CHAPTER TWO
DEAN
WELL, SHIT.
After two weeks away from my wife, I was unapologetically expecting explosive sex within a few hours of my return. But after last night fizzled out like a wet firecracker, and with Liv’s sex drive here one minute and gone the next, I don’t know when explosive sex will be on the agenda again.
Not that I’m deprived. Just a little tired of my right hand.
I take a deep breath and finish shaving. Despite the fact that last night hardly went as planned, I’m glad to be home. Thirteen days away from my family was thirteen days too long.
I’d hoped Liv could come with me to Italy—I’ve been working on the Altopascio dig for almost three years now, and she has yet to see the site—but the timing didn’t work out. It never has. We’ve made plans a few times for her and Nicholas to join me, but work and schedules always get in the way.
When I go downstairs, the high-pitched voice of Elmo comes from the TV, and the smell of coffee drifts in the air. The picture windows in the sunroom reveal a sky the color of metal and a springtime growth of weeds and plants sprouting from the mushy ground.
“Morning.” Liv is standing at the central island, putting out coffee mugs. She’s bundled into her padded robe, her hair all loose and tangled around her shoulders. Exactly how I like it.
“Morning, wife.” I slide a hand around the back of her neck and pull her in for a kiss. A surge of unfulfilled lust hits me at the feeling of her lips against mine.
After a minute, Liv pulls away from me and rests her hand on my chest. Guilt flashes in her pretty brown eyes.
“Sorry about last night,” she says.
So am I. I’ve never not been able to make her come, especially after two weeks apart. Never.
“It had just been such a bad day,” Liv continues. “And I wanted to make you happy.”
“I am happy.” I twist a lock of her hair around my finger. “But knowing you’re faking it makes me very not happy. You ever do that before?”
“No.”
I narrow my gaze. “You sure?”
“Of course I’m sure.” She slides her hand up to my neck. “And clearly you figured it out last night. Don’t you think you’d be able to tell if I’d done it before?”
Yeah, I think I’d be able to tell, but doesn’t every guy?
“You’re the one who said I’m a terrible actress,” Liv reminds me. “Really, Dean, I promise I’ve never faked it before. I was just exhausted. Nicholas had been pitching a level ten fit all day, my cake turned into a disaster, and my plans to welcome you home were a wreck. Honestly, I consider it a win that we got as far as we did.”
Can’t say I agree with that.
“Stop frowning.” Liv reaches up to smooth her thumb against the crease between my eyebrows. “You’ve always rocked my world hard, professor, and you know it.”
“Not always,” I mutter darkly. Not as recently as last night.
“Dean, I’m sorry,” she says again. “I swear upon everything holy that before last night, I have never faked an orgasm or anything else with you, but honestly, sometimes I can’t get into it. I mean, we’re so busy raising a toddler and working… Sometimes just snuggling up together in bed is better than the hot sex we used to have.”
Again, not agreeing.
Liv slides herself into my arms and hugs me around the waist. The feel of her against me eases my frustration. I guess I’ll consider it a win too, for Liv’s sake only, but I hate that she can switch gears right in the middle of sex—and then actually lose interest in what we’re doing.
It used to be that fucking was overwhelming enough to block everything else out. Now it takes work for her to even stay focused.
“I promise, things will heat up again,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against my neck.
I bite back a retort of “When?” because neither of us knows the answer to that, and being irritated about our sex life when everything else is so good… well, I’m not such an ass that I’ll complain about it.
Much.
“Hey.” Liv rubs her hand over my cheek. “I know you’re getting all hot and bothered. I really think once Nicholas starts sleeping through the night, and I start getting more sleep as a result, we’ll get back on track again.”
And if we don’t?
Again I don’t bother asking that question aloud.
“In the meantime, take your wounded male pride into the family room and watch Sesame Street with our son,” Liv orders. “As an apology, I’ll make you a very manly breakfast of eggs, black coffee, and thick-cut bacon.”
