gets hurt in the process? Even you have to admit, they look amazing together.”
Archer studied her face, searching for the woman who had cried on his shoulder when her own relationship had ended, who had spent holidays at their dinner table, who had once brought him soup when he was sick with the flu. He could see traces of her there, beneath the professional veneer … uncomfortable but committed to her choice.
“Is that all?” he asked quietly.
Patricia reached into her briefcase and withdrew a document encased in a clear folder. “The divorce decree has been officially granted,” she said, handing it to him. “This is your certified copy.”
Archer accepted it without looking at it, tucking it into his bag.
“I should also remind you,” Patricia added, her tone becoming more formal but not unkind, “that the non-disclosure agreement remains in full effect. Any public statements contradicting the official narrative of your separation, any defamatory comments about Clara or Dylan … “
“I get it …” Archer interrupted.
“I need to make sure you understand,” Patricia insisted, a hint of genuine concern in her voice. “The penalty clause specifies liquidated damages of ten million dollars. That’s more money than I think you’ll see in a lifetime. I’d hate to see you face that kind of legal trouble now that you’re rebuilding your life.”
She stood, smoothing her immaculate suit. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry it ended this way. You and Clara had good years together. But people change, relationships change.” Her smile was small but sincere. “I genuinely wish you well, Archer.”
With a brief nod, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking on the pavement.
Archer watched her go.
Then he looked down at his bag, where the divorce decree lay hidden. ‘Done,’ he thought. Five years of marriage. Legally, officially done.
He pulled out his phone and typed: Picking up dessert on the way home tonight. Any requests?
Her reply came almost immediately: Surprise me. But chocolate wouldn’t be wrong.
The simple heart emoji at the end made him smile. He tucked his phone away and gathered his lunch container, standing to head back to his office.
When he got home with the double chocolate brownies, Bellie was working at her laptop. She immediately stood up and went over to him with an eager smile, throwing her arms around his neck.
“I love you, Bellie Matthews,” he told her at last, after he broke the kiss.
Minutes later, she was crying out her joy, loud and uncaring as he made love to her on their couch. He seized her lips, shutting her up, and she clutched at him, clasping her arms and legs around him as he started to move.
It was hours later before the brownies were finally devoured, after she had finished and submitted her essay, still naked, with just minutes to spare.
He showed her the divorce decree then, and she had responded by taking his hand and leading him to her room, to her bed.
“Mine …” she declared fiercely as she took him back inside her, holding his face, staring into his eyes, before forcefully seizing his lips with a hungry possessive growl.
__________________
Two days later, they visited First National together. Archer had two cashier’s checks prepared – one for ‘$10,000’ payable to Dylan Rixton, and another for ‘$5,000’ payable to Clara Payne.
“Are you sure about this?” Bellie asked as they sealed the envelope.
Archer nodded. “Completely. We don’t need their money anymore. We never did.”
“We?” she echoed, her smile brightening.
“We,” he confirmed, squeezing her hand. “I’ve been saving up from Nexus and the classes at Gianni’s. We’ll be fine.”
Bellie leaned against his shoulder. “I like the sound of ‘we.'”
After the bank, they stopped at the post office to send the cashier’s checks by certified mail to Dylan Rixton’s office. Included in the envelope was a brief note Archer had composed after careful consideration: ‘Returning what was never needed. – A. McKnight.‘
Archer felt another weight lifting from his shoulders as they walked away, another tie to his past life severed cleanly.
“I feel lighter,” he admitted as they stepped into the sunshine.
“Good,” Bellie said, lacing her fingers through his. “That’s exactly how you should feel.”
__________________
The morning was crisp as Archer watched the Coding Legion gather in front of McMasterson Academy at 6:45.
They had elected to meet at the school rather than directly at Kellerson University, so they could go together; as a team.
Bellie stood with him, close, sharing his pride in them, her fingers brushing his arm in touches that could have been accidental but weren’t.
Sharon Albern was there too, smiling proudly at her students in their ‘McMasterson Coding Legion’ t-shirts, black with Tommy Wu’s designed emblem in gold. Archer and Bellie wore the same.
