Chapter 21
21
ARCHER
“ T hanks so much for your help with this, Archer.” Daphne smiles, handing me a water bottle as I step down from the ladder.
“No problem.” With a slight nod of my head, I accept the drink from her hand.
Felix saunters across the boutique and wraps an arm around his fiancée’s waist, jerking her against his body. “And what about me? Am I chopped liver?”
Daphne gives my brother a suggestive look. “I already thanked you.” She lowers her voice. “In the back room earlier.”
A smirk rolls across Felix’s face. He leans by her ear and whispers too loudly. “And when we get home, you’ll thank me again.” He slaps her butt.
Daphne only giggles, her genuine happiness lighting up the room. “You bet I will.”
I make a sound of disgust. Ugh. The two of them are nauseating .
But that’s to be expected. Especially in the weeks leading up to their wedding. I guess their PDA is more annoying than usual tonight because it’s been a long day and I just want to get home.
I’m here at Wisteria & Grace right now. Felix needed help installing some shelves he ordered from the hardware shop as a surprise for Daphne.
My siblings are so damn lucky that I love them. I’m always running around, helping them with their building and repair projects.
Meanwhile, I’ve got a long to-do list of things I need to take care of at my own house. Reupholstering my favorite armchair in the library. Replacing the ceiling fan in the kitchen. Fixing the bathroom door that keeps opening on its own. Yet, I prioritize everyone’s projects over my own.
Felix turns to me with a chuckle. “In all seriousness, thank you, man. You helped me put this gorgeous smile on my lady’s face.” He kisses the tip of her nose.
“Yeah, whatever,” I grumble. “I ended up having to do all the work myself because you don’t know how to get your pretty doctor hands dirty.”
Felix’s phone rings and he glances at the screen. “These are healing hands, my brother. These hands make the world a better place.” He wiggles his fingers in the air as he starts backing toward the door. “Gotta go. My last patients of the day just showed up at the clinic downstairs.” He shoots his girl a wink and he’s jogging down the stairs. “See you in an hour, babe.”
With a snort, I crouch down and start disassembling my drill. While I pack up my tool box, Daphne gets to work sweeping up the mess that I made.
The whole time, I’m thinking about Layla and how I can’t wait to get home to her and Sky. Meanwhile, Daphne chats away about the wedding plans and I half-listen, throwing in the periodic uh-huh and yeah , just to be polite.
I guess there’s some drama with Daphne’s parents, so she wants to keep the whole wedding thing small and simple. The opposite of what her parents want. Apparently, that’s only causing more tension with her family, but she’s trying to stand her ground. Good for her.
She used to be really shy, the kind of girl who’d blush at the drop of a hat. But being with Felix has really brought out something in her. She’s still quiet and sweet, but she seems to feel more comfortable in her own skin. I like that for her. She’s a great girl and my brother is lucky to have her.
But more and more, I’ve been wanting my own great girl.
I want to be able to do for Layla what Felix has done for Daphne. I want to be able to take all her insecurities away and make her feel safe, let her know there’s a place for her in this world. But Layla’s not my girl and this desire of mine is out of place.
This fake-relationship isn’t helping matters at all.
I think back to the way I had her pressed up against the filing cabinet earlier. How far would I have taken things if my parents hadn’t shown up when they did? Would I have touched her? Would I have kissed her? Would I have locked my office door, dropped to my knees and satisfied my aching curiosity to discover what she tastes like?
This is so not like me. I’ve wanted Layla for a long time. Still, I’ve always managed to hold these feelings under control. But these days, more and more, that control is slipping away from me.
As I close up my toolkit, my eyes drift over the racks of colorful dresses displayed here at the shop. I’m immediately brought back to how gorgeous Layla looked in her dress at dinner the other night. I absently reach out to touch the pretty fabric. Thankfully, I stop myself when I notice the grime and dust on my hands.
“Archer—are you even listening to me?” Daphne asks, strolling up beside me, laughter in her voice.
“Sorry, what was that?” I ask, shaking my head and returning my attention to my future sister-in-law.
She follows the direction of my attention and her face lights up when she notices that I’ve been staring at the clothing on the rack.
“Ooh! Let me show you the dress Layla was checking out when she was in here earlier today.” Daphne rifles through the clothes a bit, then she sweeps a hanger off the rack. She holds it up to admire the dress draped from it.
It’s short and pretty and covered in vibrant flowers. It’s so Layla.
My lips move before I can stop them. “She must have looked gorgeous in it.”
It’s not hard to imagine the colorful fabric clinging to Layla’s curves and showing off her legs and highlighting her smooth skin.
Daphne wags her head ruefully. “We couldn’t even get her to try it on. She thought it was ‘too much’.”
“Too much?” I question abruptly. “What the hell do you mean, she thought it was too much?”
“Too much of a splurge. Too much of an extravagance.” Daphne shrugs.
Indignation. That’s what I feel at the moment. Because as far as I’m concerned, nothing is too ‘extravagant’ for Layla. “Where the hell would she get that idea?” I mutter.