“Will you serve it to me naked?” I pull her closer.
She smiles. “Hold that thought for a morning when our son is actually sleeping in.”
At the rate we’re going, that’ll probably be when Nicholas is a teenager.
“Go,” Liv commands, gesturing to the family room.
I feel her up a little—squeeze her breasts, rub her ass—just to make sure she knows who’s still calling the shots. Then I obey her order and go to join Nicholas on the sofa.
He’s transfixed by the TV, but he edges over to lean against my chest when I sit down beside him. He smells like sleep and Cheerios, his hair rumpled and his sturdy little body clad in train-patterned pajamas.
My tension eases as my brain makes the shift to Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch.
“Sesame,” Nicholas tells me, pointing to the TV.
“Excellent choice.” I rumple his hair, feeling a familiar and yet still overwhelming rush of love fill my chest.
It’s a different kind of love than the one I have for Liv. My love for my wife is powerfully intense and secure, bone-deep, the essential part of me. It’s the solid ground under my feet, a feeling as inevitable as a sunrise.
With Nicholas, my love is almost scary in its fierceness and layered with so many other emotions I can’t even define them all. Awe. Wonder. Fear. Amazement. Hope. Every day, every time I see him, the love surges anew, like a tidal wave submerging my heart.
“I make puzzle.” Nicholas shoves off the sofa, apparently having lost interest in the cartoon, and waddles over to the puzzle of wooden pieces scattered on the rug.
I sit on the floor with him as he fits the dinosaur picture together, his face set with concentration. Tantrums aside, he’s a good kid—smart, curious, funny, creative. Half the time I can’t imagine he was ever a tiny newborn, and the other half I can’t imagine him ever being older than two.
“Hey, come talk to me,” Liv calls. “I want to hear about your trip.”
“Come on, Nicholas.” I grab another puzzle and push to my feet. “Let’s go hang out with Mommy.”
He follows me into the sunroom, where the kitchen table sits beside the windows. After settling Nicholas on the rug with the new puzzle, I pour a cup of coffee and join Liv at the table.
As we eat breakfast, I tell her more about my trip to Altopascio—the process of damage assessment after the earthquake, the cataloging of archeological finds, the details of my proposal to get the site on the World Heritage list of protected monuments.
“Brought you some things too,” I say, going to the travel bag still sitting beside the door. “I found Nicholas a set of Italian blocks and a pop-up book, which I’m sure he’ll destroy in about five seconds.”
I bring the packages back to the table, handing two to Nicholas and the rest to Liv. I’d gotten her Italian chocolate and coffee, a culinary travelogue, and a print of a Tuscan village.
“This will look perfect on that wall.” Liv gestures to the opposite wall and leans in to press her lips against mine. “Thank you.”
“Here’s one more.” I push a wrapped package across the table to her.
She opens it and takes out a leather journal with hand-cut pages. I’d had it specially made at a printer’s in Tuscany and embossed with Liv’s name on the cover. For a few years, she’s kept what she calls her “manifesto” of thoughts and ideas, and I’ve noticed her journal is getting a little ragged.
“Dean, it’s beautiful.” She runs her hand admiringly over the cover. “Thank you so much. Did you get one for yourself?”
She eyes me pointedly, as always unimpressed with my own habit of scrawling things on the pages of a loose-leaf notebook.
I’m saved from having to answer by the buzz of my cell phone. I smile at Liv and get up to answer the call.
“Dean West.”
“Dean, it’s Hans Klasen,” an accented male voice announces over some crackly static. “Did you arrive home safely?”
“Last night, yes. Thanks.”
“Good. I’ll be in Mirror Lake next week,” Hans continues. “I was hoping you’d have a chance to meet, perhaps for lunch? We need to talk about the Altopascio proposal and your role with the World Heritage Center.”
“Sure.” I pick up my notebook, which I’d left on the desk. “Where are you staying?”
