Chapter 10
Chapter
Ten
ARCHIE
Iwasn’t late. That was the first thing I told myself as I pushed through the Starbucks door, taking a deep breath of the aromatic fog of espresso.
One thing Frankie and I had in common, coffee wasn’t optional.
Pretty much everything could be dealt with thanks to coffee.
Still, I ordered a quad shot in my mocha and an extra shot for Frankie’s because while she liked the boost, she didn’t always care for how it tasted with that much espresso.
I’d known Frankie for four years. Four years of small things.
The way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear when she was thinking, how she hated cilantro and never pretended she liked something when she didn’t.
How she ate whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and didn’t embrace a diet of rabbit food because it was “expected.” Even the stupidest things could be an inside joke, and she always included me.
Always.
Or at least, she had until this past summer. I’d missed her like I’d miss my arm if it disappeared the same way. The fact she was talking to me at all after the weekend meant I’d have shown up in a damn clown outfit if she needed me that way.
Four years of knowing her and I’d adored her every single day of it. A truth she’d missed because I’d been too subtle, apparently. She missed it because I hadn’t waved a flag and said “this is a date.” We missed out on a lot because I failed to communicate and she failed to receive.
Not happening again.
The low-level near constant ache in my chest had grown interminably worse with every single hour that passed where she didn’t answer my messages.
The only reason I hadn’t gone to her apartment was wanting to give her space if she needed it.
She didn’t always know how to tell us what she needed, so I had to get better at anticipating.
So when I saw her in the driver’s seat of her dark four door Sedan, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel, alarms went off inside of me. Something was wrong. I couldn’t quite read her eyes, but the closer I got to the car, the more I noticed how puffy they were.
Puffy.
Red-rimmed.
She didn’t use cosmetics that frequently, if at all, so she didn’t hide behind layers of concealer. Something hurt her and I wanted to fix it for her. Right now.
As I opened the passenger side door, I did a double take.
“You dyed your hair,” I said, sitting down and passing her coffee right to her. It wasn’t just a little dyed, either. It was beautifully done, violet strands peeking through the blonde, and it was definitely darker beneath.
I had to fight the urge to turn on the flashlight on my phone to get a better look at it. Even more, I fought the urge to thread my fingers through her hair. Coloring hair was always a bad sign…
Or maybe not.
Had she and Frenchy actually broken up? Pocketing the hope that thought generated, I focused on her and what she needed. Right now, what she needed was to talk to me.
Present and accounted for.
“Yeah,” she said, surprise flashing in the deep green of her eyes and she smiled. The curve of her lips was a bit sheepish, but it was still there. It hit me the way it always did when she smiled, my gut tightened and my pulse sped up. She was the only girl who ever got under my skin.
She’d been there from that first day we met, and she carved out a spot that was Frankie shaped and no one else would ever fill it. Even if someone could, I didn’t want anyone the way I wanted her.
“I like it,” I said.
She wrapped her hands around the white cup like it was a gift from the gods. While it was already in the mid-seventies outside, and promised to be in the upper eighties by the end of the day, there was never a bad time for a hot coffee.
Another flicker of surprise. “Really?”
“Did you think I’d hate it?” I couldn’t resist teasing her, just a little. I closed the door so that the a/c could go back to chasing the humidity out of the car.
“No?” She made it sound more like a question, then took a sip of her coffee. Eyes closed, a moment of bliss crossed her face and it settled some of the disquiet inside of me. Whatever else had happened, that was one thing I’d fixed.
I’d made her morning a bit better.
“It’s still really new, I have a feeling I might get suspended when the teachers see it, but that’s why we did the under layer.
” The words came out in a rush. The fact she didn’t sound even a little worried about being suspended set off another alarm bell.
Frankie was dedicated with a capital D. She was also a stickler about the rules and her grades.
Being suspended would have been a fate worse than death before.
What the hell happened that she didn’t sound even a little bothered by the idea now?
“Well, that’s their loss and bad taste,” I commented, keeping it light as I puzzled over what the hell put that look in her eyes.
“You’re only saying that because you brought coffee and want to stay on my good side.”
“A,” I told her dryly. “You don’t have a bad side. And B, I absolutely want to stay on your good side.”
