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Why isn’t she taking this seriously? I whirl on her, and she steps back. ‘He’s going to leave if I don’t go home!’ I scream.
Her eyes fly wide, but her grip slackens. ‘Frankie, you don’t believe that shit—?’
I yank free. ‘You’ve already done enough.’
She recoils as if I struck her, but I don’t give a shit. I race for the exit and grab my coat and I rush home so fast one of my heels snap. I let out a frustrated screech as I tear them off, and then I’m running, running, running, my feet slapping the road painfully—
I punch in the code with shaky fingers and take the stairs two at a time, and I practically throw myself at my door as I shove in the key—
The door clicks shut behind me, and thetinkof my keys as I let them fall into the ceramic bowl on the counter is loud.
I freeze in the grip of Archer’s stare.
He sprawls on the sofa, facing me, his ankle hooked on his knee and one arm stretched along the back of the couch. He swirls his tumbler as he contemplates me, and his gaze doesn’t break from mine as he knocks back the rest of his whiskey.
‘You didn’t answer my calls,’ he says, and his calm is worse than his fury.
I didn’t think this far ahead, but I can’t lie. Not when he watches me so closely, so carefully. ‘Sorry, I had no signal. I would’ve answered otherwise.’
He nods slowly. ‘Go anywhere fancy?’ He gives a pointed, lingering glance at my dress, my legs.
‘I was just with Amelia.’ I set my purse on the kitchen counter and drop my heels.
A muscle twitches in his jaw, the only sign of his distaste, but he says, ‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘I was at XOYO.’ I let the words hang between us and watch them settle.
His eyes darken and his smile pinches at the corners. ‘Dressed like that?’
I close my eyes. ‘Archer, please—‘
‘Do you honestly think I believe you went out dressed like a little tart for your own benefit?’ He stands and walks slowly towards me. He sets his tumbler down and comes up behind me, gently smoothing my hair over my shoulder. He presses his lips to my neck as his other hand goes down, down— ‘Do you really think I’m that stupid? You waited until I left for work so you could sneak out and get back before I got home.’ His hand slides up my thigh beneath my dress, and I flinch. ‘You’re soaking. Who is that for, love?’
‘No one—‘
Suddenly my head snaps back and his lips graze my ear. I cry out and claw at his wrist, but his fingers in my hair only tighten.
‘Don’t lie to me—‘
‘I’m not! I’m not lying, I swear. Please believe me.’
He says nothing for a long moment, and my neck starts to ache, and my legs start to give, but then he releases me with a shove. ‘Get out.’
‘What?’
He looks at me like I’m stupid. ‘Get the fuck out. I don’t even want to look at you right now. You’re disgusting.’
I sob and reach for his arm, but his hand shoots up. His fingers dig into my chin, and for a wild moment he looks like he wants to break me. He brings his face close to mine, his eyes wide and bright, and shoves me towards the door.
He opens it. ‘If you want to stay out all night, then go—‘
‘I don’t! Please—‘ He tries to force me out, but I wrap my arms around him and cling on.
Tomorrow I’ll have bruises from where he grabs my arm, but I’m not thinking about that right now. I need him to see I choose him—over Emmy, over going out. I’d rather be here with him.
He sighs, realising I’m not going to let go, and closes the door. ‘I’m going to bed,’ he says.
I let him step away from me, but I trail him into the bedroom and climb into bed beside him. I need to hold onto him; I curl my body around his, anchoring him to me.
