Chapter 37 #2
I raise an eyebrow. “Seriously?”
“Being my special sidekick will always involve costumes,” he says solemnly.
No matter how hard I try to rearrange my face into a scowl, there’s no way I’m wiping the smile off my face right now.
I step forward and take the costume from his hands.
It takes every fiber of will inside me not to close the distance between us and kiss him.
But instead, I take the unicorn onesie and stagger toward my sister’s bathroom.
My hands are shaking as I unfold the costume.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Yep, apparently I still can’t wipe the large smile off my face.
Archie’s here. What does that mean? How the hell did he track me down? The fact that he’s flown all the way over the Atlantic to find me has to mean something, right?
Did Vaughn say something to him? Has he worked out the whole story—QuantumTech, the recording, the deal? Does he know that I walked away from him, not because I don’t love him, but because I love him too much to be the reason he never got his brother back?
And if he knows all of that, why is he here?
I want to grab him and talk to him and get answers. I want to kiss him even more.
But it appears I’ve got an appearance as Sparkle McHornface to get through first.
I look at myself in the mirror after I’ve finished dressing. Pink unicorn onesie. Glitter horn. Rainbow tail.
Last time I wore this, I was in London with Archie beside me, and I hadn’t realized yet how in love with him I was.
I know now.
I walk back out.
Caitlin’s hands fly to her mouth, and she starts to laugh.
“Sparkle McHornface, everyone!” Archie announces.
The kids’ cheers are deafening. Kimmy looks like she might actually ascend.
“Uncle Leo, you’re a unicorn!” Kimmy says.
“I know I am,” I say neutrally.
“Sparkle McHornface has been on a very long journey,” Archie tells the children, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “He went away for a while. Can anyone guess why?”
“Why?” the children chorus.
“Because he made a mistake. He thought Captain Giggles didn’t need him anymore.
He thought Captain Giggles would be better off with a different sidekick.
” Archie pauses. “But the thing about Captain Giggles is that he’s very particular about his sidekicks.
He doesn’t want just anyone. He wants someone who—” His voice catches so briefly that only I notice.
“Someone who makes terrible balloon animals but tries really hard anyway.”
The children laugh. I am not laughing. I am standing in a unicorn onesie, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.
“So Sparkle McHornface came back,” Archie says. “And Captain Giggles is very happy about that.”
He looks at me when he says it. The performer mask slips for half a second, and underneath it is just a man who flew four thousand miles to stand in a living room in Detroit and tell me something he couldn’t say over the phone.
I swallow. Hard.
“Now,” Archie says, switching back to full Captain Giggles energy, “who wants to see some magic?”
And then we’re performing together. The way we’ve done a dozen times before in living rooms and event venues all over London. His chaos, my steadiness. He throws, I catch. He sets up the joke, I’m the punchline.
It shouldn’t work as well as it does. It shouldn’t feel like breathing.
But it does.
We do a magic show. We play Sparkle Says, and the kids lose their minds. Kimmy tells everyone that Captain Giggles came all the way from London just for her party, and Archie doesn’t correct her.
When he makes me do the Chicken Dance, I do the Chicken Dance. When he makes me say I am a pretty, pretty unicorn and I believe in magic, I say it. Louder than I’ve ever said it. Loud enough that Caitlin completely loses it and falls apart in hysterics.
I don’t care.
Because Archie’s here.
He’s here.
And that means I’m going to be the best damn Sparkle McHornface these kids have ever seen.
Two hours later, the party has wound down. The living room is a war zone of balloon debris, cake crumbs, and glitter that Caitlin will be finding in her carpet for the next six months.
Trust me, I know.
After the last parent collects their child, Caitlin takes one look at me and Archie and herds Kimmy and Thomas out of the room.
“We’ll be in the kitchen,” she says. “Take as long as you need.”
Then she closes the door behind her.
The living room looks like a party supply store detonated. There are streamers draped over every surface, a half-deflated balloon lodged under the sofa, and a smear of cake frosting on the wall at roughly child-height.
Archie’s standing by the window. He’s still in his cape, the top hat discarded somewhere, his hair sticking up in four different directions. There’s face paint on his cheek—a remnant from where a child insisted on painting a star on Captain Giggles.
He looks ridiculous. He’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.
“Vaughn told me everything,” Archie says.
“I figured.” I pull the unicorn hood down off my head. It feels like the right thing to do. This conversation shouldn’t happen from inside a costume. “I’m sorry I never told you the truth about why I spilled the syrup on you in the first place.”
“I actually figured it out the day after my accident,” he says.
The sound that comes out of me is not dignified. It’s somewhere between a laugh and a choke.
Of course Archie figured it out. He’s a genius, after all.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I demand.
“Because it was far more fun to see how far that guilt would stretch.”
I look down at my onesie. “Fairly far, as it turns out.”
He grins. “Yep.”
He picks up a stray balloon from the floor and bats it gently between his hands. Then his grin fades. “Vaughn also told me you recorded him confessing. You had proof that he stole your idea. Eight years of wanting justice, and you deleted it.”
“Yes.”
“You told him to be a good brother.”
“Yes.”
“You told Vaughn that there were lots of men who could love me, but I only had one brother.” Archie’s now holding the balloon still against his chest.
I swallow. It takes two attempts.
“I did say that.”
“But you forgot one important variable in the whole equation.”
He takes a step toward me. Just one. The streamer-littered, frosting-smeared, glitter-infested distance between us contracts by about two feet.
“What’s that?”
“There’s only one man I’ll ever love the way I love you.”
The living room is quiet. From the kitchen, Kimmy and Thomas are squabbling over a slice of pizza. Someone’s left a party hat on the arm of the sofa. A streamer detaches from the ceiling and floats down between us like confetti at the world’s most unlikely wedding.
“That’s an important consideration,” I manage.
“Yes. Because you sacrificing your heart also means sacrificing my heart. And I’m sure it doesn’t take a genius to work out that isn’t a good scenario for anyone.”
“I agree, it’s not an ideal scenario,” I choke out.
“And I really need a sidekick. The kids have demanded it.” He glances at my onesie—the pink fleece, the rainbow mane, the tail with the pompom. His mouth twitches. “Also, you look really good in that.”
Despite everything, something twitches at the corner of my mouth. “Oh, so this is a business proposition.”
“It’s a multifaceted proposal. I’m diversifying.”
“Archie—”
I close the remaining distance between us. My hand comes up to his face and my thumb traces his cheekbone.
His breath catches. The cape rustles before he goes very still.
“I love you,” he says simply. There’s no joke, deflection, or theatrical delivery.
Just three words said plainly in a living room in Detroit that smells of birthday cake and party food.
“I love you, and you love me, and the fact that you’re standing here in a unicorn onesie is just one of about nine thousand reasons why. ”
I look at him.
He looks back at me.
And I think of what led us here. Vaughn’s betrayal.
At the time, I thought it was the worst thing that could happen.
But it had led me to quit QuantumTech and join Andrew’s startup, which had been a shortcut to professional success that I never could’ve achieved if I’d stayed at QuantumTech.
And my lingering anger at Vaughn had led me to pour maple syrup on his brother, which gave me a chance to fall in love with this incredible man who makes me into the best version of myself.
Nothing happens in isolation.
It appears that sometimes bad things become the doorway to the best things in the world.
“I love you too,” I say.
He smiles. “I figured that much, but it’s still good to hear it.”
“I’ll never stop telling you,” I say.
He reaches up to touch the side of my face, running a shaky finger down my cheek. “Do you believe in magic, Sparkle McHornface?”
“I do now,” I say as I lean forward to kiss him.