Page 123 of The Sounds of Her

“Seriously?”

“It’s fucking obvious you’re doing your best not to scream right now.”

“Well, I’m making a conscious effort not to overreact.”

“You, overreact. Never.”

“I’m happy for you both,” she comes around the desk and hugs me. “How is that for restraint? I won’t even tell anyone until you guys are ready. Or,” she winces. “You tell them first.”

“Thank you for that.”

“I better go,” she leans in and kisses my cheek. “I am happy for you. Both of you. Archer is one of the good ones.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now get lost. I have work to do.”

After I shut everything down for the day and wish the remaining people in the office goodnight, I start towards the elevator.

“Brooke,” I turn to Ella on reception. “Sorry, I was going to give this to you, but the switchboard went crazy, and I didn’t get a chance.”

I take the slip of paper from her, hoping I don’t have to go back to the office. I just want to go home, take off these shoes and have a long hot shower. The message is from dad’s assistant. They want me to come to the house for dinner tonight.

The audacity of leaving me a message like this makes me fucking livid. They haven’t even told me they’re back in town.

Okay, actually this is perfect. I’ll tell them I’m done with their bullshit and that is the end of it.

It’s a little after five. It will take me an hour to get there, and I need to book a car. When the doors open to the lobby, I stride out and for once, don’t wish the security guys goodnight.

As I close in on the doors, I glance over at a lone man standing in the foyer. My feet slow and I blink at him. Archer grins. I stop in my tracks, his smile falls as he walks over to me. He’s the last person I expected to see.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, concern filling his face. “Brooke?”

“What are you doing here?”

“I want to take you out to dinner, but there’s something wrong. What happened?”

“My dad called.”

His jaw clenches. “What did he say?”

“They’re back. They want me to come tonight, for dinner,” I laugh, and it sounds a little maniacal.

“Good job I’m here then.”

“What?”

“Let’s go.”

“Archer.” I tug back on his arm. He’s taken my hand and is walking us to the doors.

“No,” he turns to me. “Fuck this Brooke. I’m coming with you.”

“You can’t.”

“I can. And I am. Don’t argue. I have my car outside.”

My mouth opens to argue again, but he turns to me, grips my waist, and pulls me closer to him. He presses his forehead to mine, staring into my eyes. “You’re not doing this alone.”

Archer means every word. He hates my parents for what they’ve done over the years. He’s pissed at them on my behalf. He wants to stand up for me. No one has done that for me before.

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