Chapter Five: Quinn

Chapter Five

Quinn

“I forgot to pack a hairdryer.” I turn to Archer, who’s already dressed and ready two minutes after getting out of the shower. “You don’t have one, do you?”

“No, but Sam might.”

“Sam?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah. He was really into blowouts for a while.”

“You’re joking.”

Archer laughs. “I wish I was. Let me go look.” He steps out of the bathroom and I flip my head over, wrapping my towel around my hair. Archer got quiet again while we were in the shower, reminding me of his old hot-and-cold self that used to drive me crazy. Hell, it still drives me crazy.

This whole one-step-forward-and-two-steps-back thing with him makes me question what I was feeling, furthering the proof in my mind that I’m not actually in love with him. He’s the father of my child and being together in a perfect relationship is ideal.

I can’t rush what’s not there.

“Found one,” Archer says, coming back into his bathroom.

“This is a really expensive hairdryer,” I chuckle. “Sam was really into blowouts.” I set it on the counter and put on a bit of makeup before drying my hair. When I turn the dryer off and fluff my hair, I hear Archer on the phone.

He’s in the living room and looks stressed. The first thing I think is that he has to go into the hospital and our lunch date will be cut short again. I’ll be a little disappointed if that’s true, and a little scared to be here alone again. Sam is working today, but this time if someone knocks at the door, I won’t leave the bedroom.

I go into Archer’s room and look through my bag. I either overpack or underpack with no middle ground. Since I wasn’t planning on being here today, I’m down to one dress to wear, and it’s more of a date-night dress than a casual lunch-date dress. Oh well. Archer seems to like when I show off my boobs.

I get dressed and go into the kitchen to get an anti-nausea pill. I still feel guilty taking them, but being sick constantly is really wearing me out. Archer is still on the phone but smiles when he sees me, and my heart speeds up.

“Okay,” he says to whoever he’s talking to on the phone. “We’ll see you soon.” He hangs up and sits on the couch next to me. “You look pretty, babe.”

“Thanks.” I lean into him, finding the smell of his cologne irresistible, which is kind of funny since my own perfume makes me want to vomit. “Do you have to go into the hospital?”

“Not yet,” he says with a smile. He looks away. “You know how you wanted to meet up with my parents?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Want to today?”

“Uh, sure?” I tip my head, not exactly following.

“They’re in town. Just got here last night.” He still doesn’t look at me.

“Oh, that’s great!” Isn’t it? Archer doesn’t seem too thrilled. I know there was a lot of family drama going on while he was in college, but he never seemed to openly hate his parents or anything. “Did they come into town to surprise you or something?”

His hand lands on the back of his neck. “Or something.” He turns to me, brows pinched together. “Quinn, that guy who shoved the door into you yesterday is my brother.”

I blink. Did I hear Archer right? “Your brother?”

“Yeah. Robert. But we, uh, we still call him Bobby.” Archer lets out a breath and closes his eyes in a long blink. “I haven’t seen him in years and I have no idea why he was looking for me. My parents are in town because they are trying to find him. He’d been doing all right for a few months and then relapsed.”

“Your brother is an addict?”

“You don’t know?” Archer asks, and I shake my head. “That’s why I stayed with you so much during college.”

“Because of your brother?” I’m repeating myself, but I’m having a hard time comprehending this.

“Yes. No one told you why I was there?”

“My mom said it was because of family drama and never went into it more than that. I just assumed it was about your parents fighting or getting a divorce or something.”

He leans back, sighing heavily. “My brother caused drama between my parents. But it’s always been him at the root of our issues. Do you remember that first Christmas I spent with you guys?”

“I do. Jamie and I thought you were so cute and got into a fight over who could try to get you to stand under mistletoe with us.”

Archer softly laughs. “I actually remember that. Dean was so annoyed with you two.”

“You knew? We thought we were being very discreet.”

 “Not at all.” He meets my eyes, smiling. “My brother was in Vegas and overdosed. Before he OD’d, though, he stole money from a Salvation Army bucket set up outside a store. My parents had to fly out and deal with him.”

“Oh my God. I remember Logan and Owen saying something about your brother being in Vegas, and how he was a crazy partier.”

“He’s been ‘partying’ for the last fifteen years.”

I move closer to Archer. “I’m so sorry, Archer.”

