Chapter 14
14
LAYLA
O nce we’re inside the house, we’re swept up in a sea of hugs and greetings. There’s so much love and laughter filling the Brighton dining room that I quickly forget all about my discomfort.
In fact, everyone seems to be in high spirits, reunited after the older Brighton generations were out of the country for so long.
Nolan, Inez and Stella got here just in time, rambling that they almost couldn’t make it because of Inez’s busy acting schedule. It’s hard for her to plan ahead whenever she’s in the middle of filming a new episode of her TV show.
Nicky is cuddled up to Ronan, after he’s been on the road playing hockey for a few days. They’ve been attached at the hip since the moment they walked in.
Karli and Ziggy are chatting with Daphne about her wedding plans. Meanwhile Darius and Felix throw bread rolls at Mason’s head and earn dirty looks from their grandma.
Yup. The Brighton siblings—or the Brighton Six, as I’ve always called them in my head—are up to their usual shenanigans.It’s the perfect distraction from my messy life.
Everyone is warm and inviting with Sky and me, and they don’t seem concerned in the slightest about my chaotic personal affairs. They’re too busy goofing around and giving each other crap. No judgment here; just love. And the family dinner is going way better than I expected.
Most importantly, no one questions why I showed up here with Archer or why he’s holding my son’s diaper bag in a death grip. Instead, Dr. Brighton just brings an old highchair down from the attic and places it in the spot right between Archer and me. Like it belongs there.
“Come on, sweetie. Have a bite of your carrots. Please. Just one,” I beg quietly when Sky refuses to eat his vegetables.
“No!” Sky declares, folding his arms and turning his squishy little face away from me.
I sigh. The word ‘no’ is definitely one of his favorite responses this week.
I scoop a bit of creamed broccoli onto the spoon and stretch it out to him, trying to negotiate again. But my strong-willed toddler is not budging.
The back and forth goes on for a while before Archer intervenes, taking the lead on the vegetable negotiations and putting his military intelligence training to use.
He babbles back and forth with my little boy. No one seems to understand what’s being said between the two of them—besides Archer and Sky —of course. It’s entertaining to watch.
Sky is reaching for Archer’s beard as usual. “Big musdache,” my child says.
Amusement takes over Archer’s face. “Wanna know how my mustache got so big?” he asks.
Sky whimpers, his head bobbing up and down as he stares at Archer, transfixed.
“When I was your age, I ate allllll my vegetables.” Archer drapes a string bean over his top lip before dramatically gobbling it down.
Sky erupts into laughter, clearly delighted. He slaps his little palms on the highchair tray. “Again!”
Naturally, Archer does it again, giving himself a string bean mustache before devouring the veggie in the most theatrical way possible. Soon, the entire table is giving Archer funny looks for it.But the usually-stoic man doesn’t seem to notice or to care that he has an audience.
Before long, it becomes a game. Sky starts imitating Archer, making veggie mustaches and eating his vegetables all on his own.
Judging from his family’s reactions, it seems that Archer isn’t usually a fan of toddlers. But I’d never guess that from the way he’s always playing with Sky. And building blocks with him. And wrestling with him on the living room floor.
Finally, Grandpa Brighton speaks what seems to be on everyone else's mind.“Since when are you a guy who goofs around with babies?” the elderly man questions gruffly and I’m immediately reminded where Archer gets his scowly attitude from.
Archer shrugs. “Since a cool one showed up?”He goes right back to focusing on my kid.
Grandpa Brighton nods, amusement sparkling in his eyes. Everyone else just laughs.
The conversation moves on but my jaw is still hanging open. “Sky is eating… beans ,” I mutter, stunned.
“You’re welcome.” Archer tosses me a wink.
I give my head a shake. “Really, Archer. Thank you. This is incredible.”
He momentarily goes serious and his soft, earnest gaze holds mine. “It’s nothing, Belle. I’ve got you. Both of you.”
When he says that, my heart turns to gravy inside my chest. Because, seriously, Archer Brighton—why do you have to be so wonderful?!
