27. Archie
Archie
P iper dices the other half of the onion while I lean against the counter behind her, encouraging her while not looking at the onion once.
My eyes are glued to her bare shoulders.
The vibrant blue color of her top against her tan skin reminds me of my favorite beach in Aus where the cobalt water laps the dark sand.
The idea of tracing my finger over the thin tan line cupping Piper’s collar bone makes me clutch the counter tighter.
That faint line of ivory contrasted against her sun-bronzed skin is as tempting to touch as her mouth when she sends her tongue across her lips.
“Did I do this right?” She asks over the shoulder I’m staring at, and I’m tempted to tell her no so I can demonstrate again.
I nod instead, take the knife from her and use it to scrape the onions into a bowl while I tip the cutting board. “Want to try the corn next?”
She nods without moving her arm that’s touching mine. I hand her the tongs to take the corn from the grill. Her fingers brush mine as she takes them, and it doesn’t feel like an accident.
I help Piper cut the kernels from the corn, my arms around her again. When she leans into me, I linger in her scent and touch longer than necessary. Every brush of skin, every breath we share, is intentional. We both want this closeness.
Fortunately, this meal requires a lot of chopping, and as smart as Piper is, she is suspiciously slow at learning how to use knives.
Which means I take my time giving her hands-on demonstrations on how to curl her fingers around the knife and how to use the tips of her fingers to hold what she’s cutting.
I’m forced to let her finish on her own when the buzzer I’ve set for the fish dings. I take it from the pan and set it on plates. I’m so anxious to be within touching distance again that I nearly drop one filet on the floor.
“Where did you learn how to do this without following a recipe?” She asks while combining the tomatoes and avocado we’ve chopped with the onion and corn.
“Fish and fresh veggies was a staple of Dex’s diet when he was in competition, so I’ve made some variation of this a million times.” I squeeze lime over the mix. “And I’m not much good at following directions, so I make up my own recipes as I go.”
“I wouldn’t call that not being good at following directions. I’d call it using your creativity.” She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Everything okay?”
Piper nods, but her smile falters. When she tries to replace it with an even more forced smile, she can’t.
“I’m sorry. It’s been kind of a rough day, and I didn’t expect to come home to…
this.” She spreads her arms wide and gestures toward the meal we’ve made together, and tears pool in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she says again, and her voice cracks.
“I’m going to try calling Mom. I’ll be right back. ”
She darts from the kitchen before I can ask why her day was a rough one. I have an uncontrollable urge to fix whatever’s wrong, but since I don’t have any idea what that is, I’m more frustrated than anything.
I plate the food and try to make it look nice but only get it looking half decent.
Dex never cared how his food looked, just how it tasted.
I take off the apron and realize I’m not wearing a shirt.
And while my bare chest is the one thing about me that’s never seemed to bother Piper, I reckon I should put on a shirt for dinner with the woman I can’t stop thinking about and don’t want to keep my hands off.
I wrap the food to keep it warm, then run upstairs to put on real clothes. I don’t know how long she’ll be talking to her mum, but likely not long enough for me to chuck the fantasy of my fingertips discovering the softness of her skin. When I walk back into the kitchen, she’s already there.
“Did you talk to your mum?” I ask.
She shakes her head, and I’m about to ask why her day was rough when she says, “You dressed up. I should have changed into something nicer.”
I smooth my hands over my custom-tailored dress shirt that suddenly feels too tight. “I’m overdressed. You can have a turn at being underdressed for once. Wine with dinner?” Without waiting for an answer, I walk to the wine fridge. I definitely need something to settle my nerves.
While Piper takes a seat at the table, I pour us some wine and serve our plated food. Then I sit across from her, still burning to have her in my arms again.
We make small talk as we eat our dinner, and Piper comments more than once on how delicious the food is. But something’s got her down, and I reckon she might feel better talking through her day instead of just complimenting my cooking skills.
When we’re close to our last few bites, I take a chance she’ll share more than a meal with me. “You wanna talk about why your day was rough?”
“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.” She shakes her head, but I hear the tears at the edge of her throat.
“It’s not fine, Piper. I can tell something’s eatin’ at you. You don’t have to say anything if you’re not ready, but…I’ve done plenty of talking lately. Wouldn’t mind listenin’ to you for a bit.”
That pulls a genuine smile from her.
“The fact you’ve made me dinner and are willing to listen is enough,” she says, her voice cracking a bit. “There’s really nothing more you can do than that, Archie.”
I lift my shoulder. “You didn’t think I could cook either. I might surprise you again.”
Her smile drops, and she takes a sip of wine. “Valente is using the portfolio of designs I sent them for their Fall line.”
I stare at her. “They’re using your designs? That’s amazing! Everyone is going to know your name.” I’m not sure where the rough part of her day comes in, but I’m thrilled for her.
Piper scoffs. “No one is going to know my name because Valente’s name is the only one that will be on the label. Not mine. They didn’t ask my permission to use my designs. They took them.”
Her face twists with a mixture of anger and defeat that makes my whole body go rigid with a need to right a wrong. “They stole them?”
The tears pooling in her eyes answer my question before her nod does.
“They can’t do that.”
“They already have.”
My gaze drops to her wine glass as she explains how designers can alter a piece without it being copied by creating seven differences and how Valente did this to another designer she works with.
She’s left a pink lip print on the wine glass—a mark that will easily wash off.
But her own work shouldn’t be so easily erased and claimed as someone else’s.
