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By the time I reach Southampton, presents have already been opened. Christmas tunes blare through the house, and the drunken merriment of Archer’s parents is well under way. As Archer leads me into the spacious, stone-walled sitting room, everyone falls silent.
Crystal and Tasha occupy themselves fighting over the latest Brat doll. Georgia’s expression darkens as she notes the bruising on my nose, but I turn to the handsome, impeccably-dressed businessman perched on the rolled arm of the brown leather sofa.
He doesn’t look much like Archer at all, bar those blue eyes and tight lips. Even his dark hair holds no resemblance to Archer’s blond locks, but I see him in the way Ian’s gaze latches onto me, his eyes freezing over like a frosted lake, his smile becoming pinched at the corners. It happens so fast I wonder if I imagine it, because Ian’s setting down his drink and he’s walking over to me and hugging me.
If he notices the way my hands barely touch him, he doesn’t say. This man beat his wife with the hands on my back. His touch is soft, gentle—but then, so is Archer’s.
When I queried Arch on why Georgia wants to be even remotely near Ian when she still holds a restraining order against him, he simply told me his parents get together every Christmas for Tasha and Crystal—to give them a day where their family is whole.
Ian pulls back to look at me, and there it is again, that assessing, intimidating stare. I don’t balk from it, and he smiles, clearly impressed. ‘Frankie,’ he says. ‘Archie has told me so much about you. I’m so glad to finally put a face to the name.’ He walks away before I can reply.
Is this how Archer felt, all those years? Small and belittled?
‘Fancy a drink?’ Ian goes on. He doesn’t wait for me to answer before he pours me a glass of wine.
‘Oh, no, I’m driving.’
He quirks his brow, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t look exactly like Archer. ‘Oh, come on. You can have one.’
I rock back on my heels. Is he being serious? Didn’t his daughter die in a car accident because the driver was drunk? ‘I’m a lightweight.’
He winks at his son. ‘Cheap date?’
Archer is stone-faced.
I’m not in the mood for this. I put on my best customer service smile and say, ‘Sure. Why not?’
I don’t want to sit, so I stand awkwardly at the door, swirling the untouched wine in my glass. Archer hasn’t said a single word to me since I arrived, but I’ve never been one for public displays of affection, anyway. Especially here, in front of this disgusting family of lies and corruption. They make no effort to include me, either—Ian sits on that rolled arm of the couch and smiles down at Georgia, who sits beside Archer and smiles athim.
That smile unnerves me. It’s slight and secretive, but my eyes fixate on that ring-adorned hand as it squeezes my boyfriend’s thigh. I wonder what would happen if I brought a knife down on it so she couldn’t ever touch him like that again.
I watch Archer. He smiles back at his mum, but he’s rigid. Frozen. Too afraid to move.
And I’m not sure where I get the nerve, but I straighten, my blood pounding in my ears, and say to her, ‘Get your hand off him.’ Which is polite, given everything I want to throw at her.
Conversation ceases into stunned silence. Georgia’s face is white, and she snatches back her hand as if someone burnt it, but it’s Ian who rises in a towering mass of fury and rage. ‘Excuse me?’ he says.
I should shut up. Apologise and leave respectfully. But I’m on a roll. Maybe it’s everything building up with my dad’s illness, or maybe it’s because I’m hungry again, but I can’t stop. ‘You’re just as bad. Oh, don’t act shocked, because yeah, I know. I know everything.’ Archer stares at me, lips parted slightly, as if he can hear the sound of my parents screaming at each other in my head. As if he can hear my dad cry himself to sleep and feel my restless, sleepless nights. ‘Andyou.’ I level a glare at Georgia, who shrinks back. ‘You make me sick.’
I watch every word pelt her, and I spin around and walk out. I can’t go the way I came, because then I’d have to cross the living room where they sit. But I find my way through the stone palace, all the way out back to a tealight-lit garden. Arches wreathed with green garlands spread down the path. A fountain of a dolphin trickles water pleasantly into a small pond that glistens beneath the soft lights, and solar lanterns cast a glow all the way to a large boathouse.
I take a breath. Tip the wine over the stone path and set the glass on a nearby pillar. I don’t care that I left my coat inside; the cold steadies me—
The door behind me swings open, and I whirl to find Archer.
My stomach shoots into my throat. I’ve just insulted his parents. He must be furious. And the fact he just stares at me, his chest rising and falling heavily, makes me back up a step.
‘Arch, I’m really—‘
He swallows mysorrywith a kiss. I make a noise of surprise against his mouth, my hands gripping his shoulders to stop myself from falling. His arms wind around my waist and he pulls me against him, flushing our bodies together so tight I can barely breathe.
When he looks down at me, his cheeks are flushed and his eyes are lit with something I’ve never seen before. ‘I love you,’ he says hoarsely.
I stare at him.
He laughs, as if he can’t quite believe it himself. ‘I love you,’ he repeats.
And it’s the wonder and joy in his expression that makes me cry. Icry, and he’s just told me he loves me! His smile falters, and his hands come up to cup my face, because he thinks I’m happy and overwhelmed by his declaration, when really my tears are because I can’t return his words.