As dinner wears on, I notice a small smudge of creamy sauce clinging to the corner of Archer’s mustache. Reaching around the back of Sky’s seat, I tap Archer on the shoulder.
“You’ve got a little something…” I whisper, discreetly making a wiping motion at the edge of my lip.
He picks up his napkin and tries to clean up the mess. But he totally misses the mark. He leans around Sky’s chair to whisper back. “Did I get it?”
I give my head a slight shake. “No.”
He tries wiping his mouth again. “How about now?”
I wag my head some more. “It’s right there.” I point to the corner of his mouth.
On his next attempt, he misses again and I giggle. Too loudly.
I cast a glance around to see if anyone’s watching. We may be at a table full of people, but when Archer looks at me, sometimes I forget that there’s anyone else in the room.
“Now you’re laughing at me?” he hisses, his brown eyes glimmering with mock offense.
“How do you keep missing?” I titter more quietly now.
“Help me,” he demands, stretching his napkin my way.
I hesitate, glancing around again.
“So you’re just gonna let me sit here looking stupid?” he whispers, lifting a judgmental eyebrow at me. “You’re gonna let my mean brothers make fun of me?”
With an eyeroll, I grab the napkin from his hand and swipe the cloth along the corner of his mouth. At the same time, my eyes slowly trace the outline of his sexy lips and I wonder what they’d feel like trailing across my collarbone.
My eyes guiltily flick up to Archer’s and the heat in his stare makes my insides jump. Because there’s no way he’s not reading my thoughts right this minute. The pink hue coloring his ears gives his own impure imaginings away.
“Thank you,” he mutters. Then his tongue peeks out and discreetly wets his lips in a way that makes my clit throb.
I really, really need to get laid.
Someone loudly clears their throat. I glance to the other end of the table and find Karli grinning like the Joker, her head tilted to the side as she observes us.
Ugh.
I quickly shrink into my seat, trying to make myself small as my cheeks burn up.
Thankfully, dinner is over soon. We all clean up together, everyone getting their hands dirty. The guys take care of the dishes, while us women wipe and sweep and get the kitchen and dining room back in order. The whole time, I’m careful to keep an eye on Sky who’s running around with Stella in the hallway.
Then Mrs. Brighton goes around the kitchen, making sure everyone gets a bunch of leftovers. I eagerly accept the plastic container she offers me because tonight’s barbecue-glazed meatloaf was incredible.
As the woman continues to portion out the leftover food, I feel a large hand briefly graze the small of my back, instantly setting loose a wave of butterflies in my tummy.
“Ready to go?” Archer asks me in a low voice, his eyes discreetly darting around the room.
I respond with a nod—the way my tongue’s tied up at his touch makes it impossible to speak. He cautiously guides me and Sky out of the room.
Soon, we’re in the entryway near the door, getting ready to leave. After I’ve bundled Sky back into his snow suit, Archer’s mom breezes in and scoops him out of my arms. As I reach into the closet for my jacket, I watch as she and Grandma Brighton take turns hugging my little boy and saying goodbye.
I love watching Sky receive all this love. It fills my heart to the brim. I don’t have a large family and my parents don’t seem to have the grandparent gene, so most of the time, it’s just Sky and me.
I’m so distracted watching my son get loved on by the Brighton women that I don’t even realize that my hair is caught in the back of my jacket. Before I can yank the strands out, I feel large hands, gently freeing my hair from my collar.
I glance behind me and my eyes meet Archer’s. My knees almost give out beneath me. All I see is the little, private grin he offers me before respectfully backtracking out of my personal bubble.
Help. Somebody, send help.
Heat rises to my cheeks and I glance around the small entryway for witnesses. Inez is hunched over a few feet away, helping Stella get zipped up. Ziggy is seated on a bench by the door and Darius is crouched in front of her, tugging her boots onto her swollen feet. Mason and Felix are chatting about work as they button up their coats. Basically, everyone is in their own world, not paying us any attention.