‘Videmus. Codamus. Vincimus.’ circled around the crossed swords, wreath and eagle rendered in 1s and 0s;
‘We See. We Code. We Conquer.’ Sarah had suggested it, in English. It was Ricardo’s idea to translate it to Latin. It got everyone’s vote.
Everyone wore the mandatory fingerless coding gloves for carpal tunnel protection. After seeing Jake and Lisa’s wrist problems, Archer had decided to take a more proactive approach to the team’s ergonomical needs and make it part of their uniform.
The parents came to shake hands, some gave hugs, all thanking him for the retired – but still very powerful development station laptops and screen extenders that Archer had convinced Nexus to donate to the school. He finally got to meet Michael Abrams – Alex and the twins’ father – when he came to drop Alex off.
Sharon Albern addressed the Legion, telling them how proud she was of them, how they represented the very best of McMasterson Academy.
Then Archer moved to stand before them, two folded lengths of cloth in his hands. “Stand forward, Henry Lisser and Elise Jong-Park.”
The two young teens stepped forward, apprehension on their faces, though Elise was able to school her expression before he spoke again.
“Every unit must have a command structure. And so must we.” He focused on Henry and held out the blue cape. “In the Roman Legions, the Primus Pilus was the senior centurion, responsible for operational command and team coordination. That is your role today, Henry Lisser.”
His team mates and their parents whooped and clapped. His mother cried.
Henry’s speechlessness was not new, but the reason for it was as he took the cape, fingers trembling as he fastened it.
“The Optio was second in command, in charge of maintaining standards and quality.” Archer held the red cape toward Elise. “Elise Jong-Park, this is your role today.”
She stood straighter as she took the cape to her team mates’ applause, her eyes bright. Her self-possession failed her and Henry had to help her fasten her cape as her parents took pictures and yelled out their pride in a mix of English and Korean.
“These positions will rotate,” Archer said. “Each of you will have the chance to serve, to lead, to uphold our standards. But for today, these are your commanders.”
He waited for the applause to die down before he swung out his own cape. It was purple. “And as your Imperator …”
The Legion laughed.
“Videmus, Codamus …” Archer said.
“Vincimus!” Henry and Elise said, echoed disjointedly by their team.
Henry was not happy with that. “Videmus!” he yelled.
“Codamus!” They all yelled in unison. “Vincimus!”
The parents and the principal cheered, and Bellie reached out to hold and squeeze Archer’s hand.
__________________
Seventeen seconds.
The McMasterson Coding Legion’s terminal had gone dark as they submitted. Then the message had flashed up in red. Disqualified.
The countdown timer at Kellerson University’s hackathon had reached zero seventeen seconds earlier.
Archer watched as Ruchi and Maria sat frozen at their stations, staring disconsolately at the screen. The entire auditorium seemed to hold its breath.
The morning had started with such promise. The Legion had arrived at the university in their black t-shirts and gloves – Henry and Elise in their capes. Sarah was their aquilifer, proudly carrying a standard her father, a closet Roman history buff, had fashioned for them.
What had begun as Archer’s Roman and military-themed approach to mentoring had evolved into something far more meaningful as they drew everyone’s eyes.
The first day’s challenges had started out simple and rapidly ramped up in difficulty. Teams were tasked with building increasingly complex systems – for student registration, course scheduling, grade calculation. But the real test was how these components would interact.
Archer had watched as his team applied their training flawlessly. Kevin worked confidently with Lisa, not once touching his face in self-consciousness about his missing teeth. Henry, normally so painfully shy, directed the team with quiet authority as Primus. Even Elise had learned to be a true spotter rather than taking over every task.
“Your team’s code is very … organized,” one judge had commented to Archer during a break.
“They’re following their own style guide,” Archer had replied simply.
The judge’s eyebrows had risen as he reviewed their submissions. Archer saw it too; consistent documentation, uniform naming conventions, identical formatting and indentation patterns across all team members’ output – all heavily influenced by the Abrams twins’ style.
It was the product of weeks of drilling, of Archer’s insistence on discipline combined with the kids’ own innovations.
