Chapter Twenty-Two
▲
Archie
Mr. and Mrs. Prim are a polite, upper-middle-class couple who clearly love their son, Fred, and their daughter, Sarelia.
They are also the worst case of helicopter parenting I have ever seen.
“Fred, stick with us, please. You’re in a place you’ve never been before. You mustn’t wander off.”
“Wander off where?” Sarelia’s tall, lanky brother asks, throwing his arms out. “The only thing around here is woods, and I know I’m a teenager, but I’m not that stupid.”
Mrs. Prim frowns, short brown hair bouncing as she ushers him forward anyway. “Sarelia’s new boyfriend is going to think we’re rude if you don’t hurry up,” she says.
He rolls his eyes, glancing toward Sarelia and I. We stand not even twelve feet away greeting his father.
“I’m pretty sure that’s her husband,” Fred says, eyeing our clasped hands.
“No ring, though, so maybe you’re right.
” Louder, he addresses Sarelia, “I thought you said that guy was rich. Where’s your massive rock?
” He plants hazel eyes on me, not waiting for an answer.
“Dude, when you’re rich, you’re supposed to get your girl a rock the size of the moon.
Everybody knows that. That way she can pawn it in the divorce and use the money to take care of her little brother for the rest of his life. ”
I decide immediately that Sarelia’s brother amuses me, and I like him. He’s rude, but in that teenager way that means he’s going to grow into an adult with a sense of humor, not in the teenager way that rings of true entitlement and selfishness.
He further wins my favor when he approaches and, unlike his father before him, goes straight for Sarelia. He wraps her in a embrace that takes her hand from me, but I don’t mind, because when she hugs him back it’s just as hard.
“You must be Archie.” Mrs. Prim drags my attention from her children. “We’ve heard so much about you.”
“For years,” Mr. Prim puts in, scrubbing a pale hand over scruffy hair. “And yet, also so little. We didn’t know the two of you actually knew each other. We thought Sarelia’s crush was just a little schoolgirl thing.”
Sarelia, the twenty-eight-and-a-quarter-years-old schoolgirl. Right.
I force a carefree smile to my face and shrug. “I’ve loved her for some time.”
“Let me see him,” Fred says, passing Sarelia to their mother to greet.
He stands before me, eyes roving from my feet to the top of my head, which he can see quite clearly thanks to his at least four inches on me. “You’re kind of short.”
“Fred!” Mrs. Prim scolds as she lets go of my wife, aghast.
I thread my fingers back through Sarelia’s. “The better to lull you into a false sense of security before I strap you down in my secret basement lab and torture you,” I say, grinning my most feral grin at the boy.
His face goes blank, then bursts, cackles flying out of him as he bends nearly in half.
Sarelia’s hand flexes in mine, and she snorts.
Even her parents crack rueful smiles.
“Come in,” I say, sweeping an arm toward the pink door of my house. “I’ll make us some tea.”
Once I get them inside and seated around my kitchen table, I make us a pot of tea to share. I set out milk and sugar crystals so that the Prims can adjust their tea as they like while I prepare Sarelia’s cup.
“How was the drive?” I ask. “You didn’t have any trouble at the gate, did you? I told Sal we were expecting you.”
“Is that the bug-eyed dude?” Fred asks, dumping four sugar crystals into his tea. “That guy was hilarious. He asked if we were here to interview for the open assassin position. Said I’m the perfect candidate, since I’m young.”
Sarelia’s lips press together, and her face goes red.
“A good assassin is an educated assassin,” I reply. “Which means finishing school. You’re a bit young to have done that yet, yes?”
“He’s sixteen,” Mrs. Prim says. “And top of his class, though you wouldn’t know it by looking at him.” She rolls brown eyes. “You were a teenage boy once, Archie. Maybe you can tell me why they think it’s cooler to have an air of stupidity instead of showcasing their intelligence?”
Was her husband not also once a teenage boy? Does he not hold the answers she seeks?
My eyes meet Sarelia’s embarrassed gaze, and I wink. “It’s been a few years since I was a teenage boy,” I confess. “And I didn’t much excel at school, so my insight is quite useless, I fear.”
Fred’s face sours—whether from the conversation or his tea is anyone’s guess.
“You had to have been smart enough,” Mr. Prim notes, waving a hand at my home. “You’ve got a nice house in a private, gated community, and you’re a celebrity, are you not?”
“Celebrity might be pushing it,” I laugh. “I’m a popular man in a niche corner of the internet.”
“That ‘niche corner’ is massive, though,” Sarelia says, tugging me to sit in the chair beside her. “And he signs autographs at the events he’s part of. That makes him a celebrity.”
I hum. “Then I suppose you’re a celebrity, too,” I say, then gasp. “This could’ve been a PR marriage!”
Her nose scrunches. “I’m not a celebrity. I sign books. That’s not at all the same as giving out autographs.”
“People spend money on your signature, do they not?” I ask.
Her lower lip juts out, and she doesn’t answer.
I remind myself that her parents are in the room, her brother is in the room, and I like denying myself the instant gratification I so dearly desire. Then, I pointedly do not kiss her lower lip.
“Lia’s not a celebrity,” Fred scoffs, adding a fifth sugar crystal to his tea. “Nobody recognizes her at the grocery store.”
My lips twitch. “No one recognizes me at the grocery store, either.” I sigh, flopping my peasant head toward my peasant wife. “No PR marriage for us, then, my love. I’m sorry. I know how much you were looking forward to it.”
Her sigh echoes mine as she sets the back of her hand against her forehead. “Alack,” she cries. “My dreams, crushed.”
