6. Archer

Chapter 6

Archer

It's a good turnout, considering how last minute the reception was arranged. The room is pretty. White chiffon curtains around the walls hide the fact that it's a conference room for businesses during the week. Beside the DJ's mixing desk, giant letters illuminated by fairy lights spell ‘love'. Large round tables with crisp white tablecloths, salmon table runners, and confetti shapes sprinkled on them have been placed around the room, leaving the dance floor empty. The chairs are covered in white with huge bows matching the table runners.

Mum's dress is gorgeous, if a little over the top. After hours of trudging around bridal shops, getting turned away from most of them, she chose a floral, boho-style lace dress. She even managed to convince a florist to create a bouquet for her, which she's holding while she and Barry welcome their guests.

I sit at a table, arranging the confetti shapes into kaleidoscopic patterns while the DJ plays a mix of Elvis songs and love songs from the noughties. Mum's music taste doesn't blend well with Barry's.

I tug at my collar, which is strangling me. I'm not a suit person. I prefer jeans and a T-shirt, or a tracksuit. Oh well, it's only for one night, and I'll be able to rid myself of the suffocating shirt and tie the moment I retire to my room.

I don't know anyone, so it's going to be a long night.

Wait a sec. I sit upright. Who are Mum and Barry talking to? Is that—? Why is Jacob here? His face is pale and pasty, and he keeps messing with his hair. He looks around the room, a strained smile on his lips. His gaze lands on me, and any remaining colour drains from his face. Is he feeling guilty for jilting me so unceremoniously? Good. So he should. But what the fuck is he doing here? He must know Mum. They're roughly the same age. Maybe they're friends from school. Is that why he freaked out?

Why does he have to look so good in a suit? Memories of me loosening his tie and kissing him flash back, and my pulse quickens. Would I lose my self-respect if I forgave him and invited him to my room after the party? I did promise to suck him off, and fuck, I'd love to get my mouth around his cock. I grab the closest menu card and fan myself.

Mum waves me over.

I shake my head.

She waves more insistently. Jacob looks like he wants to crawl into a hole or under a blanket. I'd share a blanket fort with him. Once I've forgiven him, which, let's face it, isn't going to take long. I'm definitely thinking with my dick rather than my brain.

I put the menu on the table, mess up the pattern I'd made with the confetti, and wander over to Mum, Barry, and Jacob.

"Sweetheart. Let me introduce you to Barry's son, Jacob."

What. The. Fuck? He could have given me a heads-up before he freaked out on me.

"Jacob, this is my son, Archer."

"Hi." Jacob sticks out his hand.

I stare at it.

"Sweetheart?" Mum touches my shoulder.

I blink and shake myself. "Hi." I accept Jacob's hand and squeeze a little too tightly.

He winces but does his best to hide it behind a fake smile.

"I'd love it if you two could spend some time together this evening getting to know each other," Mum says.

Barry nods in agreement.

"It would be wonderful if you two could be friends." Mum holds my hand and Jacob's. "You're brothers now. We're one big happy family. Oh, Barry, maybe we should go on one of those holidays for blended families, like in the film we saw on the plane."

Barry scratches his jaw. "Are those holidays real?"

"Of course they are. I'll look it up tomorrow."

I wrest my hand from her eager grip. "I need some air. Excuse me."

She catches hold of my hand again. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes. I'll be back in a few." I kiss her cheek and then walk briskly away from them all without so much as a glance at Jacob.

I leave the reception room and find a back door, which leads to a courtyard with a nice view of the countryside. I perch on a wall. It's a pleasant evening. The sun will set soon. Will the sunset be pretty here?

"Archer."

I put my hand over my heart. I refuse to look at Jacob and how hot he is in his suit. His footsteps move closer.

"We need to talk."

"Did you know?"

"Not until I saw the photo of you and Molly."

I grip the edge of the wall. "Why didn't you tell me? Why did you run out, making me think I'd done something wrong?"

"I'm sorry. I freaked out."

"No shit."

"They can't know. No one can know."

"What? That we slept together?"

"Keep your voice down." He hisses.

I bite my tongue and glare at the ground.

"Please don't say anything."

"We're not related. It's not that big a deal."

Jacob sits on the wall beside me, but not close, his body angled towards me. "Please?"

I slump my shoulders and sigh. "Don't worry. I won't."

I've never broadcasted my sex life to Mum, and I'm not about to start now. Having ‘the talk' about safe sex was mortifying enough—for both of us. It wasn't so bad the first time when I was a pre-teen, and she did the whole ‘birds and bees' speech. She bought a picture book about how men and women like to have ‘special cuddles'. After I came out, we had ‘the talk' all over again. Only I was older, and she didn't use a cute book to soften the conversation. Mum, trying to be helpful, had found websites with how-to guides for anal sex virgins. I'd have preferred to find—and read—them by myself. It put me off even thinking about anal sex for almost a year, which I guess is the best form of protection there is.

"I'm sorry," he says.

"No. I'm sorry. I liked you."

"I liked you too. But you know we can't ever go there again. Right?"

Do I? "Yeah. Sure."

"I should go back inside."

"I'll come soon. Pun not intended."

He walks towards the door.

"Jacob."

He stops.

"I'm sorry Mum had an affair with your dad. I know your parents got divorced because of it."

Jacob stiffens and clenches his jaw. "It wasn't your fault. Besides, Dad was the one who cheated."

"Was their marriage what you wanted to drown your sorrows over that night?"

The timing would make sense, considering she told me the next day that she'd got married. Should I be hurt they told Jacob before me? Nah.

"Yes. I should have stuck to my original plan."

"Don't say that. I had fun. I thought you did too."

Jacob makes a strangled sound. "Was Molly serious?"

"What about?"

