Page 86 of The Archer and his Rosebud

I ruffle his hair. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll be done.”

I don’t make a habit of lying to my boys, but they don’t need to be involved in the mess I made. They wouldn’t understand even if I tried explaining. The last thing I want is for them to think differently of Willa when all she’s doing is protecting her daughter. And I’m not ready to let Willa and Clem go. Maybe not telling them is denial on my part, but I also want to protect my boys’ hearts at all costs, and losing Willa and Clem for good will gut them, too.

* * *

As I’m cookingspaghetti for Friday movie night with the boys, Nolan comes running up the steps and thrusts his cellphone in my face.

Figuring Leah’s on the line asking about something, I wipe my hands and take his phone. “Hello?”

“You’ve ignored my calls for two weeks, Archer. What’s going on?”

I shoot Nolan the stink eye.Thisis why I argued the validity of buying him a phone before middle school. How does one avoid sneak phone attacks from relatives when the relatives resort to using the kids?

“Hi, Paige.” I wag my finger in Nolan’s face, and he chuckles as he tears off back downstairs.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me. I’ve been calling you all week and you haven’t answered. Nolan said y’all haven’t seen Willa in weeks. Did you two break up?”

I swipe a hand down my face and lean against the countertop. “It’s complicated.”

“And what exactly does that mean? Did you screw it up?”

Stretching my neck to make sure neither of the boys are in earshot, I lower my voice. “The jackass that got her pregnant showed up a few weeks ago, and when he didn’t like my presence, he dug into my past. Last week, he threatened to take away Clementine because of me, so I made the decision easy for her.”

“Archer,” Paige murmurs. “You were cleared of those charges. You’re innocent.”

“It doesn’t matter. The guy comes from money and has a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount Everest. Just having me in her life threatens his fragile pride. He’d find another way to make life miserable for Willa.” I clear my throat of rising emotion. “And I can’t let him use Clementine against Willa. I just can’t.”

“What a piece of crap. He can’t do that. The courts wouldn’t see it that way. They’d see how good of a mother Willa is, at least I assume she is. From everything you’ve said, he hasn’t been there for her. The courts would side with her.”

“You don’t know that. If anyone knows how corrupt the law can be, it’s our family, Paige. He could have his parents buy off some damn good lawyers and make my case look worse than it was. Not to mention our little age difference. He didn’t hesitate to throw that in my face at her apartment. They could spin anything to work in his favor, make it seem like I’m taking advantage of her and she’s unfit.” My fists grip the roots of my hair. “I don’t want Willa slandered or hurt, so if that means I step aside and put my happiness on the back burner, so be it.”

“Dammit, Arch. I hate this for you. I know I was skeptical at first, but you seemed really happy. For the first time in a long time. This girl made you happy.”

She did. “My happiness doesn’t matter if it means Willa loses Clementine.”

Paige huffs. “Freaking Leah. None of this would’ve happened if she’d just kept her damn legs closed.”

“Paige.”

“I know,” she punctures the words, and I can just imagine her arm tossed in the air. “I’m sorry. I just want the best for you, baby brother, and you never would’ve lost all of those years if it weren’t for what she did. And you’re still paying for it.”

“It’s done and over with.” I turn back to the stove to finish the spaghetti sauce. “We’ve moved past it. Now I just need to be patient and hope this isn’t really the end for Willa and me.”

* * *

WILLA

Clem has been cryingfor two hours straight and nothing I do helps. Not a bottle or diaper change or the solid baby foods we started the other day. Not her play jumper or favorite rattle or blanket. Not bouncing her in my arms or giving her a minute alone in her crib—while I shed tears of frustration. I’ve tried exercises with her legs for possible gas bubbles and turning on a calming, colorful cartoon.Nothingworks.

She hasn’t cried like this since before we switched to formula. I can’t take it, so I grab the diaper bag and my keys, and we bolt out of the building to take a drive. Clem loves the car these days. The soothing hum of the engine, the sunrays through the windows. Give Clem her favorite chew toy and her legs are kicking within minutes as she babbles away, staring at herself in the mirror propped up on the back of her seat.

Not today. Being in the car enrages her more. After driving and screaming for twenty minutes, her face is red and tear-soaked, and I’m about to crawl out of my skin. So, I swallow my broken heart and go to the only place I know will calm her.

The door swings open before I get a chance to knock, and Archer stands with a worried brow and troubled eyes.

“Willa?”

“She won’t stop crying.” Tears leak down my distressed face.

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