Hans gives me his hotel info. “Have you thought more about interviewing for the job?” he asks.
Shit. Not a conversation I want to have right when I just got home.
“No,” I reply carefully. “You know my priorities are the site and my work at King’s.”
“I understand,” Hans says. “But we continue to believe you’d be an excellent candidate for the position. Look over the documents I sent you, and we can discuss it more when we meet. I’d also like your opinion about the Novgorodian dig and the manuscripts.”
“Happy to provide it,” I tell him. “Do you need a ride from the airport?”
“No, I’m driving. I’ll let you know when I arrive.”
We exchange goodbyes. I toss my cell back on the counter and pick up my empty breakfast plate.
“Who was that?” Liv asks, coming into the kitchen.
“Hans Klasen, director of the World Heritage Center.” I load my plate with scrambled eggs. “He’s planning a visit to King’s next week. We’ve known each other for years, but haven’t had a chance to work together until recently. He stepped in to help with the aftermath of the quake, and I’m hoping he can push the proposal through to the UN Assembly.”
“Is that what he was calling about?”
“Partly. He’s also working on an archeological dig in Novgorod and wants my opinion on some things.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to Russia now.” Liv slips her arms around my waist from behind.
“Nyet, lyubimaya moya.”
She chuckles. “What does he want your opinion on?”
“Birch bark scrolls preserved by the unique chemical qualities of the Novgorodian mud.”
“Mmm. Sexy.” Liv reaches up to kiss the back of my neck.
I put my plate down and turn to face her. Liv’s perspective has always made me see things from a different angle. She was the one who told me I had to go work on the Altopascio dig almost three years ago—and though I’d refused at first, the work has turned out to be one of the most rewarding projects of my career. And because it’s expanded my professional reputation into areas beyond academia, it’s also bringing up new challenges I haven’t yet figured out how to handle.
“Hey.” Liv puts her hand on my chest, her forehead creasing. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I slide my hands down to her hips. “Just office politics. What time are you working today?”
“Morning shift. Do you need to go to campus?”
“No. I’ll spend the morning with Nicholas and go back to campus on Monday.” I kiss her nose, then pick up my plate and join our son at the table. “Are Archer and Kelsey back from California? I need to drop off Archer’s financial portfolio this afternoon.”
“They got back a few days ago, but I haven’t seen either one of them yet.” Liv puts the milk back in the refrigerator. “Kelsey emailed me that they’re getting the Spiral Project ready, so they’re both busy. I can take Nicholas for the afternoon, if you two want to stop by the café.”
“Sure. Call me if you need me.”
“I always need you,” she replies with a smile.
She heads upstairs to get ready for work. I leaf through some mail that accumulated in my absence, picking up a worn postcard with a photo of the Bronze Horseman statue in St. Petersburg. In scrawled handwriting on the back is the message:
Liv,
Candy-colored onion domes, painted nesting dolls, sour cream so thick you can stand a spoon in it. Serpentine canals, wedding-cake palaces, the Bronze Horseman caught in a moment of impossible glory. History both grim and beautiful embedded everywhere.
My adventure continues.
North
Northern Star Richmond—Liv’s old friend from the California commune where she once stayed with her mother and later found refuge when she had nowhere else to go.
I look up at the sound of her entering the kitchen. She spots the postcard and smiles.
“Once upon a time, I thought North would never leave Twelve Oaks,” she says. “Last month, he was in China, now Russia. No telling where he’ll end up next. Hey, I need to get going. You okay with the tornado over there?”
“Sure.”
She reaches up to kiss me, the air around her fragrant with the sweet smell of cherries, before she gathers her things and leaves. I turn my attention to Nicholas. He and I spend the morning racing cars, watching a wildlife program, constructing tall buildings with blocks and pretending we’re monsters knocking them down.
We break for apples and peanut butter, then head to the park for an hour to practice on the monkey bars before stopping at the Wonderland Café to see Liv as her shift ends.