“What are you going to do?” I ask when she finishes.
“I don’t know yet. But I have to do something.” While she talks, she rolls her napkin, folds it, then fans it into something like a doll-size dress. “Not just because of what they’ve done to me, but also to my friend Julia. They fired her for not meeting her quota.”
“Can they do that?” In my research for Bombora, I learned a few things about the garment industry. California has fairly strict labor laws when it comes to garment workers.
“I’m pretty sure she’s undocumented, which means they can do whatever they want.” Piper smooths her napkin and starts folding it in a new shape. “I thought Valente was different from other companies in the industry who use undocumented workers.”
I consider this, and while I’m angry on her behalf, I’m also thinking about Bombora, too, and how what Piper’s telling me can inform my own business practices.
“Is Luca Valente aware of what’s going on?” I ask before remembering what Frankie has told me about him “borrowing” from interns.
“He knows. The company culture goes all the way back to Italy, where he’s based.” Piper drinks the last of her wine and passes her glass to me to refill. “Honestly, I’m as angry at myself as I am at them. I should have known everything they told me was too good to be true.”
I slide her glass back to her, and she sits back, cradling it in her hand while she continues.
“The designer who recruited me went on and on about how Valente cares about affordable, sustainable fashion—which is what I’m really interested in.
That’s why I took the internship. I should have known the way they keep their ready-to-wear, eco-friendly line affordable is by underpaying the employees who do all the piece work.
I was na?ve to believe Valente could claim to manufacture everything in America at the price point their ready-to-wear line is at without exploiting workers. ”
At this, my eyes dart up. I think back to her sketchbook and the labels recycled, repurposed, and vintage. Of course, she’s interested in sustainability. It was obvious in every design I saw, I was just too blind to see it.
Piper and I want the same thing. Not only this house, but to create something sustainable. My own chance may be slipping away, but maybe I can help her get hers.
“You can’t let Valente have those designs.” I sit up taller. “They’re too good. We have to find a way to stop him.”
Piper’s brow creases in a sharp V. “How do you know how good they are?”
I take a deep inhale. “Confession: Frankie and I looked at your book—well, she did first, then she showed it to me.”
“You were in my room?” The line marring her forehead grows deeper.
“Frankie peeked in because it’s her old room.
Then she saw what you had on the dress form and couldn’t resist looking closer.
” I rush to smooth away the angry lines around her eyes.
“I told her not to, but she loved it so much that she peeked in your sketchbook. She raved about those so much that I had to look too to see how amazing they are—and they really are—and I’m sorry, Piper. We shouldn’t have done it.”
Tension slowly leaks from Piper’s body. “You think my designs are amazing?”
“Yeah.” I hold back, saying it’s not only her designs I think are amazing. “I had no idea you were so talented. Obviously, the people at Valente see it, too, but they don’t deserve you.”
Piper purses her lips and narrows her eyes. “Where’s the real Archie and what have you done with him?”
I burst into laughter. “Okay, fair question. I don’t blame you for doubting me, but Frankie thought the same thing.”
“She did?”
“You know me, Piper,” I tease. “I didn’t figure out you’re talented on my own. When Frankie raves that something is good, I’ve learned to pay attention.”
She smiles, and her cheeks grow rosy. “You don’t give yourself enough credit, Arch. You never have.”
I feel my own face grow pink with not only her compliment but also by the fact she called me Arch , “You can’t let Valente get away with this. We have to stop them… him.”
Piper stares at me with raised eyebrows. “And you can’t let Malcolm get away with keeping everything you’ve earned. But how do you stop someone who has more money and power than you do?”
“I have no clue. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” I sound more resigned than hopeful, but that doesn’t mean I won’t try to fight Luca Valente.
“Please do.” Piper sounds even more resigned than I do.
That won’t last. Everything I’ve seen of her in the past week has proven she doesn’t back down when she wants something. I admire that about her.
But I sense now isn’t the time to push her. She needs space to think.
“I remember him being different…my dad,” I say, to change the subject. “Before he gained the title of one of the wealthiest men in the world. I reckon I keep hoping he’ll go back to being that person who cared more about his family than he did about his wealth.”
I gaze at Piper’s eyes, the color of the Brisbane River at golden hour—soft brown with flecks of light. The kind of eyes you could fall into without worrying about how you’d get back out.
She nods. “I can see that. Obviously, I didn’t know Malcolm before Forsythe Tech took off, but when he and Mom were first married, we spent a lot of time together—relatively speaking.
Not just the three of us. Malcolm would take me to do stuff on our own.
I’ve never met my biological father, and my stepdad before Malcolm wasn’t really interested in me.
Even though things went badly with Malcolm, I’m still grateful for those years of.
..mattering to him. I guess that’s the best way to say it. ”
I press my eyes closed, taking in what she’s said. Honestly, I’m relieved. I was beginning to believe I was misremembering how Dad used to be. I feel validated now, knowing Piper has memories of him similar to my own.
“Yeah. That’s a good way to look at it—with gratitude. I had a hard time with all the attention he gave you. To be honest, I hated you for it.” I offer a conciliatory smile, hoping she’ll take it.
“ Really ? I never noticed.”
I laugh and shake my head. Her quick comebacks always get me on the back foot. There’s no slacking off for one second with Piper around.
I reckon she’s the kind of person a bloke like me who’s used to getting what he wants should have around, if I don’t want to end up like Dad. Wish I would have figured that out before now, when I’m not sure where I’ll be come Monday.