"The four of us going on a holiday together?"

"Probably. Don't worry. I'll talk her out of it. Going on holiday together would be crazy awkward." About as awkward as this encounter.

"It would. I should go."

"Sure. Bye."

He walks inside, leaving me alone.

"Would you like a sword?"

Before I can answer, the balloon man blows up a pair of obscenely long balloons and twists them together into a sword. The high-pitched squeak caused by two balloons rubbing together hurts my ears and makes me think about other, similarly shaped things sliding together.

"Your sword." He thrusts it into my hand and moves away.

The sword is even more phallic because he chose a bright pink balloon for the blade.

"Are you having a good time?" Mum pulls up a chair and sits beside me.

The party is in full swing. The buffet has been served, the cake has been cut—where did Mum get a wedding cake from at such short notice?—and Mum and Barry have danced the first dance. Throughout the evening, the number of guests has thinned down, but plenty of people remain. Some prop up the bar, others dance, but most sit around the tables chatting and laughing.

"Yes." I lower the sword, hiding it beneath the tablecloth.

"I was hoping you and Jacob would spend some time together."

Jacob has been avoiding me. Right now, he's as far away from me as possible while still in the same room. An elderly woman is talking to him. His face is a picture of boredom.

"We don't know each other."

"He doesn't approve."

"Of—?"

"Me marrying his dad. He refused to do a best man's speech."

The last I heard, he was going to do one, but we're past any logical point for speeches to take place. At least three-quarters of the people are most likely to be rat-arsed.

"I think he wants his parents to get back together. I suppose I'm the evil witch that drove them apart."

What does she want me to say? If Jacob feels that way, he'd be justified. Mum had an affair with a married man. In Jacob's shoes, I don't think I'd welcome my new stepmum with open arms either. It's got to be doubly weird because they're so close in age. Is that why our age gap was such a big deal to him? It's the least of our problems. I'd rather not think of Mum being his stepmum or Barry being my stepdad, but it's not something we can ignore.

It also doesn't stop us from being attracted to each other. Nothing could stop my pulse from racing or my blood from heating at seeing him in a suit. I love the juxtaposition of the neat, crisp shirt and his messy, wavy hair. I want to run my fingers through it like I did when we cuddled after sex, but I won't get the opportunity to. Jacob has made that crystal clear.

Never mind him being Mr See You Later. He's Mr Don't Touch now.

"Archer."

"Sorry. What?"

"Do you think I'm wicked?"

I suck in a breath. How am I supposed to answer that? I don't want to upset her at her wedding reception, but I'm not going to lie and tell her I wholeheartedly approve of her affair and her marriage. I don't. How could I?

"I think it takes more than one person to ruin a marriage," I say.

"Exactly! I'm sure Barry's wife wasn't perfect. There must have been a reason he looked elsewhere."

Not what I meant. I open my mouth and snap it shut again. What's the point?

"Would you talk to him and make him see I'm not the enemy?" Mum asks.

"What makes you think he'd listen to me?"

We won't become a happy, blended family just because she wants us to. Jacob has every right to be mad at her and his dad, and that's without adding the fact that we've fucked into the equation. I whimper. It was such a good fucking.

"What is wrong with you?" Mum asks.

"Huh?"

"You're distracted. I swear you're barely listening to me."

"The music is loud, and I'm tired."

She squeezes my knee. "Please talk to him. I want us all to get along."

"I'll try, but no promises."

"Thank you." She kisses my cheek and swishes away to another table.

With a sigh, I wander over to Jacob, sword in hand. He has one too, only his is purple and blue.

I waggle my balloon sword. "En garde."

His lips tighten and blanch like he's sucking a lemon.

I sit and hold the sword between my legs. Probably not the best place for it, but whatever. "Mum wants us to get along."

"We get along too well."

I smile. "Is there such a thing as getting along too well?"

"Yes." His voice is strained.

It seems he can't turn his attraction to me off with the flick of a switch either.

"Can we at least pretend everything's cool for the rest of the evening? It'll make Mum happy if we sit together for a while."

He stiffens.

I wag my sword up and down. "I know Mum's feelings aren't your priority, but it would probably make your dad happy too."

He wouldn't be here if he hated his dad.

"Will you stop doing that?" he asks.

"What?"

"Waving that thing around." His face has gone bright red.

"Why?" I wave it around more.

"At least don't hold it between your legs."

I lean close. "Does my balloon sword remind you of my sword?"

"Don't be daft."

"You're right. My sword isn't this big, and I'd be alarmed if it was this pink." I wink and put the balloon sword on the floor beside me.

"You promised."

"I promised not to tell anyone you'd fucked me. I didn't promise not to tease you."

He narrows his eyes.

"Fine. I won't do that either. I could go off you."

"Maybe you should."

"Do you mean that?"

He looks away sharply.

I hook my arm over the back of the chair and scan the room. I need to behave. I prefer older guys because they're more mature, but here I am, acting like a child.

I turn my attention back to Jacob. "I'm sorry for being a brat. It's just that I like you, and my natural default setting when I like someone is to flirt. I can't just switch that off. But I'll do my best to tone it down."

"We can't flirt."

"We're not related, Jacob."

"Not by blood. No. But your mum is my stepmum. My dad is your stepdad."

"Yeah, I got that memo. Thanks. It's not that big a deal."

"Yes, it is."

I throw up my hands. "Fine. Whatever. If I'd realised how fucking uptight you are, I'd never have flirted with you in the first place, let alone slept with you. Goodbye, Jacob. Have a nice life."

Channelling my stroppy teenage years, I grab my balloon sword and storm out of the reception room. I'm done with fancying Jacob.

Yeah, right. If that's true, why do I want him to follow me into the lift, pin me against the wall, and kiss me senseless?