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Archer ran a hand over his head, stifling a sigh. “Mother, this is Brielle and Pembroke.”
Mrs. Ward shifted her purse and switched her coffee cup to her left hand in order to extend her right. “Charmed,” she said as Brielle took it, although she didn’t seem charmed at all. She took one look at Pembroke, still gazing at the floor, and forewent the handshake entirely.
Brielle straightened her back. “Icame with Archer and Pauline, but I just wanted to give my friend a ride back home.”
“Huh.” His mom stirred her coffee with the little green rod sticking out of the small hole. “I just met Pauline at the Starbucks down the road and she didn’t mention it.”
Archer slapped his palm against his thigh. “Because she’s not a gossip, Mother, she’s my nurse and a friend. What are you doing here anyway?” Archer looked positively flabbergasted. “You promised me you wouldn’t come.”
His mom sipped her coffee calmly. “I said I had a charity dinner tonight.”
Archer stuck his hands in the air, as if she were stating the obvious and it proved his point.
She shrugged. “I didn’t say I was going to it instead.”
Archer tousled his hair roughly and Brielle wanted to kick herself for thinking inappropriate thoughts within a few feet of one of his parents. “Does Dad know you’re here?” he asked.
“Of course.” The way she covered her face with her cup, the corners of her mouth twitching, made even Brielle suspicious of her declaration. “And I would cool it down, dear. I’m your ride home.”
“What?” Archer looked as if he’d been punched in the stomach.
“I saw no sense in Pauline waiting around all evening in a Starbucks, so I sent her home. I assured her she’d be paid for the full hours we agreed upon.” She held her coffee cup aloft as her eyes scanned the room. “Don’t they have a garbage around here…?” She wrinkled her nose as a display of rotting zombie statues caught her eye. “Ah.” She stepped around the counter as if she owned the place and dropped the cup into a basket that must have been back there. The cashier stared at her as she did so, slack-jawed. She smiled and pointed at the group behind her. “My son is the star of the evening.”
“Sweet Jesus,” muttered Archer. He ground his teeth and whispered. “I’m so sorry, Brielle.”
Brielle wanted to laugh, but the humiliated look on Archer’s face stopped her.
“Mother,” said Archer, clearly trying to keep an even tone to his voice as Mrs. Ward re-approached, “you can’t just do things like this; we’ve talked about this!”
“Nonsense. Most people would be happy to have a mother half as attentive as me.” She clapped her hands together. “I’ll drive you both home. There’s plenty of room in my van.”
Brielle looked to Archer. “My car’s at his condo.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Ward nodded, clearly considering Brielle’s statement and assigning it more meaning than there was. “And you, dear?” she asked, staring at Pembroke.
Brielle nudged Pembroke’s arm. “I live an hour away…” said Pembroke.
“I can drive her once I get my car,” Brielle offered.
“Nonsense,” said Mrs. Ward. “I love a long car ride.”
“Heaven help us,” said Archer, rotating his chair to get around his mom. “This is sure to be alongcar ride indeed.”
His mom nodded, turning after him. “Maybe we should stop somewhere… more accessible… so you can go to the bathroom before we hit the highway.”
“Mother. Please. For the love of God. Stop.”
Brielle would have found the whole situation somewhat comical if it weren’t so clear Archer was suffering.
Chapter Twelve
If he hadto choose between a slightly long car ride or his anger and embarrassment being the cause of his current nausea, Archer would have to wonder if it weren’t a little of both. He always did get a little carsick. Although perhaps not that strangely, that did seem to abate somewhat when he could rely on Pauline to drive him instead of his mother. Pauline didn’t make a habit of grating on his nerves.
Oh, boy was he regretting not pressing his dad to help him get his license and a car now.
Luckily, or not so luckily, depending on whether or not you considered what shecouldbe talking about, his mother hadn’t shut up about inconsequential aspects of her life, from the way Charlotte (whoever that was, Archer didn’t remember) had made a big deal about Lucy’s (also a name Archer didn’t have a face to put to) dietary requests at a dinner the other day to her usual liquor store no longer carrying her favorite brand of white wine. She spent the first half hour droning on, Pembroke beside her upfront and Brielle in the back beside Archer, his wheelchair strapped in the trunk of the van. Every few minutes, he’d look over to Brielle and find her either staring out the window silently or, on occasion, even raising her eyebrows at something his mother had said. He wanted to apologize so badly.
But then he figured, well, he had told himself that acting on his desires with her would be foolish for so many reasons. Maybe a good, embarrassing few hours with his mother would be enough to slow things down. Surely (he hoped), it wouldn’t be like when he and Brielle had had their awkward exchange the first day they’d met. They could still be friendly even after this spectacle, surely. It would just be enough to warn her away—far away—from getting more involved in his life than she already was.
