14. “You’re a real bundle of joy, aren’t you?
“You’re a real bundle of joy, aren’t you?"
Kat
I can’t believe I’m about to walk through my mum’s front door with Archie by my side. Oh, she’s going to be delighted. Mum has been bugging me about meeting men since Greg and I broke up. Come to think of it, maybe this wasn’t such a brilliant idea.
“Are you okay?” Archie asks.
Granted, we’ve been standing on the porch for a few seconds now, and I haven’t rung the bell yet.
“Yeah. Get ready for a show.” I shake my head dramatically, pushing the bell.
“Oh, I am.” He winks.
In the end, I decide it’s a good thing he’s here. He’ll be a nice distraction.
The door swings open, and my mum appears on the threshold.
She’s draped in way too many shawls for one woman.
A rainbow of gauzy fabrics flutter around her like she’s stepped out of a commercial for healing crystals, and her eyes instantly set on Archie.
While he was driving us here, I texted her that I was bringing someone.
“You are just gorgeous. So nice to meet you, Archie.” She offers her hand, the silver bangles on her wrist jingling like wind chimes. “I’m Gillian—but please call me Gilly. I hate that name.”
“Pleasure’s all mine, Gilly,” Archie says, kissing her hand, and my mum beams.
“Hi, darling,” she adds, giving me air kisses on both cheeks. “Come on in, you two.”
I glance pointedly at Archie. “Told you.”
He just smiles before following the trail of my mother’s patchouli perfume.
We enter her townhouse—her sanctuary, as she calls it—and the scents of incense and burning sage already tickle my nose.
Archie’s eyes are roving over the macramé wall hangings and the fringe rugs that make the hardwood floors look like a kaleidoscope exploded on them. But he doesn’t comment.
We reach the dining room, where a bald man is standing, a smile on his face.
“Kids,” mum says, gliding over to him. “This is Oscar. Oscar, the kids. Katherine and Archie. Archie is Katherine’s—”
“Neighbour,” I interject quickly before my mum sticks him with a label we can’t peel off. “Nice to meet you, Oscar.”
Archie and Oscar shake hands, and I instantly like the guy. He seems down to earth, a quality my mother terribly lacks.
“Something to drink?” she asks, adjusting her long pink shawl that keeps slipping off one shoulder. “I have a full bar.”
“Nothing with alcohol for me,” Archie says. “I’m driving, and the season starts in a few days.”
“Season?” Mum flutters her eyelashes as she turns around. “Are you an athlete?”
“Mum, drinks,” I cut in. “I’ll have an iced tea.”
“That sounds perfect. Me too,” Archie adds, smiling.
“I’ll be right back,” she sings, her bangles jingling in rhythm with her steps as she saunters to the kitchen.
I breathe out a sigh. It’s been less than five minutes, and I’m already exhausted.
While she’s away, we take our seats at the table and start chatting with Oscar. He’s an English teacher at an all-boys school outside London. I knew he was different from her usual boyfriends. Most of them are healers or pet psychics.
Soon, Mum comes back with our drinks and a few bowls of snacks balanced precariously on a mismatched tray. She barely takes her seat before her attention zips straight back to Archie. “So, what kind of sports are you involved in?”
Ugh. Here we go.
“I’m a footballer,” Archie says. “I play for the Regents.”
“No way.” She places a hand on his forearm, her bracelets clinking. “This is wonderful. Katherine, why haven’t you mentioned him before?”
Well, I did mention him, but not in the most glorious of terms. No need to bring that up again now.
“The Regents were my dad’s favourite team,” Oscar chimes in, sipping his drink. “I don’t really follow football. You’ll have to forgive me.”
Archie smiles. “That’s okay. Katherine’s not a fan either, and we still manage to be friends.” He winks at me, and I drink a long sip of iced tea, hoping the cold will travel straight to my cheeks and cool the sudden heat.
“Well,” Mum says, looking fondly between Archie and me, “surely, that’s all about to change. I know I want to watch a match now, just to see you play. What position are you?”
“I’m the goalie. And if you ever want to come to a match, just let me know. I’ll get you tickets to the VIP suites. You’d be treated like royalty while witnessing the best team in England.”