“Hey, cute stuff.” Allie Lyons, Liv’s partner and close friend, emerges through the swinging doors of the kitchen.
“You’ve never called me cute before,” I tell her. “I like it.”
She laughs and holds out her arms for Nicholas. “Cute is not a word I’d use to describe you, Dean, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. You guys here for lunch?”
“Scarecrow Straws,” Nicholas says.
“Your wish is my command, captain.” Allie ruffles Nicholas’s hair.
“Liv around?” I ask.
“Yeah, she’s in the office working on the plans for the festival.”
“What festival?”
“The Mirror Lake Bicentennial Festival,” Allie says.
“Mirror Lake is having a bicentennial festival?”
Allie nods. “Liv is in charge of it. Didn’t she tell you?”
“No.”
“She took over the planning committee to celebrate Mirror Lake’s two-hundredth year,” Allie explains, shifting Nicholas to her other arm. “I’m helping organize the entertainment. It’s going to be held in Wizard’s Park. There’ll be concerts, an art fair, a children’s stage, tons of food, and a fireworks show at night. Liv is also planning a charity auction to benefit the Historical Society.”
I take in that barrage of information. “When did she start all this?”
“A few weeks ago.” Allie shrugs. “Maybe she told you, and you forgot.”
I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have forgotten hearing that my already overworked wife is now planning a town festival and charity auction.
“I need to talk to her,” I say, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Can you deal with Nicholas for a few minutes?”
“Sure. I’ll get him set up in a booster seat.” Allie sets Nicholas on the floor and leads him over to an empty table by the window.
I go through the bustling kitchen to the offices in the back. Liv is sitting at the cluttered desk, working at a computer whose edges are decorated with scrawled Post-it notes.
“Oh, hi.” She looks up at me, her face blooming with a smile, and for a second my resolve falters.
I manage to frown at her. “Hi.”
“Why are you scowling?”
“Because apparently you’re planning a festival to celebrate the town’s bicentennial, which I didn’t even know was taking place,” I say. “And some sort of charity auction, which I also did not know was taking place.”
“Well, it’s to benefit the Historical Society’s restoration of the train depot near Wizard’s Park,” Liv says. “So you shouldn’t be scowling.”
“When were you going to tell me this?”
“I thought I did.” She looks at the computer. “I mean, I wrote down all the… Oh.”
She plucks a Post-it off the computer and hands it to me. Written in her loopy handwriting is: Tell Dean about festival and auction.
She gives me a sheepish grin. I crumple the note in my fist.
“Is there a reason you wanted to take this job?” I toss the note into the trash.
“They asked me to.”
“Who asked you to?”
“The city council. The original festival director got a job in Indiana, so she had to move away. And the city council knows how involved the Wonderland Café has been with local events, so they asked if I’d be interested in taking over the festival.”
“And you said yes?”
“Well, obviously.” Liv puts her hands on her hips. “And I wanted to do the charity auction because the Wonderland Café has always been involved in Historical Society projects. Why are you so annoyed?”
I’m annoyed because my wife seems to have plenty of energy and ambition for everything except our sex life… to the point where she had to fake an orgasm.
Irritation grips my neck. Apparently her little act was more of an insult than I’d initially thought. Since when does she think of something else when we’re fucking?
“I appreciate you wanting to help, Liv,” I say evenly. “But I don’t get why you’d take on the task of planning a festival when you’re already overbooked.”
She narrows her eyes. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
Oh, fuck.
“That’s not the issue, and you know it.” I step closer to her, still frowning. “You have shifts almost every day, you’ve been talking about expanding the café, you’re busy every weekend with birthday parties, you’ve got Nicholas registered for toddler sports and swimming classes… and while you know I’ll help however I can, I’m not happy about you taking on more work right now.”
“Dean, most of the festival work is already done,” Liv says, spreading her arms out. “Linda, the former director, had so much already in place. I just need to schedule the events, make sure we have all the permits, confirm the details, and set up the charity auction.”
