I clear my throat. “Yeah, I guess I have.”
“Families are complicated.” He says it like he knows. “You can love people and still not be able to save them from themselves.”
Somehow, he’s defined my dilemma completely, and in fewer words than I’ve managed in a decade of trying.
“It’s definitely complicated,” I reply.
We stare at each other. The moment stretches. His eyes drop to my mouth, just for a second, then snap back up.
And with that, the attraction between us is back.
If anything, it’s been made worse by what I’ve just told him. It’s been a long time since I’ve confided anything personal about myself.
I’ve never even told Andrew the exact details of my complicated family and everything I left behind in Detroit.
I’ve tried to keep that part of my life completely separate from who I’ve become.
My stomach hollows when I remember the last person I ever talked to about my family.
Vaughn Mansley.
We’d gone to a bar one night after we’d been working late, and after a few whiskeys, I’d let my guard down and told him a bit about my childhood with drunk parents, an empty fridge, and being the one who made sure my siblings got to school in the morning. He’d seemed sympathetic. Little did I know he would use that knowledge against me, knowing I’d have no recourse when he stole my idea.
And now I’ve got his little brother looking at me with those same hazel eyes. Although Archie’s have a warmth in them that Vaughn’s never did, they still remind me that I’ve been fooled by a Mansley before.
I stand abruptly.
“I’m going to get some seconds,” I say. The scrape of the plate against the coffee table sounds too loud in the sudden silence. “Do you want some more?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“Do you want to put on that detective show so we can watch another episode?” I say as I head for the kitchen.
“The detective show. Right.” Archie reaches for the remote, and I escape to the kitchen before I do something stupid.
The fluorescent light is too bright after the lamp-lit warmth of the living room. I stand at the counter, staring at the takeaway containers, and remind myself of the facts.
Fact one: Archie Mansley is Vaughn Mansley’s brother.
Fact two: The only reason I’m in this apartment is because I tried to dump maple syrup on Vaughn’s head.
Fact three: Archie doesn’t know any of this. He thinks I’m here out of guilt. He thinks the man eating his grandmother’s comfort food and spilling his tragic backstory is someone worth caring about.
Fact four: If he ever finds out the truth, whatever this is between us will curdle into something ugly.
I spoon more dumplings into my bowl. My hands are steadier now.
I can’t let this happen. I won’t.
When I return to the living room, I sit on the opposite end of the sofa. Archie glances at me, then at the space between us, but doesn’t comment.
He doesn’t need to.
Chapter Eighteen
Archie
Jaymee’s pet shop smells like hay and hamster bedding.