“No,” he says, jaw tensing. “I’m sorry.” He gently touches my wrist, which he rewrapped for me once we got out of the shower. “My asshole brother hurt you. He almost hurt our baby. This isn’t fair to you, and I should have been there and—”

I cut him off with a kiss.

“Archer, I don’t blame you, and you shouldn’t either.”

Archer pulls me into his lap, hand resting over my stomach. My skin is a little tender from being bruised, and I felt that weird, tight pulling sensation again after sex. But it went away fast, didn’t come back, and I’m not bleeding or spotting. I guess I’m one of the lucky ones who’s going to feel every growing pain, but hey—I’ll take it as long as the baby is okay.

“I do blame myself. I had no idea he was coming, but I still feel like I should have warned you. He hurt you, Quinn. That’s not okay.”

“No, it’s not,” I agree. “But it still isn’t your fault.”

“Bobby is a selfish asshole who will use and cheat anyone to get money for drugs. You don’t need that in your life. You said you don’t want any more family drama, and that’s all he is. He’s been missing for days and causes nothing but stress for my parents.”

“Days?”

“Yeah. He relapsed and left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask Archer.

“It’s not an easy thing to bring up.”

I turn my head down, carefully considering my words. “We’re having a baby together, Archer. There’s going to be a lot of things that aren’t easy.” Watching his face, I debate on whether to go on or not. The words are there, wanting to come out and be confessed. I bring my hand to his chest, rubbing the hem of his collar between my fingers. “Do you remember when I said it felt like you were playing a game with me?”

“Yeah. Do you still?”

I shake my head. “No, but I still feel like you don’t really let me in. I don’t know what you’re thinking, and it makes me feel like I’m on the outside. Maybe I’m being dramatic and hormonal or whatever, but I want to feel like you let me in.”

Brow furrowed, Archer runs his hand through my hair. Then his eyes fall shut and he pulls me into an embrace. “Right now,” he starts. “I’m thinking you’re too good for me.”

“I am pretty good,” I say with a smile, hugging him back. “But you are too.” Hugging him back, I want him to let the walls down. I’m falling for him and know his hesitation to let me in is holding me back.

It makes me feel like he doesn’t trust me with his heart.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m shutting you out,” he says. “I’ve never had anyone close enough to share this shit with. Besides Dean, I guess.”

Archer told me he’d rather be with me than be friends with Dean, but it didn’t really hit me until right now just what he was giving up.

“So junior year, you spent most of the summer with us,” I start. “Your parents were in Florida.”

He nods. “At a rehab center with Bobby. He lasted a month and a half.” His brows furrow and he looks away. I can see the anger on his face, and I wish I could take it away. I can only imagine what it’d feel like to have one of my brothers go through something like that. I’d be sick with worry and so angry and frustrated.

“My parents are good people,” Archer says quietly. “They tried, and I still don’t know how Bobby ended up the way he did.”

“They raised you,” I say. “And I think they did a pretty good job there.”

He smiles and relaxes just a bit. “Yeah. Is it horrible to admit I wish I could just forget about him? I think part of why I never mentioned him was because I’d rather pretend he wasn’t there.”

“No, it’s not horrible. It’s easier to forget and not deal.”

He nods. “I’m done dealing with his shit. He’s never going to get better.”

“Maybe he—”

“No. It’s been fifteen years. He’s been to court-ordered rehab more than once. My parents nearly went broke trying to get him into other private rehab centers. He has a disease where the cure has yet to be found.”

I run my nails up and down Archer’s arm. I’m sure I’d be just as angry and unwilling to forgive if I grew up with Bobby. I’ve only met him for a total of two minutes and I already don’t like the guy. But he’s Archer’s brother, and I’d never give up on my brothers.

Fuck, this is complicated.

“I’m sorry to throw this all on you,” Archer says.

“You’re not. You’re my boyfriend, and this little gal’s daddy.” I point to my stomach. “Your baggage is my baggage. And mine is yours.”

Archer runs his hand over my hair. “You don’t have any baggage.”

“I do,” I insist. “And I’d feel better if I confessed.”

Archer purses his lips, trying not to laugh. “Should I prepare myself for the skeletons in your closet?”

“Just don’t judge me.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I used to be really into competitive robot fighting. Like really into it.”

Archer looks at me, blinks, and raises an eyebrow. “That’s a real thing?”

“It is. I’m not a competitive person, but it brought it out in me and I used my personal money to sponsor the team.”