“That’s it, huh?”
“I promise, it’s not that big a deal.” She puts her hand on my chest in an obvious ploy to weaken me. “Just phone calls and emails, a meeting or two. It’s going to be a wonderful event for the whole town. And I’m doing it partly to create more visibility for the café and secure our reputation as an important institution. That’s all part of our success.”
I look into her brown eyes and feel an old, familiar twist in my chest. Liv has tried so hard to find her place in Mirror Lake, and I know this is one more way of ensuring that her roots here run strong and deep. It’s one more way of making herself an integral part of the town that has become her home.
But as strongly as I understand that, I still don’t have to like it.
“Do you have an assistant?” I ask. “Have you asked other people for help?”
“There’s a whole planning committee, and I’m delegating duties to everyone,” Liv says, faint irritation flashing in her eyes. “Look, I haven’t complained about you being so busy lately or gone so often. Haven’t you been overextending yourself for the past two years? You know, it’s not always easy taking care of Nicholas by myself.”
My jaw grinds. “I have told you countless times since Marianne moved away that I want us to hire another nanny.”
“I don’t want another nanny, Dean. I want you.”
I take a breath and try to smother a surge of guilt. Liv sighs and strokes her hands over my chest.
“Dean, not once have I resented the work you’re doing,” she says. “I don’t like it when you’re gone, but I know how important the excavation is, and I would never ask you to change anything. I have always supported you, so don’t make it sound as if I don’t know my own limitations, okay? Please.”
I drag a hand down my face. Frustration pushes at my chest. My work isn’t going to slow down anytime soon.
For weeks I’ve been dealing with the fallout of the earthquake, assessing damage to a site that had previously stood for a thousand years, battling governmental officials and institutions who want to kill the whole project. Not to mention making decisions I don’t like. Then sex with my wife last night was hardly a hero’s welcome—not that being angry about that will help anything either.
At this point, however, I’m not sure what will help.
“Dean, I don’t want you to scale back your work, especially now,” Liv says. “I know you need to save the site, and I’m proud of your dedication and commitment. But I want to do things too, and being asked to plan the festival is an honor I can’t turn down. Okay?”
I don’t respond, but I nod.
“I promise, I’m recruiting more people every day,” she continues. “In fact, I’m going to recruit you to help out during the festival, maybe with one of the stages or setting up for the auction. You know how much I love watching your muscles flex when you do heavy lifting.”
She strokes her hands down my arms and looks at me from underneath her long lashes. Some of my tension eases. Though I’m well aware Liv is playing me, I decide to let her. Because anything that gets my hot, sweet wife thinking in a sexy direction—and then staying there—is a win.
“What will I get in return?” I slide my hands around to squeeze her gorgeous ass.
“Whatever you want.”
“Then I happily volunteer.”
“I knew you would.” Liv reaches up to kiss me. “I’ll let you know what I need you to sign up for, okay?”
“Sure.”
As if I could ever tell her no.
After leaving Nicholas with Liv, I drive to the east side of the lake where clusters of rental cabins, outdoor shops, and restaurants cater to the tourist crowd. Next to a sandwich shop is the place my brother Archer bought with his inheritance money. It’s a rundown garage attached to an office, which he’s in the process of turning into a motorcycle repair and sales shop.
I go through the main office to the back room where Archer does all the paperwork. I stop and knock on the closed door. After a moment, his voice tells me to come in.
I push open the door. The air feels thick, laced with tension. Archer is sitting behind the desk in grease-stained overalls, his expression set. Kelsey March, Archer’s girl and one of my best friends, is standing on the other side of the room.
“Hey, man.” Archer rises and extends a hand. “Welcome back.”
“Thanks.” I shake his hand and go to kiss Kelsey on the cheek. “Thought you’d be on campus today.”
“I’m heading over to Edison Power to finalize the details of funding for the Spiral Project,” she replies, brushing a hand through her blue-streaked blond hair. “How was your trip?”