Oh no, what did he just do?
Mum’s eyes are sparkling brighter than ever. Surely because she just heard two of her favourite words: “VIP” and “Royalty.”
“I would love to. We should go together,” she says, turning to me, then to Oscar, who nods along in agreement.
I press my lips in a thin line. “Can’t. I’m working.”
“Katherine,” Mum scolds with a dramatic sigh, as though I just turned down a marriage proposal from an eligible bachelor. “It’s rude to refuse an invitation. You don’t even know when the match is.”
“I know when it is. Saturday. And I also know that I’m working this weekend.”
Archie rakes a hand through his hair, his forearm muscles flexing slightly. “That’s okay. Another time. The invitation still stands for both of you, though.”
Mum relaxes at his words. “Perfect. We’ll exchange numbers afterwards to get it all sorted.”
The conversation shifts as they start peppering Archie with football questions. And honestly, I don’t mind. He handles it like a pro—charismatic, quick-witted, and warm without trying too hard. This is, shockingly, the most relaxed I’ve ever felt while having dinner with my mum.
Until she shrugs off one of her many shawls, and I catch a glimpse of the spot on her neck.
My stomach lurches.
“Mum, you said it was gone!” I put my fork down with a clatter and push away from the table, stepping around it to get a better look.
“It’s nothing,” Mum says hastily, tugging the fabric back into place.
“Let me see,” I demand, not budging.
She sighs theatrically but removes the shawl. As I feared, the spot is still there. Dark brown. Kind of like a birthmark—except it only showed up a few months ago, and I’m certain it’s grown since then.
“Just a beauty spot,” she says, forcing a little laugh. “Katherine tends to overreact. And besides, I had it checked out by my doctor. She gave me a balm to put on it, with calendula, lavender, and turmeric. Doesn’t it smell divine?”
My blood goes from a simmer to a full boil.
“Mum, she’s not a doctor. She’s a herbalist. You need to have it checked out by a professional and have a biopsy done.”
“Biopsy,” she scoffs, casting an apologetic glance at Oscar and Archie, as if I’m embarrassing her in front of her guests.
“Should have never let this one go to medical school,” she says with an exaggerated chuckle.
“Doctors aren’t exactly my thing. All they do is cut you open.
I’m still in my prime. Can’t exactly have my neck butchered up, now can I? ”
“Better than dying of skin cancer,” I snap, slapping my palm on the table harder than I intended. “I should know. I’ve been to medical school.”
“You’re blowing things out of proportion,” she says. Her tone is still light, but her smile is now visibly strained. Though she’s still trying to laugh it off, the air around us is heavy now. Neither Oscar nor Archie is smiling anymore.
“I’m not, Mum. This is serious.”
“You know.” Archie leans forward, elbows on the table, his voice calm but firm. “If Kat thinks it might be smart to get it checked out by a medical doctor, you should listen to her. I’ve seen her in the field in Uganda. Your daughter is the real deal. She saved a lot of people—including me.”
I shoot him a grateful glance.
Mum looks down at her napkin, folding it with unnecessary care. Then, slowly, she lifts her head and gives us her brightest, most dazzling smile.
“All right, all right. I’ll make an appointment tomorrow.”
“With a real doctor,” I clarify, still on edge.
“Why don’t you make my appointment, then?” She turns to look at me, her lips pinched. “At least he’ll be up to your standards.”
I let out a long breath and circle back to my seat. “I’ll call first thing tomorrow.”
“Now,” Mum says, waving her hand as if to shoo away the tension. “Let’s talk about something else. We don’t want to ruin this otherwise fun night. Tell me, Archie. How was your trip to Africa?”
We chat about Uganda, and I start to relax again as Archie chatters about our trip and all the memories we created there. Yeah, bringing him was a great idea after all.
We’re driving back to our building, the fumes of Mum’s incense finally thinning as we ease back into real life.
“Thanks for coming,” I mumble after a while. “Told you it was going to be a show. But I appreciate the assist on the medical issue.”
He steals a furtive glance at me. “No problem. I’m just glad I could help. Hope it’s nothing.”
I pick at the hem of my dress, rolling the fabric between my fingers.