I turn my focus back to Archer. I don’t know if I’m reading this all wrong, but it’s almost like he’s…flirting with me. But that would be ridiculous, right?
Either way, I need to know for sure.
My nagging curiosity gives me the guts to cross over the cordial line in the sand between us.I take a not-so-respectful step into his personal space, rising onto my tiptoes to whisper by his ear.“Why have you been giving me that funny look all night?” I know I shouldn’t ask the question but I can’t help myself.
He’s silent for a moment and I'm almost certain he won’t answer me. But then he bends close and whispers back. “Because you’re beautiful, Layla...”
If I thought my stomach was fluttering before, it’s a full on hurricane in there now.
I glance down at the dress I’m wearing. It’s a satiny maroon thing I picked up when it was on sale at Daphne’s vintage shop a few months back. It clings to my waist and hips, ending at my knees. I’ve paired it with some sheer black nylons and the dangly earrings Archer gifted me the Christmas before last.
“This dress is really nothing special,” I argue. Sure, it’s a nice change from my usual jeans and sweaters, but it won’t get me on any catwalks anytime soon.
Archer’s eyes squint at me in what appears to be confusion. “It’s not the dress, Layla. It’s you.”
I swallow, really not sure how to respond.
“You’re beautiful , woman.” He says it with force this time. I can practically feel the conviction beaming off of him.
My eyeballs start prickling. So I let my gaze fall to the floor.
Archer’s strong fingers lift my chin, forcing me to meet his stare. “You know that, don’t you?”
His kind words feel so foreign to me. Let’s just say Razor was never generous with the compliments. No one in my life has ever been. My mom always seems disappointed in me somehow. My dad is mostly indifferent. Thank god for my girlfriends or who knows how low down my self-concept would be after all I’ve been through.
“I…um, well…” I clear my throat, still struggling for words. In the end, I settle for, “Thank you.”
Grandma Brighton interrupts the moment. Thankfully. My attention follows the sound of her voice as she approaches us. “So Archer, what about your wedding date situation?” she asks, grabbing everyone’s attention.
All the zipping and buttoning and bundling up in the room slows to a halt. The Brighton siblings gather round, preparing to watch their oldest brother get raked over the barbecue. Archer looks around and the joy drains off his face.
Now I’m starting to understand why he was trying to rush me out the door a half hour ago. I’d almost thought we might just make it out of this house without him getting hounded about his dating life. Looks like I was wrong.
“You can’t go alone,” his mother is saying.
“Yes, Archer,” his grandmother agrees. “How would that look?”
He just scowls. “I really don’t care how it looks.”
“Weddings are a time of love,” his mother goes on. “You really need to bring a nice girl.”
“Oh, I know just the girl. I will call up an old friend of mine. Mary. You remember Mary, right? She’s the one who used to play piano at church until her arthritis got bad. Poor soul,” Archer’s grandma goes on and on, while the man’s eyes go dead. “Anyway, her granddaughter just got divorced. I’ll see if she’s free to be your date. I’m sure you’d like her. She’s awfully pretty, and she—”
“I already have a wedding date,” Archer growls, surprising all of us with his interruption.
His mom’s eyes narrow with suspicion as she slips Sky into my arms. “Who?” she asks, her undivided attention fixed on her son.
Archer scratches the back of his neck. He’s panicking now. He’s sweating. I can tell. “Sheesh. Can I keep anything to myself?”He zips up the front of his tan-colored bomber jacket.
But his mom won’t stop prying. “Of course, Archer. But it’s just that—”
“It’s me,” I blurt out. “I’m Archer’s wedding date.”
Silence falls around the room again. This time, everyone slowly turns my way.
My body freezes. I think I’m in shock. What did I just say? And why did I just say it?!
Crap. Time to run.
I hitch Sky up higher on my hip—he’s getting way too heavy to be carried around everywhere—and then I loop my arm through Archer’s. I paste on a big grin. “Good night, everyone! Thanks for dinner!”
And then I drag him out the front door and down the steps.