A cheer greets us when Quinn and I enter the kitchen the next morning.

“There are the lovebirds!” my mother squeals, wrapping me in a huge hug, then moving on to Quinn.

I almost laugh. “Lovebirds” doesn’t describe my fiancée and me. When I slipped into our room late last night, Quinn was already asleep. But this morning was awkward as hell with both of us trying to give each other a wide berth. It felt like the last three months didn’t happen.

Quinn hating me…

Me avoiding her…

We’re right back where we started, and it’s my fault.

“Good morning, Claudette,” Quinn says, easing down into a chair. She chooses the one between Dalton and my father, leaving me two options at the other end.

Yup. She’s still pissed.

“Quinn, you must call me maman,” my mother says, smiling. “You’re going to be family now!”

I’m the only one who notices Quinn flinch. “Um, thank you. That’s very kind.”

“Congratulations are in order!” my father booms, heaving to his feet. “Your mother and I have prepared a little champagne toast for you two this morning—”

“It’s rather early for champagne, isn’t it?” I interrupt.

“Hogwash,” my father huffs, returning from the fridge with a bottle of bubbly. “You two blazed out of there so fast last night that the family didn’t have time to congratulate you.”

“Though who can blame the two lovebirds for wanting to be alone,” my mother interjects, giving Quinn and me a meaningful look.

I glance at Quinn, but she won’t look at me.

“So,” my father says, after tipping the last of the champagne into my glass and fetching Faith orange juice, “everyone raise your glasses… To Archer and Quinn!” my father says, beaming at us both.

“To Archer and Quinn!” everyone but my fiancée and I repeats.

I meet Quinn’s eyes over the clinking of glasses. They’re red and puffy, like she’s cried herself to sleep.

“Archer, would you like some eggs?” Faith asks, passing the plate around the table.

“No, thanks.” I try to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace.

“Is everything okay?” she asks. “You look tired.”

Dalton jostles his wife with his elbow. “Aw, don’t worry about Archer. I doubt he and Quinn got much sleep last night…”

“Dalton!” she scolds, slapping his arm.

I give Faith a grateful look before stealing one at Quinn. I hope she didn’t hear until I see her bright red ears.

“Are we expecting good weather today, Father?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation away from my fiancée and my nonexistent sex life.

My father sets aside his paper. “Sure are, and full sun.” He beams around the table at us, looking at each of us in turn. “Thank you for being such a supportive family. I couldn’t have gotten this far without you. And I even get a new daughter out of it!” he adds with a wink at Quinn.

Quinn’s fork tumbles from her hand onto her plate.

“Are you alright, dear?” my father asks.

“Oh, fine,” Quinn hurries to say. “My stomach is just off this morning.”

“We’re all tired, but the picnic isn’t anything to be worried about. It will be much more laid back than—”

He stops as the door to the breakfast room opens. Tessa glides in, immaculate in a white sundress that flatters her tanned shoulders. She carries a hat and sunglasses in her hands.

“Good morning,” she says tightly, sweeping her gaze around the room before landing on me. “I didn’t realize anyone would be up.”

“The Strattons are early risers,” my father says, chuckling. He stands up and takes her hand. “You look lovely this morning. Can we interest you in some eggs and coffee?” he asks, motioning to the seat next to me.

Tessa and I stare at each other for a moment. She shakes her head. “No, thank you. I think I’ll take my coffee outside to the veranda.” She flicks her eyes to Quinn, who’s staring at her untouched food. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt family time.”

I bite my tongue. She just couldn’t resist a dig at Quinn and me.

I stand up and stride over to the buffet table. “Here, let me,” I say, grabbing a mug and the coffee pot. I add two creams and thrust it at her. “Enjoy. The weather’s supposed to be magnificent out there.”

She takes a sip and simpers at me. “Why, Archie, you still remember how I take my coffee.”

“Some things you never forget,” I murmur. “Like infidelity.”

Her simper turns into a glare. “I see.”

“I hope you do,” I say in a low voice, “because I’d hate to have to remind you to stay out of my life.”

“Are you sure you won’t join us, dear?” my father calls out. I turn to find the whole table watching us. I spot Quinn and catch my breath. The hurt look on her face levels me.

“Tessa is sure. Isn’t that right?” I snap, turning back to her.