Her laugh was the boon I’d been waiting to hear for three days. It was like a balm to the soul. Goddamn, she just made everything better. The relief spiraling through me folded up my tension like it was paper.
“So,” I said after we both took another drink of the coffee. “You okay?” The question was dumb and precise and everything that I needed to prompt her into telling me why we were here so early. She wasn’t okay. I was kind of hoping she wouldn’t try to tell me she was.
“No,” she said. “I mean—” A pause. A breath. “I’m sort of okay.”
Qualifiers were never a good sign.
“My mom left a note.”
Her mother was a worse sign.
“So did your dad—”
Everything inside of me stilled. Edward left her a note.
Why?
“Edward left you a note?” I wanted to clarify where he left that note.
“Yeah, apparently, he’s having an affair with my mom.” Her eyes narrowed when I didn’t bat an eyelash at that. Maybe I could have pretended surprise, but why? “You knew.” Not a question.
“I did.” I took another swallow of the coffee, then added, “We’ll get back to that in a minute. Why did he leave you a note?” What the fuck had he said to her? Edward was a shitty husband and an even worse father, but for the most part, he kept his distance from my friends.
From my Frankie.
If that was changing… No, that wasn’t going to change. I wouldn’t allow it.
“I think he left it because Maddy’s note was abrasive and it all kind of went sideways on Saturday.” She rubbed a hand against her face and I had to fight my urge to scowl. “I’m saying all of this so badly.”
Giving into the need to touch her, I caught her hand as she lowered it. “You’re not.” She was, but I wasn’t going to point fingers. Whatever this was, it had really upset her and that meant she needed me to listen, not judge. “Take a breath. Tell me how you need to tell me.” But tell me.
I kept the last three words to myself for the moment.
“Mr. Standish—your dad was there on Saturday with my mom.”
Normally, I might have smiled at the fact she clarified that Mr. Standish was my father, I was aware. It would usually be kind of funny, that little aside. Right now, it just ramped up my tension. So, biting my tongue, I waited. I listened.
“I guess they’ve been having an affair for a while and this is not new. In fact, it’s really not new. They had an affair before, or maybe they just had sex before.” She grimaced.
Agreed. I didn’t want to think about Edward fucking anyone. Frankly, I didn’t want to think about either of them fucking anyone. Still, I just nodded.
“The last thing I expected was to see them, and to find out they were hooking up—I am so sorry for your mom, by the way.”
“Muriel will survive,” I assured her. “She’s probably buying out Paris right now.”
Frankie frowned.
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “What did Edward say that upset you?”
“It’s not—what he said. I mean…” She choked a little and the sound was like sandpaper on my temper. “Maddy said it. He just... backed it up and I have no idea what to do with it.”
For a moment, relief spilled through me. “If he promised to marry your mom, it’s not going to happen. He and Muriel have both had their share of affairs, they always come back. Their prenup is pretty ironclad and as long as…”
I hesitated a beat. As long as I was under eighteen, that meant divorce would cost them both. But I turned eighteen in a matter of days.
Fuck. Didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry, babe. Seriously. If he’s promising her stuff, it more than likely won’t happen.
Your mother—she isn’t his first affair.” Or even his second or third.
The unnaturally long line that led to his bed was populated with everyone from actresses to models to secretaries and everything in between.
“They didn’t mention marriage,” she said. “Or maybe they did and I had stopped listening at that point.”
Her hand was so cold in mine and I gave it a gentle squeeze. She was letting me hold it and for a brief moment, her gaze dipped to where my hand was on hers. Thankfully, she didn’t pull away.
“Archie…” She swallowed. “Mom said that Mr. Standish, that your dad is mine too.”
The words registered. The phrasing. The content. All of it. They struck like a body blow. But…
“She’s lying,” I said, not even hesitating. “He has one child. Me. If he fathered any bastards—and no I’m not calling you that, I promise. We’d know.” Grandpa Ted would know. Nana would have known.
No way in hell they’d have kept a grandchild of theirs a secret. They were too damn invested.
Frankie hesitated and it was then that I truly recognized the misery in her eyes. The pain that had been flickering in and out of her gaze. “I don’t think she was lying. He was standing right there and he was really excited. Then she got…well, Mom and I had a fight.”
The lack of further explanation had me narrowing my eyes. “Did she hit you?”
The woman had done it before. We’d seen the evidence of it before.