Page 91 of The Archer and his Rosebud

“I’m all right, thank you.”

Settling in opposite facing cream couches, Mrs. Reynolds lifts a polite smile, patting her short golden hair as Mr. Reynolds pours a glass of amber liquid from a silver and glass cart in the corner before joining his wife.

Her shoulders roll back as she adjusts the collar of her pale blue blouse. “It’s really a shame we never got the chance to meet until now.”

“It is. I was always disappointed every time our plans fell through.” I try to break the ice with a gentle smile. “But I’m sure you two lead busy lives.”

“Oh.” She chuckles, a ruffle to her forehead. “We were under the impression you were never able to join us.”

My head tilts. “No, Ty always said something came up for you.”

She hums, and Mr. Reynolds takes a sip from his tumbler, eyeing me above the glass.

His silent assessment has me jumping right in. “So, Clementine. I’m sure you both have a lot of questions about her, and I want to answer anything you might want to know.”

“Well, we didn’t even know of Clementine’s existence until our dear friend, Claire, Georgina’s mother, told us. It was quite the surprise, to say the least.”

My nails dig into my palm. “You didn’t… Ty didn’t tell you when he found out I was pregnant?” Was his plan to keep her secret forever? “I’m sorry, I assumed… I would have called if I’d known. When I ran into her, Georgina didn’t even know Ty wasn’t a part of Clem’s life. I should have realized then.” They sit in stoic silence as I process their revelation externally. “He made his stance on the situation clear from the beginning, so I made my own way, assuming you felt the same way.”

“And what stance is that exactly?” Mr. Reynolds asks with an arched brow, and his wife follows up with, “We were under the impression you were trying to keep her away from Ty.”

My gut was right. The way Ty spoke at lunch yesterday about how Clem is raised, how she’s a Reynolds—the boy who wanted nothing to do with this beautiful girl. None of what he said made sense falling from his frat boy mouth.

I do my best not to scoff. This is their son, and it’s not my place to throw him under the bus, as much as I want to. They can draw their conclusions when they have all the facts.

“I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, but as soon as I told Ty I was pregnant, he wanted nothing to do with us. He broke up with me before I found out, and then disappeared when I told him I was keeping her. I hadn’t heard a word from him until he contacted me last month.”

The Reynolds share a confused and almost ashamed glance.

“You should know, I did care for your son. He swept me off my feet when we met. He was charming and funny, and I was enamored from day one, but I had goals. I’ve always worked hard at school. I had ambitions for my future, for a career. Trapping your son with pregnancy was the furthest thing from my mind. I was hurt when he broke things off, and that was before I knew about Clem. I come from a broken family, and I had no intention of having my own.”

Mr. Reynolds hums but doesn’t reply.

“Your story is quite different from Ty’s, but it explains things more clearly.” Mrs. Reynolds folds her hands in her lap, her pale pink lips mashing together.

The Reynolds share a veiled look. His mother’s head shaking. “When we learned about Clementine, Ty tried explaining away his not telling us by sayingyoukept your pregnancy a secret. Of course, Claire told us how Georgina helped throw you a baby shower. I knew he’d lied, but I never imagined there was so much more to it.”

I hate shattering their faith in their only child, but they have to know. “The first time I heard from him was when Clem was four months old, a few weeks after I ran into Georgina on campus. He asked to see her.”

“I suppose that’s my doing.” Mrs. Reynolds’s composure falters. “As soon as I learned of Clementine, I ordered him to speak with you. I nearly drove to Burlington myself. I was out of my skin with the need to see her.”

Of course, she was. “And I’m assuming Ty’s recent desire for custody has to do with your knowledge of myfriend,” I nearly choke on the word, “Archer.”

Mr. Reynolds shifts, crossing his ankle over his lap. “Ty may have mentioned him.”

I figured as much. “What he shared with you might not shine the best or most truthful light on Archer. I understand it may be hard for you to trust me right now, considering what Ty’s told you, but I’m here today willing to be open with you about everything, for Clem’s sake. Will you let me explain who Archer really is?”

With their encouragement, I start at the beginning. How I met Archer and who he’s been in our lives. I don’t edit my struggles or my fears. Honest is all I know how to be with them. When I move to Archer’s story, my throat goes hoarse as I explain everything without exposing too much of his personal life with Leah. Every detail they’d need to know to understand Archer is far from the criminal Ty has portrayed him as and the innocent verdict the court declared.

“Look, Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds—”

“Please call us Alan and Ellie,” Mrs. Reynolds,Ellie, suggests. “You are our granddaughter’s mother, after all.”

“Alan, Ellie, I have no intention of keeping your grandchild from you. If you’d like, I would love for you to be a part of Clem’s life. She deserves to know her grandparents. But something tells me Ty doesn’t want the responsibility of fatherhood.”

Mr. Reynolds—thinking of people I was cursing for trying to ruin my life less than twenty-four hours ago as Alan and Ellie is difficult—swirls the amber liquid with a resolved nod. “We’ll need to have a family discussion with Ty, but I believe Clementine is in the right hands.”

Unexpected emotion clogs my throat. “She’s my world.”

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