Tessa glowers at me before giving a curt nod. She flashes my family a tight smile and then turns to leave the room.

I let out a sigh of relief and return to the table. Quinn is back to eating, though she’s only picking at her eggs with her fork.

“I have an idea,” my mother says, breaking the silence. She glances at Quinn and me. “What do you two say to an engagement party?”

“No,” I rush to say.

“Too bad, because I’ve already called the country club!” she says happily. I see Quinn start tugging at her paisley sundress. She looks nothing like a happy, giggling, affianced woman should upon hearing about her engagement party.

“That’s very kind, Mother, but Quinn and I don’t need a party,” I say. “I’m sure Quinn would agree with me that we’re partied out.”

My mother frowns. “But every couple gets an engagement party.” She turns to Faith. “You loved yours, didn’t you, my dear?”

“Of course, maman,” Faith soothes, “but I don’t think that’s what Archer is saying.”

“You’re a wonderful party-thrower, Mother. But I’m tired, and I know Quinn feels the same.”

“Quinn, is that true?” my mother asks.

I clench my fist around my fork. I already know what Quinn will say. She’s too kind and polite to insult my mother by giving her real opinion.

Quinn glances around the table, then sighs. “I’m happy to have a party,” Quinn says with forced joviality.

My mother claps her hands. “Bon! I already have a few dates. Would September sixteenth work?”

Quinn starts to nod, then shakes her head. “Wait, no—that’s the day of my best friend’s wedding.”

“How lovely. Where is it?”

“Sunset Terrace at Chelsea Piers.”

“Great space,” Faith says. “I was in a wedding there a few years ago. The view of the river is spectacular. Have you seen it, Archer?”

I shake my head.

“And he won’t,” Quinn cuts in. “You have to work that weekend.”

I narrow my eyes at her. You’re uninviting me?

“Don’t you remember, love?” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “I gave that project to someone else. I’m free now.”

“You don’t say?” my father breaks in. “Giving projects to other people…sounds like you’re finally sharing the workload.”

I smile, keeping my eyes on my fiancée. She glares daggers at me. “Can’t do it all, right?” I say.

Your move, East.

I know I’ve won when she looks away. “Right. Must have forgotten,” she says lightly.

“That’s no problem,” my mother says, getting up and heading for her purse. “I’ll call them back and see if the next weekend is free.”

My father turns the conversation back to the picnic, but I’m barely listening. I’m still focused on Quinn, who looks like she’s about to bolt from the table.

“Dalton, if you could talk to—”

My father pauses as my mother comes back to the table. “The club only had October seventh free,” she says. “Does that work for you both?”

I let Quinn answer for us. She nods. “Sure.”

“You know,” my father says, “that’s a month before the election. Perfect timing. We could have a segment in the society section…”

Quinn stands up and scoots her chair away from the table. “Excuse me,” she mutters before walking toward the kitchen. She tries hiding her face, but I can see her pained look.

“… and then Archer could do an interview—”

I slam my fist down onto the table. “Goddammit, Father!”

“Language!” my mother scolds. Quinn pauses in the doorway and looks back.

“What in heaven’s name—” my father begins.

“Quinn and I are not puppets,” I say.

My father stares at me. “I never said you were.”

“Then stop thinking about your family like this!” I run a hand over my eyes. “We don’t want our engagement used as some media tool to garner votes.”

“I would never do that,” my father argues.

“I don’t know, Dad,” Dalton says. I look at my brother with surprise. He never stands up for me like this.

“Dalton…” my father says.

Dalton shrugs. “Archer and Quinn have done everything you’ve asked. Stop trying to meddle in Archer’s love life.”

The irony of that statement makes me cringe. My father must feel it, too, because he deflates in his chair.

“I’m sorry, Archie,” he says. “My scheming gets the best of me sometimes.”

“Just…leave us alone for once,” I ask.

My father nods and falls silent. My mother reaches out a hand and pats his arm.

“Let’s talk about today,” she says. “This is the Strattons’ Annual Labor Day Picnic, so let’s make it one for the ages.”

While my family turns their attention back to today, I turn mine to my fiancée. Quinn watches me from the doorway, her eyes pensive as they study my face. She gives me a half-smile when she notices me looking at her, and then disappears into the kitchen.

It may not be much, but it tells me we’re one step closer to mending our fractured relationship. And right now, that’s all that I care about.