By the end of day one, the McMasterson Coding Legion’s name showed up on the third line of the leaderboard, earning their spot in Sunday’s finals.
“That’s in no particular order,” said the judge who had commented on the team’s code earlier, coming by to stand where Archer was watching his happily chattering charges pack up their laptops. “I’m Aldrin Renner, Senior Lecturer, Software Engineering.” Renner leaned forward. “If they keep this up tomorrow, they’re going to win. Easily.”
The second day had brought the ultimate challenge: build a complete library management system with new requirements added each round. The Legion had moved like a well-oiled machine, rotating pairs seamlessly, their consistent coding style making handoffs smooth.
Then came the final requirement – add a mobile interface component with only an hour remaining.
“We need to test before integrating,” Elise had insisted. “That’s our rule.”
Henry had nodded. They had seven minutes left. Four minutes later, the testing suite caught an edge case that could break the new interface’s connection to the backend.
“Fix it?” Ruchi asked, eyes travelling between Henry and Elise, fingers already moving to the keyboard.
They had less than three minutes.
“Yes.” Henry’s voice was tight but certain even as Elise nodded in agreement. “Videmus.”
“Codamus,” Ruchi responded, already typing, Lisa his spotter as he raced to patch the error. A minute later, he started the testing suite.
“Thirty seconds!” Maria had called out.
“Don’t submit,” Henry had ordered, even as the countdown reached zero. The testing suite was still running.
Then the result flashed: no issues found.
“Submit,” Henry commanded.
Seventeen seconds too late.
“I’m sorry,” Elise whispered, her voice breaking. “I was wrong to insist on testing so late …”
“No,” Henry said firmly, his blue cape swirling as he turned to face the team. “It was my decision.”
Kevin stepped forward, tears in his eyes but his hand nowhere near his mouth. “No. The error was in my code. If I hadn’t …”
“No, Kevin,” Lisa said. “We always test and fix. No one gets it perfect.”
“We test everything,” Henry intoned, cape swirling as he turned to face the group. “That’s our standard. We don’t submit bad code.”
Maria came to stand beside him. “Yes.”
Tommy and Sarah voiced their agreement while Ricardo and Alex nodded vigorously.
Archer felt Bellie’s hand squeeze his as they saw their team embrace their principles rather than fall apart in defeat. He squeezed back.
“Best minions, ever,” he said quietly, for her ears alone.
He only let go of Bellie’s hand when Henry finally came to stand in front of him. She stayed close though.
“I apologize, Imperator, sir,” he said. “I failed the Legion. We submitted too late on my order.”
Archer smiled. “On the contrary, Primus Lisser, I wish I was brave enough to make the same decision. I couldn’t possibly be prouder of you. Of you all.”
Bellie took his hand again.
“Hello.” A voice sounded, making them all turn. Aldrin Renner came to a stop in front of them, tablet in hand. He smiled, gently. “Am I addressing the McMasterson Coding Legion?”
Archer nodded meaningfully when Henry glanced at him, seeing the familiar panic coming to the boy’s eyes. Inwardly, he urged the boy’s newfound confidence to translate to the world outside the Legion. ‘Come on, Henry …‘
“Yes, sir,” Henry said, at last, squaring his shoulders. “You are.”
“I’m Dr. Aldrin Renner. I teach here at Kellerson. I’m a judge and Vice-Chair of the Hackathon this year.” He looked at them all, eyes regretful. “May I ask why you submitted late?”
“We found a critical error in final testing,” Henry explained, his voice clear despite his usual shyness. “We fixed it and ran the test suite again.”
“Even knowing it would disqualify you?”
“The Legion has standards, sir,” Elise said. “We don’t submit bad code.”
“Better to fail right than succeed wrong,” Henry added, and Elise reached out to take his hand in solidarity.
Archer felt Bellie’s hand squeeze his as they watched their charges rally around each other. These kids, who’d started as a disparate group of the socially ignored, awkward or dismissed, struggling with a looming hackathon, had become something extraordinary, a true unit, a team.
“You know you’re not just getting scored on the final product, right?” Renner asked, gently. “We look at your architecture, documentation, code quality, efficiency, resource management … not just if it works.”
