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‘I have to walk around and meet people and sell pitches. That stuff requires a shit load of mental energy.’
I throw up my hands. ‘You know what? Forget it. I’ll do the washing up like always so my boyfriend can play his stupid game—‘
‘Fucking hell, Frankie!’ he shouts. His eyes are wild now. Angry. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?’
‘I’m just tired—‘
‘You’re in a right foul mood and you’re taking it out on me.’
‘I just want you to—‘
‘You always do this.’ His face is flushed. ‘You always have something to say. Nothing I do is ever good enough for you, is it?’
‘What are you even—?’
‘Is it?’ He raises his voice with each interruption, drowning out my words.
And making something rise within me.
‘I’M JUST TIRED!’ I yell. ‘And all this shit with my dad is getting to me, and I’m just hungry, and I’m tired, and it’d be really helpful if you would just do things for me sometimes.’
Archer stares at me. A muscle ticks in his jaw, but his mouth twitches. He seems smugly satisfied that he’s made me explode like that, but his voice is soft, goading, drawling, as he says, ‘Don’t shout at me, love.’
And it’s the gentleness of his words that make my rage flare. That he’s made me reach this point of burning fury and now he’s calm, making me look like I’ve just had a mental outburst.
‘I’m not shouting at you,’ I say with a sigh. I make my way around the kitchen counter and start putting away the clean plates.
‘What are you doing?’ he asks.
‘Jujitsu,’ I reply. ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’
‘I thought you wanted me to do that?’
Sometimes, talking to Archer and banging my head repeatedly against a wall has the same result.
‘It’s fine. Go back to your game.’
He rubs his hands down his face. ‘You’ve walked in and picked a fight with me about not tidying, and now you’re tidying anyway. I literally said I’d do it.’
‘You literally didn’t.’
‘It was implied!’
‘I had toask!’
‘Well, I’m not just going to get up and willingly do the dishes. It’s not like I want to clean up.’
‘Neither do I,’ I mutter. ‘But I still do it.’
‘What was that?’
I raise my voice slightly. ‘Neither do I—‘
‘What?’
‘Neither do—‘
‘What?’