Archer laughs. “There are teams in robot fighting?”

“Yeah. It takes a team to build. That’s, uh, how I met Jacob.”

“Your ex?”

Wrinkling my nose, I nod.

“You are such a nerd, Quinn,” he laughs. “Is that your biggest confession?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Do you think of me differently now?”

“Oh, definitely. This changes everything, and I don’t know if I can go on dating you.”

“Fine,” I say with a laugh. “My life might be a little dull.”

“There is nothing wrong with dull, babe.” He kisses me again, and that push-and-pull feeling is gone. Maybe it’s not too soon to fall for him.

Someone knocks on the door and I immediately jump. Archer holds me, and I instantly feel safe.

“I think it’s my parents,” he says. “They were on their way over.”

“I’m meeting them now?” I whisper-yell, feeling like I’m not ready. I madly try to smooth out my hair.

“You look fine, babe.”

“Fine? Just fine?”

“Pretty. Sexy. Hot. Beautiful.”

I playfully push him away and climb off his lap. “Listing off adjectives isn’t helping. You’re sure they’ll be excited about the baby?”

“Yes. They need some good news right now considering everything else going on. And my mom’s one of those people who loves babies. All babies.” He makes a face and I laugh.

“That makes me feel better.”

He goes to the door, looking out the peephole before opening it. I’m not sure why I’m nervous to meet Archer’s parents all of the sudden. I’ve met them before, but it’s different now. Meeting your boyfriend’s parents is always a big deal, but meeting them and then telling them they’re going to be grandparents is even bigger.

Archer’s mom hugs him as soon as she’s in the door. By the way she’s gushing over him, I assume it’s been a while since she’s seen him in person. She gives him another hug and then sees me.

“Quinn!” she exclaims. “Look at you! You’ve grown up.”

“Hi, Mrs. Jones,” I say with a smile. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Call me Sheila,” she says and comes in for a hug. So Mrs. Jones is a hugger, and she smells overwhelmingly like the perfume my grandmother wears.

“Dad, do you remember Quinn?” Archer steps back, slipping his arm around me.

“I do, and it’s nice to see you again. I always thought Archer had a thing for you,” he says with a wink. Archer got his dark hair and brown eyes from his father but is a few inches taller and many pounds lighter than his dad.

“It’s a little early,” Archer starts. “But is anyone hungry? We can do brunch instead of lunch.”

“That’s fine with me,” I say.

“I’ll gladly go out.” Mr. Jones pats his stomach. “The breakfast at the hotel was terrible.”

“There’s a cute little Mexican restaurant down on the corner.” Mrs. Jones motions behind her. “I could really use a margarita right now.” She nudges me. “Maybe we could split a pitcher.”

“Uh…yeah.” I look at Archer, who grabs his phone and wallet from the coffee table. I pull my purse up over my shoulder and go to the door, waiting for Archer.

“Oh, honey,” Mrs. Jones—Sheila—says, looking at my wrist. “Archer told me what happened. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s, uh, okay.” I force a smile. This isn’t awkward at all. Archer takes my hand and leads me out, locking the door behind him. The four of us head down the hall and get into the elevator. No one says anything, and the silence makes the already awkwardness even worse.

“That’s a pretty purse.” Sheila breaks the silence, looking at my bag. “Is that Gucci?”

“Yeah, and thanks.”

The elevator comes to a stop at the lobby, and we get out. Archer holds my hand and we continue our awkward-as-fuck walk down the block. My family is loud. Between the seven of us, someone is always talking. I wonder how things are with the Joneses, and if the lack of conversation has to do with the fact Bobby showed up, obviously high on something, hurt me, and is MIA.

Yeah, that adds a bit of tension to my first sit-down meal with my boyfriend’s parents. Since it’s not quite eleven a.m., the lunch crowd hasn’t yet moved in and we get a table right away. Normally, I love tacos. I considered them one of the basic food groups while in college. And nothing tested my self-control more than a bowl of chips and salsa in front of me.

But right now the smell of taco seasoning in the air is making me gag. Archer notices and rubs my thigh, and I order a Sprite to try to help.

“So, what do you do, Quinn?” Mr. Jones asks. “I think you were still a college student the last time we saw you.”

“I design and program software,” I say, keeping things simple. Usually, there’s no point in explaining further than that. Most people don’t understand what I do.