“Good. Got a lot done.” I step away from her. “How was California?”
She and Archer exchange glances before Kelsey shrugs.
“Okay,” she says. “We had to meet with the Explorer Channel producers about the upcoming season. Contract details and stuff. Did you bring me my panettone?”
“Yeah, it’s at home.” I glance from her to Archer, aware of the lingering tension. “Guess I’m interrupting something.”
“No.” Kelsey rolls her shoulders back and fidgets with her cuffs. “You’re not. I was just leaving.”
Archer’s gaze follows her as she heads out the door. Something is off, but I’m not about to try and figure out what it is.
I lower myself into a chair without comment. While I know well that dealing with Kelsey can be a challenge, I’ve learned to stay the hell out of her and Archer’s relationship.
The air crackles with faint awkwardness. My relationship with my brother is no longer overtly hostile, but we haven’t entirely figured out how to get past years of estrangement and anger.
I give Archer full credit, though—after meeting Kelsey, he settled in Mirror Lake and completely turned his life around. He opened the garage two months ago, after a year of searching for a place and working out a business plan. For years, it seemed as if Archer would never even hold a job, let alone own his own business, and he proved all our doubts wrong.
“So what’s going on?” Archer asks.
I hand him the folder I’m carrying. “That’s the details of your investments. I made some recommendations you can look over. Good rates on some newer gold-star funds.”
“Thanks.” He glances through the papers.
“Looks like you’re starting to pull in some customers,” I say, nodding toward the window.
“I put out a few ads and got some word-of-mouth.” Archer puts the investment papers into the filing cabinet. “Hey, I haven’t seen Nicholas since I got back. He’s in daycare today?”
“No, he’s at home with Liv for the afternoon.”
“Maybe I’ll text her, see if I can stop by.” He reaches for his phone. “I might have a lead on a truck for her.”
“A truck?”
“Yeah, for the party thing she and Allie want to do.”
“What party thing?”
“The thing.” Archer works the buttons on his phone. “You know.”
“I don’t know.”
Archer sets the phone aside. “Liv and Allie are trying to get a loan to buy a used truck for the café. I guess they want to be able to go to kids’ houses for birthday parties or whatever. I said I’d help them find something that’d work. She didn’t tell you?”
I shake my head. “First I’ve heard of it.”
Apparently there’s a lot going on in Liv’s life that I don’t know about. Or at least, that I’m the last to know. I don’t like the idea that I’m out of the loop when it comes to my wife.
As I leave Archer’s office, I suppress the urge to call Liv and tell her I’ll donate a truck to the café. She still doesn’t like it when I offer to give her something that she wants to work for—and while I love her drive and know where it comes from, it’s still frustrating when she doesn’t want my help. Or when she wants it only on her terms.
I leave the garage and cross the street. Kelsey’s car is parked at the curb, partly hidden behind a row of trees. She’s in the driver’s seat, her forehead resting against the steering wheel.
Concerned, I walk to the car and knock on the driver’s side window. Kelsey looks up and rolls down the window. Her eyes are glistening with a faint sheen of tears.
I pull a clean handkerchief out of my pocket and hand it to her.
“Thanks.” She blows her nose and gives a humorless laugh. “Don’t tell anyone you caught me being girly.”
“It’s in the vault.” I pause, knowing she won’t want me to probe too much. “What’s going on?”
“Your brother is a goddamned stubborn ass.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“He wants to get married.”
“To you?”
Kelsey glowers at me. “Of course to me.”
“The bastard. You want me to beat him up?”
“Maybe.” Kelsey groans and rests her forehead on the steering wheel again. “I don’t get it, Dean. Everything has been perfect, you know? We live together, we have an amazing time storm-chasing, we fuck like rabbits whenever and wherever we want—”
“I get the point.”
“I’m just saying, it’s all good. Why does he want to screw it up by getting married?”