“Me too,” I murmur. “Dermatology is not my specialty, but I don’t like the look of that spot.
I’d feel better if it was removed. I’ve been asking her to take care of it for a while now, but…
well, now that you’ve met her, you understand. ”
“She’s pretty awesome, though,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I love my mum, but yours is something else.”
Don’t I know it.
“Yeah. That’s one way to put it,” I snort, looking out the window.
“I mean it. She’s great,” he says. “Honestly, when I saw how reluctant you were to go, I expected someone totally different. I thought it’d all make sense when I met her, but she’s really not that bad. Sure, the doctor thing isn’t ideal, but at least she agreed to go in the end.”
“Only because you asked her to.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “And it’s not over yet. She hasn’t actually seen the doctor. Just watch—she’ll cancel the appointment because her astrologist says she shouldn’t leave her house that day. The woman is unpredictable.”
“Oh, I see,” he says, tapping his fingers against the wheel. “Everything you’re not.”
“Well, I didn’t really have much of a choice,” I reply, my voice quieter now. “I had to be the responsible one. The organised one. If I hadn’t managed everything—money, rent, bills—we would have ended up on the street.”
“I’m sorry.” His tone loses all trace of teasing. “My mate Finn’s parents were similar. Kind of hippies, never taking things seriously. He and his siblings had to be the grown-ups in the family.”
I glance at Archie. “Does he play football too?”
He winces. “All my friends play football. I’m boring like that.” Then, his eyes widen. “Oh, maybe that’s why the Universe is pushing us together? So I can diversify my social circle.”
I let out a laugh. “Probably. And I don’t know any footballers yet, so…”
He pauses to swipe his security badge at the entrance to our parking garage. The gate lifts, and we pull in.
“So,” he says as he steers into his spot. “Are you really working this Saturday?”
I grimace, averting my gaze. “No.”
He blurts out a chuckle. “You really don’t want to come to the match, huh?”
“Sorry. It’s nothing personal,” I say, angling myself to face him. “It’s just… not my scene, you know?”
“Well, if you had an equivalent, and I could come watch you perform surgery, I totally would. I’d cheer you on, clap, chant—the whole works.”
A vivid image of Archie cheering me on as I perform an emergency thoracotomy comes to mind, and I smile, because I know he totally would.
“Come on,” he says as we climb out of the car. “You’ll have fun.”
I shake my head, pulling my bag over my shoulder as we head toward the lift. “I don’t know…”
The doors slide open, and the familiar scent of green tea air freshener takes over.
“You know,” he continues, leaning against the wall as we step inside. “There’s a strong possibility that you’ll end up at the stadium anyway.”
I arch an eyebrow as the lift starts going up.
“Would you prefer to be there as a VIP attendee, or because a stand collapses, and you’re dispatched to the scene to treat the victims?”
“Whoa,” I breathe out. “You’re a real bundle of joy, aren’t you? Here I thought you were the funny one.”
He chuckles as the bell pings at our floor, and we step out. “Yeah, but I can also be pretty dark. One of the many, many things that make me interesting.”
An unrestrained laugh filters out of me.
“So, you’d literally be saving lives by agreeing to come,” he says as we reach our doors.
And I don’t know if it’s the soft lighting on the landing, the way Archie’s deep green eyes trap me, or the lingering cloud of patchouli perfume impairing my decision making—but I find myself nodding.
“Fine, I’ll come. Only because saving people is my thing.”
His casual smile transforms into a full-fledged grin, and I almost lose my footing. “Can’t wait. I have a feeling you’re going to love it.”
“I’ll keep an open mind,” I say, swallowing hard.
“That’s all I’m asking,” he breathes out. He’s closer now. And for one deranged second, I genuinely think we’re about to kiss—right here on the same landing where we’ve argued a dozen times before.
I clear my throat and step back. “Well, see you. Thanks again for coming tonight.”
He nods, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I had fun. Good night, Kat.”
I unlock my door while breaking multiple speed records, hurry inside, and lean against the wood as if I just escaped mortal danger.
At least I’m safe now. Who knows what he’d have had me agreeing to next?
Clearly, Archie Wilcott has some mysterious powers when it comes to convincing Lennox women, and I don’t trust myself around him.