“Sounds interesting. And complicated.”

“She’s being modest.” Archer gives my thigh a squeeze. “She invented and sold an app to Apple and now she manages one of the most up-and-coming software companies in the country.”

“Wow,” Sheila says, eyes widening. “That’s amazing. What’s the app called? I might have it.”

Mr. Jones winks. “If it’s one of those candy smashing games, she does.”

The waiter brings our drinks and I sip at my Sprite. “It’s not an app like that. It’s more like an app for apps that helps with the way they process and store data, making them more efficient while taking up less space.”

“You lost me.” Mr. Jones shakes his head and laughs.

“I don’t even get it,” Archer says, turning to look at me. “But it’s impressive.”

The waiter comes back to take our orders, and I go with a taco and a burrito, hoping I can stomach at least a few bites of each. I glare at the bowl of salsa. It looks so good but smells so bad right now.

Being pregnant is weird.

Archer talks to his parents about work for a while, and when our food comes, I can’t ignore how sick I feel anymore. I take one bite of my taco and feel betrayed. I set it back down on my plate and grab a napkin, needing to cover my nose and block out the smell before I puke.

“Feeling sick again, babe?” Archer asks quietly, and I nod. “Did you bring the Zofran?”

“No. I can’t take another yet.” I reach for my Sprite. “I’ll be okay.”

Sheila’s eyes dart from me to Archer and back again. “Are you all right dear? Do you think it’s food poisoning?”

“Mom. Dad,” Archer starts and scoots his chair a little closer to mine. His hand lands on top of mine. “Quinn’s pregnant.”

“We’re going to be grandparents?” his dad asks after a few seconds of silence, almost as if he’s afraid Archer is going to tell him it’s all a joke.

“Yes.” Archer gives my hand a squeeze. “In March. The official due date is the eighteenth.”

“The day after your birthday!” his mom exclaims. “Oh, what a wonderful present!” She brings her hands to her face, tears in her eyes. If only my family reacted this way…

“I have ultrasound pictures, if you want to see them,” I offer, reaching into my purse with my left hand. The small movement hurts my wrist, and I try hard not to let anyone see. This is a nice moment. I don’t want to mess it up by reminding everyone of Bobby.

“Of course! Of course! How far along are you? You said the due date, but I can’t think right now.”

“She’s around eight weeks,” Archer says. “We wanted to tell you in person, and with all that was going on…”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Sheila takes the ultrasound pictures from me and ohhs and awws over them, and then asks about how the pregnancy has been going and what we have planned, which is nothing.

Unlike my parents, however, they don’t seem too concerned. I guess next to Bobby, Archer having an unplanned baby is smooth sailing. He’s smart. Responsible. He’ll figure it out one way or another, and I know without a doubt he’ll be an amazing father…even if we’re not together.

Unable to finish my food, I get it boxed up to take back to Archer’s. Maybe I’ll eat it later.

“You should rest,” Sheila says as the waiter clears the last of the dishes from the table. “I know what it’s like having morning sickness. I had it bad with both my pregnancies. And we should start our search for Bobby.”

“Can I help?” Archer asks.

“No,” his dad says right away. “Take care of Quinn and that baby. We’ll start looking at the usual places and will call you if we find him.”

Archer nods, grabbing the check the waiter just dropped off before anyone has a chance to object. “You’re still coming over for dinner?”

“Yes.” Shelia smiles. “We’ll see you tonight. Have a safe flight, Quinn. And I’m sure we’ll be seeing you again soon.”

We go our separate ways, and I hold Archer’s hand, slowly walking back to his apartment.

“What are the usual places?” I ask as we cross the street.

Archer glances down at me. “To look for Bobby?”

“Yeah.”

“Jail.” He shakes his head, trying not to get angry. “Homeless shelters and free clinics. He tries to go and get pain pills. He never gets any, but he keeps trying. And if he’s not there, then he’s either at a bar somewhere or passed out in a motel bathroom.”

“I’m so sorry, Archer.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me.” He sighs. “I don’t want you to waste any time or energy on him.”

I have no idea what to say back. So I just squeeze Archer’s hand tighter and nod. I wish I could talk to Dean about this, to get his advice on how to handle this situation. He’s been through it before, many times I’m guessing, and will know the best way to go about this. I don’t want to push Archer, but Bobby is his brother. He’s family and will always be in Archer’s life…and now mine.