Henry took a deep breath, clearly not taking it well, and Archer was about to speak when Henry spoke again. “I take full responsibility,” Henry said, after a moment, voice breaking slightly.
“We take full responsibility,” Elise corrected forcefully.
The entire Legion echoed the sentiment.
Aldrin Renner smiled. “Well, you may be disqualified, but I want you guys to wait. I and the rest of the judges would like to speak to you.” Then he walked away.
The awards ceremony proceeded with the Legion maintaining their dignity, applauding the other teams despite their disappointment. Then the chief judge, Dr. Eleanor Wilson, stepped forward.
“Before we conclude, there’s something the judging panel wants to address,” she said. “Throughout this competition, we’ve been evaluating not just functionality, but professional practices – documentation, code quality, testing protocols.”
She paused, looking directly at the Legion. “One team consistently operated at the highest professional level. Their code was meticulously documented, their version control was impeccable, their team work was flawless, their testing thorough. So thorough, in fact, that they chose to miss the submission deadline rather than compromise their standards.”
The entire audience was buzzing now.
“By now, everyone has seen their code from yesterday’s rounds. The clarity of their documentation, the quality of their code, has set a new standard for what we expect from young developers.”
The chief judge smiled at the Legion. “But what truly sets them apart is that their final submission, despite being seventeen seconds late, is a fully functional library management system that, with only minor modifications, could be deployed in schools today. This isn’t just a competition entry – it’s a professional product.”
She turned to the audience. “Please join me in recognizing the McMasterson Coding Legion.”
The applause started slowly, then built to thunderous levels as teams and parents rose to their feet around the stunned Legion.
Archer saw Kevin’s mother tearfully hugging her son as he smiled widely, not caring about his teeth. Sarah’s father lifted her up in a bear hug while she still clutched their standard. Ruchi’s father whooped, bouncing on his feet as Elise’s parents yelled and clapped.
After the formal presentations came the parade of judges, which included industry professionals, each with offers that made the Legion and their parents’ eyes widen: summer internships at Altitude Games, accessories and software sponsorships from AppCore, scholarship opportunities from Quantum Solutions, and an invitation to the Regional Coding Challenge.
“Always prioritize quality over expedience,” Dr. Wilson told them as she and the judges left, after a final round of pictures. “That’s what you should learn from this.”
A minute later, Archer spotted a familiar figure making his way through the crowd.
“Trey?” Archer said, surprised. “What are you doing here?”
His Nexus supervisor grinned. “Are you kidding? First, I hear about this ‘Coding Legion’ and their ‘incredible’ clean code. Then I hear their mentor is some guy named Archer McKnight. Then I remembered we donated some old laptops to that same team. So I had to come see for myself.” He looked at the kids and their overjoyed parents, still in shock at what had just happened. “Plus, Renner’s an old drinking buddy. He was just raving about your team’s work yesterday.” He patted Archer on the shoulder. “Great work, Archer.”
“Thanks,” Archer said, as Bellie squeezed his hand again. “But it’s really them, I just gave them some pointers and got out of the way …”
“You’re too modest,” Trey snorted as Bellie nodded enthusiastically in agreement. “Can I speak to them?”
Archer called everyone’s attention and introduced Trey.
Trey wasted no time. “What you did today – choosing integrity over winning – that’s exactly the kind of thinking we need in this industry. Nexus Innovations wants to be even more involved in your program. We’re also offering summer internships for a start. Real development work, not just getting coffee. And we’re going to outfit your coding lab.”
“Thank you, sir,” Henry said, clearly overwhelmed. “I … we …” His teammates and their parents joined in as well.
Sharon Albern needed to sit down.
“Coding Legion,” Trey repeated with a smile as he took his leave. “I love it. Archer. You’ve created something special here.”
As they prepared to leave for the celebratory dinner at the Nanjianis’ restaurant, Henry faced his team one more time.
“Videmus!” he called out as tears streamed down his mother’s face, watching her previously desperately shy son come into his own.
“Codamus! Vincimus!” they responded in unison, their voices ringing through the auditorium.
