Chapter 13
thirteen
Archer
I press my palm to my stinging cheek. What the hell just happened? What caused the confusion in Bailey’s expression that morphed into anger. I watch the distant photographer stomp in front of Brody’s horse. I don’t think that idiot caused Bailey to go ballistic. Not toward me at least.
I shake my head to clear the remnants of the encounter. Sometimes when I have to confront someone as Mars, it takes a few minutes for me to find myself again. Is that what confused her? I’ve never shown the angry side of my brother to her. Maybe I frightened her.
I cross to the winery in record time. Did she go up to her apartment? No, the workroom. That’s where she feels the most comfortable. The door is closed tightly. Probably locked so I don’t even try the knob. I rap lightly on the wood. “Bailey?”
No response but I hear movement. “Bailey, talk to me, beautiful.”
“Don’t call me that. Go away. Archer, Marcus, whoever you are. Leave me alone.”
“It just took me a few moments to stop pretending to be my brother.”
“Which brother is pretending? Go away.”
“Bailey?”
A loud bang vibrates the door next to my ear. “Who are you?”
“I’m Archer,” I say softly. “Archer.”
“I need time. Go away.”
Another loud thud. Fearing in her anger she’ll destroy her work I back from the door. “I’m going. Bailey, I love you.”
“Easy words to say.”
Easy to say perhaps, but to feel? To share? That’s the hard part. Music overlays my thoughts. I don’t have time for this. Even though it appears I’m fighting with my muse, the music never stops. Another song for my love. I softly kiss my palm and press it to the door. “Bailey…”
By the time I reach the keyboard, a song begging forgiveness has fully formed. The compulsion to compose hovers at the edges of my consciousness but intrudes no further. The process drains me yet doesn’t overtake my functioning or recognition of the world outside the composition. I almost wish it would. Without Bailey I will be nothing but an empty shell.
I try calling. Every call goes to voicemail and after twenty calls I stop leaving desperate messages. After a rash of texts suddenly none of them are being delivered so I assume she’s blocked me. I wait at her workroom door, her apartment door. Leave desperate notes reflecting the desperate man that I am.
Finally after two days I drag my sorry ass to the main house to arrange for transportation from the ranch to the nearest airport. If Mars needs more time, his team will have to deal with the paparazzi. I’m done. I won’t pretend to be Marcus ever again. That deception brought me to the only woman I will ever love. And ripped her from my arms.
“Hey, Marcus,” Alice greets me. She bends to stare up at my face. “Uh oh. Looks like heart trouble. Come in. Talk to me.”
I shake my head. No one else needs to know the depths of my pain.
“Come on, Archer. You and Bailey haven’t necessarily been that discrete. What happened?”
She pushes on my shoulders until I sit at her kitchen table. She pours a glass of lemonade and sets it in front of me. “You don’t have to talk to me, just know if you need an ear, I’m available. You need to know Bailey has been happier with you here than I’ve ever seen her. You’ve been relaxed and at ease.”
“You’re very observant.”
Her eyebrows arch. “Not much goes on here that I don’t know about. So, what are you going to do?”
“She won’t talk to me.”
“This have to do with that paparazzi creep Brody chased off?”
“That’s what started it.”
“Mom, Mom, come here. You gotta see this.” The young voices from the other room make Alice roll her eyes.
“I’d better check on them or we’ll never get any peace.” She rises carefully and makes her way to the family room. After a moment, she peeks her head through the doorway and motions for me to join her. “You need to see this, too.”
Now what’s going on that I’m not going to have the energy to care about? Alice’s two kids are planted close to their large television their eye glued to an entertainment news channel. They don’t even notice I’m there. Alice perches on the couch arm and points toward the screen.
I can’t believe what I see. A live broadcast shows a smiling Marcus Kane making a statement from the steps of a building I recognize as the rehabilitation center he’s used before. He lifts one hand and the screaming crowd quiets. My brother can’t do anything without his fans.
“I have spent the past few weeks here reevaluating my life, my career, my future. Being sober is new for me, a lifestyle I pray my fans will support and if moved, join me in. I know this will be a difficult road and there may be times I stumble. But with your support, your love, I’ll keep to this chosen path. My music and your experience at my concerts will be even better.
“I want to thank one person specifically for standing by me. I realized during my recovery I need to acknowledge the contributions my brother has made to my life and my career. And to your enjoyment of my music.”
I collapse onto the couch. I don’t believe what I’m hearing. I glance at Alice in confusion, but she’s on the phone. What the hell is Marcus up to?
On the screen, Marcus dips his head. It almost looks like humility. That’s a new move for him. Then he looks straight into the camera. “Thank you, Archer.” Turning back to the crowd he continues, “One day soon, I hope to bring him from behind the scenes and introduce you to my brother.”
The rest of his speech is a garbled hum. Then a pair of reporters take over. A photograph appears on the screen. “Is this Marcus Kane’s brother? We received this photograph moments ago. The picture is dated and time stamped as being taken early this morning, sent from somewhere in the Midwest.” The camera pans in on a photograph of me on the guest house porch. “The resemblance is remarkable. This must be the brother Mars called Archer.”
The other journalist chuckles and fans herself with her hand. “Marcus never said his brother was a twin. Imagine. Two of them. Whew.”
All I can do is thank god Bailey isn’t in the photo.
Alice pokes my shoulder. “If I were you, I’d head over to the winery. Bailey’s watching the broadcast.”
I leap to my feet and grab her shoulders to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything. Except maybe suggest she turn on the television. Go.”
Hope bursts through me as I jog toward the winery. The door opens as I near the building and I rush inside, hesitating only a moment before pulling her into my arms. “Bailey.”
“Archer, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to believe. I thought maybe I’d been played again. I know you told me the truth. Forgive me?”
“If you’ll forgive me. I love you, my beautiful Bailey.”
“I love you, too. I nearly told you that morning before the photographer. I have loved you since the first time I saw you.”
My laughter makes her try to take a step back and I hold her flush against my body. “Love at first sight, huh?”
“Yeah. Love at first sight. Archer Kane, I will love you until forever ends.”
With my lips brushing hers, I repeat the promise. “Until forever ends.”