Daphne shrinks back slightly. “It’s a girl thing, I think. You wouldn’t understand.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Explain it to me.”
She gives her head a faint wag, cringing a little. “I don’t want to betray Layla’s trust by babbling away. I’ve already said more than I should have.”
I sigh. Then I nod in acceptance, appreciating the fact that Layla has good friends who wouldn’t betray her privacy.
Even still, I can’t just let this dress thing slide. “I’ll take it,” I tell Daphne, reaching for my wallet in my back pocket.
She blinks. “What…?”
“I’ll take the dress.” I stroll toward the cash register.
Layla clearly liked it if she was checking it out. But she wouldn’t let herself have it. For whatever reason, she thought she didn’t deserve it. I can’t just ignore that.
I refuse to have her out here in the world, thinking that anything she wants is ‘too much’ for her.
Daphne comes up to the counter and begins neatly folding up the dress. A smile slowly unfolds across her face, widening by the second.
“What?” I question her.
Her head tilts to the side. “You were single all this time, but I always knew you’d make an amazing boyfriend. I’m so happy for you and Layla.”
It’s my turn to blink. Boyfriend? Oh, right. Boyfriend. I’m Layla’s boyfriend. At least in the eyes of the world. I lean into it.
“I got lucky,” I say with a shrug.
I slap down my bank card on the counter and head to the wash room to clean up my grimy hands. Or more like, to get away from Daphne’s excited energy over what she thinks is going on between Layla and me.
There’s a voice in my head, asking me if this is too weird, too intimate. Layla is my friend. Is it inappropriate for me to be buying her sexy dresses?
I decide not to overthink it. As far as everyone is concerned, Layla is mine. Of course it wouldn’t be inappropriate to buy her nice gifts. It would be inappropriate for me not to .
By the time I’m walking out of the boutique with my dainty pink shopping bag moments later, I’ve already dismissed the thought.
But then I run head-on into a group of older ladies exiting Felix’s medical clinic and I’m second-guessing everything all over again.
“Oh, hello there, Archer,” Miss Rosie says brightly, her attention immediately zeroing in on me.
“Hello, ladies. Lovely evening, isn’t it? Bye now.” I make a desperate attempt to dodge them as I try to stroll past.
“Doing some shopping, I see?” Miss Debra asks, shamelessly eyeballing my shopping bag.
“Just, um, picking up a few things.” I flinch, attempting to hide it with a tight smile.
The women circle around me like sharks ready to attack. “Ooh! Who’s the lucky lady?” Miss Holly cranes her neck, trying to peek inside.
“My, uh, grandma…?” I try. And I fail.
Miss Debra rolls her eyes. “I heard it’s Layla.” She glances over her shoulder to confirm with her friends. “It’s Layla, isn’t it? At least, that’s what I heard.”
Rainbow strolls over from where she just shut down her stall at the farmer’s market across the street. She pretends to give the women a stern look. “Would you all just stop being nosy? Archer’s love life is none of our business.” But a second later, her own excitement is overflowing. “But if it is Layla, that would be so delightful.” She grips my arm. “Please tell me it’s Layla. That poor girl has been through so much. Ansel has put her through absolute hell. And I just know you’ll be good to her and Sky.”
I look around at the expectant eyes beaming up at me like I’m some sort of hero. I feel a reckless twinge of pride in my chest when I publicly claim Layla as mine. “Yes, it’s true. Layla’s my girl.”
The women squeal with delight, drawing attention from the market all the way across the street.
“Oh, thank the lord.” When Miss Debra’s knees go weak, my arms dart out to catch her before she hits the ground.
The ladies chat giddily as they drag me to the farmer’s market. Before I can understand what’s happening, we’re going from booth to booth as all the vendors are shutting down business for the day. They’re suggesting perfumes and chocolates and jewelry that I should gift to my new girlfriend.
As overwhelming as it is, I sort of like it. I like imagining giving Layla the best life has to offer. But at the same time, I don’t want to weird her out. This is all fake, after all. The rest of the town just doesn’t know that.
In the end, I settle on a necklace with a rose quartz pendant, a homemade perfume and a pretty bouquet of flowers. I think it all matches the vibe of her new dress, but what do I know about flowers or about fashion or about any of this?
And more importantly, I don’t know how Layla will feel when I show up at home with a truckload of presents for her.
Yet still, I’m dorkishly excited at the idea that she might smile at me, that she might enjoy all of it.
This is all part of the ruse. It’s all part of the game , I remind myself as I get into my truck, delicately laying Layla’s gifts across the passenger seat. It’s all a part of convincing the town that I’m in a happy relationship now. It’s about convincing the old ladies that there’s no need to play matchmaker or to stress over whether I’ll ever have love in my life.
The relationship with Layla is fake. It’s fake. It’s fake. Of course.
But the way my pulse is pounding as I drive back home? That part is very, very real.