Page 150 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
Which is too bad, because I kind of missed having him around last night. The sky lit up in a spectrum of bright oranges and pinks, with shades of lavender that took my breath away. But sunsets are always more beautiful when they’re shared.
The few moments Archie and I have had where we weren’t fighting have been…nice. Honestly, I’m craving more of them. I just can’t do anything that will jeopardize Mom not getting this house.
We’re quiet for another few minutes before Archie speaks. “At the risk of making you feel better, everyone I’ve told about my hair says I deserve it for being so mean to you when we were kids.”
“Who is everyone?”
“Frankie, Dex, Britta, even though she has no first-hand knowledge.”
I laugh. “I do feel slightly vindicated, but I was totally annoying, Archie. I probably deserved it.”
Archie slows to a stop at a light, then looks at me. “Don’t say that. No one ever deserves unkindness.”
Something surprising cracks inside me. There’s a part of me that thought Archie was right. I was too much. Too loud. Too outspoken. Too…everything.
Hearing other people–even people who weren’t witness to Archie’s behavior—recognize he was the problem opens a well of emotions I didn’t realize I’d buried. Anger, relief, regret over the years I’ve lost trying not to be “annoying.”
“I worry a lot about being annoying. Like, maybe I’m the reason Mom and I both keep getting left behind.” I glance at Archie. He’s looking at me like I’ve just gut punched him.
“I was a dumb kid, but I should have done better.”
“Only one of us was a kid, Archie,” I say softly, looking out the window and bracing myself for him to get defensive.
“You’re right. You were a kid, and I was almost an adult still acting like a kid.” His eyes stay fixed on me.
It’s not an apology, but it’s close. I don’t push him any further.I’m sorryisn’t in Archie Forsythe’s vocabulary, so why do I keep hoping for it? Why do I think I need it? I don’t.
His inability to apologize, though, doesn’t give me an excuse not to. “I’m really sorry about your hair. I never would have done it if I’d known how hard it would be for you to fix it.”
Archie’s lip tugs at the corner, and he tousles his hair. “I’ve always wondered how I’d look as a blond. Mystery solved.”
His mouth pulls into a full grin that snags my heart with the swiftness and surprise of a piece of jewelry getting caught on a loose thread. I quickly look away, but my blood pulses harder. I want to meet his smile with my own. I want an excuse to tracemy thumb along his cheek again. I want to hold tight to the tiny strand of a connection we’ve threaded together.
And that…isnotokay. This is Archie Forsythe I’m thinking about. My enemy. The man standing in the way of financial freedom for Mom and freedom from Malcolm for me.
I can’t let Archie get under my skin with his pranks or the tempting way his mouth perpetually curves into a teasing smile.
We drive ten minutes in the opposite direction from Valente. I don’t breathe easy until Archie parks on a side street a couple blocks from the beach. Even if he leaves me here, I can find my way home.
I follow him up a walkway to an old blue beach cottage with a big sign out front that says Frothed. One glance, followed by the aroma of fresh roasted coffee beans, and I regret nothing, even if I end up late for work.
The place is adorable. Planter boxes overflow with flowers outside the doors. Inside, it is both charming and modern with a distinct surfer vibe.
The best part, though, is the blonde woman behind the counter whose face lights up when she sees Archie and me.
“You must be Piper!” She comes out from behind the counter, carrying a paper bag with the Frothed label on it. When she reaches me, she holds out the bag. “I’m so glad you got here before I have to leave. This is for you, for putting up with Archie.”
“Putting up with me?” Archie is indignant, but Britta elbows him aside to stand closer to me.
“Th-thank you,” I stutter.
I guess I was still expecting some kind of prank, but Britta seems genuinely happy to meet me. I hold the bag to my nose and take a deep breath.
“You must be Britta, and this smells divine.”
“It is divine. I special order the beans from Uganda and roast them myself.” A buzzing comes from her wrist, and she checks her watch before reaching back to untie the apron she has around her waist. “I’m so sorry. I promised to help Dex unpack as soon as my replacement got here but tell Diva what you want. It’s on the house. Try the ebelskiver. It’s new on the menu.” She hands the apron to one of her employees and then hurries toward the front door, still talking. “Oh! And you’ll be there tonight, right? We can talk more then.”
Britta is through the door before I can ask her where I’m supposed to be tonight, so I turn to Archie for an answer.
