“Analise, hold tight, okay? Remi and I will be there in about fifteen minutes. Don’t leave your room.”
“I won’t.” She sniffled. “Will you stay on the phone with me until you get here?”
“Of course.”
I tapped the mute button and told Remi the address to my father’s place in Orchard Park. She reached over and laid her hand on my forearm, the consoling squeeze feeling better than anything had the right to.
“Thank you,” I told her.
She smiled. “What are friends for, right?”
I leaned my head back and groaned. “God, I’m starting to hate that phrase.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Remi
“My dad is a dick.”
Normally, I would have responded to such a proclamation, but I was too busy trying not to gape at the house belonging to the dick in question.
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned this,” I said absently.
We’d driven through a gate at the front of the property, the kind that needed a little code to permit entrance. The entirety of the home was light-colored brick—white columns and black shutters on countless windows. Turreted peaks flanked the stately front entrance, and a small balcony on the second floor—lined with thick, curved white railings—sat between those peaks. Off to the side of the house was a four-stall garage, and anchored in the middle of the circular drive was a fucking fountain.
“Who cleans all those windows?”
He gave me an amused look. “That’s your first thought?”
“No, my first thought was,Wow, this is exactly what I’d imagine a pompous prick’s house would look like.”
Archer laughed again, but there was still tightness around his eyes as I turned the car off and removed my seat belt.
“I’m reminding you that my dad is a dick because he will be awful,” Archer said. “To you. To me. To my sister.” He closed his eyes. “I hate that you’re about to see any of this.” I opened my mouth, but he set a gentle finger over my lips. “If you say that’s what friends are for ...”
I wrapped my fingers around his thick wrist and pulled his hand away from my mouth. “You’ll what?”
His eyes opened, landing unerringly on my lips. “I’ll be forced to kiss you as a distraction, and I promised myself I wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh.”
My weak whisper made him smile. “Yeah. ‘Oh.’”
Archer got out of the car first, and I took a quick moment to fix my ponytail, making sure there were no stray flyaways around my face.
“Are you fixing your hair for him?” he asked incredulously.
“No.” I looped the hair tie one more time, tipping my chin up. “I’m fixing it for the moment. No one wants to look a mess during a dramatic family showdown.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” His eyes skimmed over my face. “No matter why you’re doing it, you look beautiful.”
“Quit stalling,” I teased, even as my stomach and heart did a quick little flip-flop.
Archer sighed, and I had to work to keep up with his much longer strides as he jogged up the stone steps leading to the double-door entrance.
The planters on either side of the porch were glossy black, filled with perfectly trimmed boxwoods cut to mimic a spiral pattern. On the black door was a gleaming knocker, heavy and ornate in a way that I’d never seen,Evansetched into the gold surface.
Archer didn’t use it, nor did he knock to signal our arrival.