“Kels, I’m guessing he wants to get married because it’s all good.”
“Well, I told him I don’t need to get married,” she replies. “When we were in LA, he wanted to go to Vegas and do it, then he got pissed when I refused. He doesn’t know how to take no for an answer.”
“Why aren’t you saying yes?” I ask.
“Dean, I’m thirty-eight,” Kelsey says curtly. “I’ve never been married, and I see no reason to get married. It’s not like Archer and I are going to settle down and have kids. Why can’t things just stay the same?”
“If things stayed the same, you might never have met Archer.”
She shoots me a glare, like that’s exactly what she didn’t want to hear.
“Hey, you want to go for a run tonight?” I ask to change the subject. “Or racquetball?”
Kelsey studies me. “How often do you hang out with your guy friends, Dean?”
“Huh?”
“I mean, you play football and stuff with them, right?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Who are they?”
“What?”
“Your guy friends,” she says impatiently. “Who are they?”
“Other professors,” I say. “Archeologists, historians. A few grad students. Max Lyons and I shot some hoops the other day. Why?”
“And none of them wonder why you hang out with a chick?” Kelsey asks.
“Since when are you a chick?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I doubt they notice or care,” I say. “What’s this about? You don’t want to hang out anymore?”
“Of course I want to hang out,” she replies, glancing past my shoulder to the garage. “But have you ever asked Archer to join your football games or whatever?”
“Uh, no. But he’s been busy with the garage.” I shake my head with faint disbelief. “Are you trying to find buddies for your boyfriend?”
“I’m trying to figure out what the hell is going on between my boyfriend and his brother,” Kelsey replies. “Archer has been living in Mirror Lake for over a year. And you and he never do anything together.”
“We went to dinner and that concert last month.”
“With me and Liv,” Kelsey reminds me. “And, as usual, you both let us do all the talking.”
“Actually it was more that we couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”
A faint smile tugs at her mouth before it’s replaced with another frown.
“Look, as far as I can tell, you guys talk business, but that’s it,” she continues. “You know how crazy Archer is about Nicholas, Dean. And it kind of sucks that you and he still can’t get over your shit. Maybe if you did, you could set him straight about this marriage thing.”
“Whoa. Don’t get me involved in your issues. I learned my lesson, remember?”
She gives me a pointed look and starts the car. “Not about how to fix your relationship with your brother, you haven’t.”
She rolls up the window and pulls away from the curb. I stand there for a minute, knowing—and hating—that she’s right. My relationship with Archer, though better now, has always been the one thing in my life I haven’t known how to fix. He’s great with Nicholas, and he and Liv have become good friends, but he and I are still like two animals wary of each other.
Years ago, we used to be comrades-in-arms, fighting zombies, dragons, and monsters from our tree house, which we’d built in an old oak tree in the backyard of our California house. Known as the Castle, the tree house had served as a fortress, a UFO, a Wild West saloon, a robber’s hideout, and a dozen other headquarters.
I start back toward the office. Maybe I’ll ask Archer if he wants to grab a beer tonight. He’s standing outside next to a rundown motorcycle, talking to a customer.
I stop. Even if he did want to hang out with me—which I doubt—I don’t know what we’d even talk about. Neither one of us is into rehashing the past or filling in details of all the years we were estranged.
Archer walks back into the garage, a clipboard in one hand. I watch him go, suddenly feeling a rush of sympathy. I can’t imagine what I’d have done if Liv hadn’t wanted to marry me. Don’t want to imagine it. Won’t.
I turn and walk back to my car. I’ve had to learn a lot over the past few years. How to stay out of Liv’s business and not jump in to rescue her. How to give up control of certain aspects of my work. How to let my family fix their own problems. How to leave Archer and Kelsey’s relationship alone.
I’ve had to learn how to back off, stand down, retreat, when everything in me wants to fight. I’ve had to stop trying to fix everything, even when I’ve wanted to do nothing more. Even when I still want to.