“Goodness,” Mr. Prim mutters. “There’s two of them.”
“Three,” Fred corrects. “Mom’s also dramatic and ridiculous.”
“Fred!” she admonishes.
“Oh, sorry, did we not just take twelve casket catalogues to the recycling center?”
She sniffs. “Your sister was on the lam,” she says. “What else was I supposed to think?”
Fred’s eyebrows slam together, bewilderment sliding over his hazel eyes. “That she ran off to elope with her apparently-not-a-celebrity crush in the woods on the other side of the state,” he answers. “Duh.”
Mrs. Prim sets her tea cup down with a mild clang. “Well. Excuse me for thinking she’d have a better head on her shoulders.”
“Andi,” Mr. Prim mutters, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Sarelia asks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Mrs. Prim inhales roughly, then exhales. “Nothing, Lia. We can discuss it later.”
Sarelia frowns.
I reach beneath the table to rest my hand on her thigh, and her fingers cover mine.
“Fine,” she agrees, tightening her grip on me. “We can discuss it later.”
“Fun,” Fred mutters beneath the glare of his parents.
“For now, let’s just enjoy our first night together, okay?” Mr. Prim suggests, then immediately changes the subject, ignoring the discontented expressions on the faces of his wife and daughter. “Did I hear a cat meowing as we came in?”
Sarelia tenses, then sighs, letting her head fall to my shoulder as she winds her fingers through mine. “Yes,” she answers. “We’ve adopted a cat.”
Her mother’s mouth purses.
“Her name is Pesky, and she’s hideous,” Sarelia continues. “We love her.”
“How hideous?” Fred asks.
“The ugliest cat you’ve ever seen,” she tells him. “She looks like she had a ride through a wood chipper.”
“Sick,” he replies.
“You know cats are a lot of responsibility, right?” Mrs. Prim asks, apparently unable to keep it in.
Her husband exhales. Loudly. “It’s getting late,” he says. “Maybe we should pick our visit back up in the morning.”
I do not disagree, and neither does anyone else.
We settle Fred in the guest room that I stole furniture from when I redecorated the meeting room, then walk Sarelia’s parents over to Heidi and Basil’s house, the better to create some distance so nobody kills anybody during this visit.
Heidi greets us at the door, and Sarelia and I bid goodnight before leaving her parents in my sister’s capable hands.
On the walk back home, Sarelia deflates.
“That was a disaster!” she exclaims, rubbing the heel of her hand against her eye. “They clearly have some–some sort of plan to have another one of their ‘chats’ with me. It’s going to be the retirement thing all over again, except this time I can’t run away. They’re cornering me!”
“Us,” I correct. “They’re cornering us. Because you are not alone this time, love. I’m right here with you.”
“This is awful. I should’ve just… I don’t know.
I should’ve just agreed to go and visit them so they could see that I am whole and healthy and of sound mind, then come back when they’d calmed down.
I can’t believe I brought them here to spread their…
” She waves her hand backward, toward them.
“Whatever to you. I’m so sorry, Archie.” She stops, turning to me. “I’m so, so sorry.”
What a silly woman my darling wife is.
I put my hands on either side of her mouth as it spills apologies still, then pull her toward me until my lips silence hers.
“You’ve nothing to apologize for,” I tell her when we part.
“Your parents are your parents. I don’t care about them outside of the fact that you care about them.
My only concern right now is your well-being.
If having them here is an issue for you, then I’ll ask them to leave.
But, my love, my princess, you will not be going with them if they do.
I’ll not have you away from me for the sake of appeasing people whose opinions are not only wrong, but also stupid on top of it.
They think you and your brother incapable of anything beyond nonsense.
” My nose scrunches. “It’s ridiculous. They claim your brother to be smart, yet at the same time put him down for idiocy.
They think you don’t know the basics of caring for another living creature when I know that you spent hours preparing to have a pet in our home.
” I rest my forehead against hers, then tap her nose to mine.
“We know they love you, but goodness, they’re so blinded by their own worry that they cannot even see the magnificent woman they’ve raised, or her brother, who may well turn out magnificent himself.
” I tut. “And not a single bit of that is your fault. You owe no apologies for the actions of wayward relatives. Not to me, and not to anyone else either.”
She sniffs. “You’re too good for me.”
I shrug. “And if I am, then let me wallow in the mud. I’m quite content basking in the way it makes me feel.”
Thick lashes flutter. “In books, the man normally responds with something along the lines of, ‘Oh, no, I could never be too good for you. I am a worm beneath your feet. You are everything.’”
I hum. “Yes, well, their confidence issues have nothing to do with me.”
My heart stutters when she laughs, then takes off like a rocket when she presses that laughter against my lips, allowing me the pleasure of swallowing it whole.
“We’ll get through this visit together,” I murmur when I’ve had my fill of her mirth. “You and I. Husband and wife. Archie and Sarelia.”
“I appreciate you,” she replies. “And I love you.”
“I love you, my darling.” I kiss her nose. “Now, let’s get you home. We have a long day with your parents tomorrow, and Pesky is likely missing us.”
She presses a sweet, light kiss on my cheek, then spins, marching toward home. “She’s probably worried,” she mutters. “My poor baby.”
“Our poor baby,” I remark.
She pauses, turns, grabs my hand, then resumes her march. “Let’s get home to our poor baby.”
We do, only to find Pesky sound asleep at the foot of Sarelia’s bed, not a worry in the world.
And when we join her, I find that it’s quite simple to let go of our worries and fall into slumber as well, if only for the night.