Seventeen seconds late, but somehow right on time.
__________________
Bellie woke up to his quiet breathing on her neck. Her bum was nestled against his crotch as he contained her in his arms, one hand on her rib cage, tantalizingly close to her breasts.
Was he awake? she wondered.
She shifted and felt his hardness press against her, and she immediately felt herself responding, her nipples tingling as they hardened.
Morning wood? Or … not?
Then she felt his lips press on her shoulder, his fingertips moving in little whorls on her skin, and a familiar warmth in her abdomen ignited.
Quietly, she reached for his hand and took it up to her breasts, arching in invitation.
“Hey,” Archer said, getting the message, cupping her flesh, a pointing tip jutting between his fingers.
“Hey,” she answered. “Why are you awake?”
“Why do you think?” he rumbled, squeezing, grinding.
She wiggled back. “You can always wake me for that …”
He kissed her, just under her ear. “I like watching you sleep …”
“I thought I was creepy for doing that,” she confessed, smiling.
He gripped her harder. “Maybe we’re both creeps …”
“Or … maybe we were made for each other …” she offered, writhing back.
She twisted, reaching a hand back, and he lifted his head so their lips could meet.
“Do you know you pout when you sleep?” he asked her.
“I do not!”
“Yes, you do.”
She giggled. “Maybe I’m dreaming of kissing you.”
He squeezed her breast. “Why dream?”
Their lips met again.
“Get inside me,” Bellie gasped when their lips parted, lifting her leg. “Now.”
He obliged, scooting down and setting himself, his member nosing at her already leaking slit and then sliding in with a growl of enjoyment.
She shook as she welcomed him back into her body, his arm hooking under her knee, holding her open as he nestled in deeper.
It shocked her that she could feel so much pleasure at just his presence, just having him there.
She remembered the celebration at the restaurant the night before. There had been lots of singing. She sang with the kids, with the parents, with the principal and the three other teachers who had shown up.
Then she had pulled him up on the stage to sing another karaoke duet with her, another Lily and Leon number. She had kissed him afterward, confirming – if it wasn’t clear enough already – to everyone watching that they were an item.
Her mind replayed the significantly more carnal celebration after, when they got home, barely making it to the bed, his emptying himself inside her again as she looked up at him, loving him, sobbing her delight as her body spasmed.
“I love you,” she had whispered as she went to sleep afterward.
Now, he was back inside her, not moving, just savoring their union.
She felt ‘amazing,’ he had told her many times as he sheathed himself inside her, making her proud that she could give him so much pleasure.
He began to move, his member moving in and out of her body as she gasped quietly, relaxing into the slow gentle rhythm of it.
“Touch yourself,” he told her, after a wonderfully long while of being connected, of unhurriedly moving together as the sun came up.
So she masturbated, bringing herself to an undulating come with him inside her, shuddering and gazing at him.
“I love you,” he said, after kissing her parted lips. “I love every part of you, Bellie Matthews,” he continued. “Your body, your mind, your heart. I love everything about you.”
He exited and moved. On top of her, meeting her tearing eyes as she fully lay on her back and spread herself open for him. He entered her slowly, their eyes locked on each other.
They kissed, for a long time, joined, in no hurry.
“Yesterday … with the kids, was one of the most amazing experiences of my life,” he told her. “And it wouldn’t have happened without you.” He smiled, looking into her eyes. “Thank you.”
“I love you,” she said, feeling overwhelmed. “So much …”
“Will you marry me, Bellie Matthews?” Archer asked, slowly, deliberately.
Bellie had fantasized about her wedding proposal. Somewhere beautiful, with flowers and softly lit. Romantic. Traditional. The man she loved going on one knee with a small velvet box in hand.
But, this, the morning after such a wonderful day, naked, in his bed, him on top of her, inside her – no ring in sight – blew her ‘perfect‘ fantasy out of the water.
“Yes!” she nearly screamed, in utter, absolute joy. “Oh! Yes! Yes! Yes!”
Somehow, offering a broken stranger a room for the night had turned out to be the best decision she had ever made.
