My dad only chuckles. “Don’t worry, baby girl,” he says tomy mother, making me wince and pull away. “I heard the whole story from Lucien this morning. Apparently, our son was quite the hero, rushing in to save his boyfriend.”
“For the record,” Archer says, “Freya threw the first punch—a good one too.” When Mira glares at Archer with a scolding look, he puts up his hands. “She was not in any danger…ma’am.”
“Still,” my mom says, fury etched between her brows. “That is very unlike you, Julian.”
I shrug apologetically to my mother. “Yeah, well…I feel very unlike me, Mom. And I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.”
Her features soften, and my dad nudges me with his shoulder. Everyone thankfully drops the subject and starts talking about something else.
Turning my attention away from the table, I look for Freya in the kitchen. Every time I get a glimpse of her through the window, she looks stressed and busy but happy. There’s something in the way she gives orders without barking them or raising her voice that I admire about her.
She really is the greatest person I’ve ever met. And I remember the day I met her. Something about Freya’s fearlessness scared me. It was almost like I could see in those first few encounters that this girl would somehow tear down my walls, and I was terrified of it, so I pushed her away.
I needed to be forced into a confined space with them in order to let someone in. I’m glad it was them.
My phone lights up with a message on the table, so I pick it up and see a text directly from Archer to me with one word…
Archer: Pantry.
My brows furrow as I stare at it. Then I turn my head and glance at him, but he’s still carrying on a conversation with Freya’s mom.
“Well,” my dad announces at that moment. “It’s getting late, and we should really let someone else have this table.”
“Yeah, I guess we should,” Amelia says with a hint of hesitation, glancing at Matis as if she doesn’t want to leave, and I don’t blame her. It really is perfect in here.
Dad claps a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll make sure Mira gets back to her hotel.”
“Okay,” I reply. “I’m gonna stay here to help close up.”
A smile of pride stretches across his face. “You’re a good man, Julian.”
Those words feel heavy as they land on my chest, but not heavy as a burden. Heavy as a blanket. What my father said that day at lunch has stuck with me, about how worthy of a risk love is and how even unconditional love is still worth something. I realize why I’ve been pushing his away for so long.
Wrapping my arms around my dad’s neck, I don’t say the things I’m thinking out loud, mostly because it feels too morbid for this occasion. My time left with him might be finite, but our time with everyone is. So while I have him here, I hug him, no longer afraid to do so.
“Love you,” I mutter. “Thanks for coming.”
Blinking the emotion from my eyes, I quickly say goodbye to everyone else. Freya’s mother peeks her head in the kitchen one last time to congratulate her daughter, and then they’re all gone.
I lost sight of Archer in the chaos, so I go to the one place I assume he is—the pantry.
But when I walk into the storage room where the dry goods are kept, it’s empty. It’s just metal shelving and rice, flour, and beans. Before I walk out, I feel my phone buzz again.
Pulling it out, I find his next message on the screen.
Archer: Grip the top shelf. Don’t let go.
A smirk appears on my face as fire ignites in my groin. Facing the shelves, I look up and wrap my hands around the top metalshelf. Giving it a quick tug, I test the structure, finding it very sturdy, which is a relief.
Who knows what Archer has in mind?
The pantry door opens and closes, but I don’t budge. The sound of the cooks working hard echoes behind him, and I pray none of them has to come in here for anything.
“What is this?” he asks in a playful tone. “For me?”
I smirk to myself as he steps closer. As his body presses against me, I close my eyes and savor the feel of his hard pecs and strong thighs.
“Is this pretty rich boy all mine?”
