That was something, right?
Chapter Seven
Run to you
Archie held my hand all the way to the drive-thru at the Braums. He picked up two pints of ice cream and a couple of burgers and fries. Then we snagged coffee from Starbuck’s. When he turned back toward his place, I stiffened.
“Easy,” he murmured, catching my hand again. “Muriel’s already gone. She stayed a whole hour after you left before she took off. This time, she’s going to the spa for a couple of days.”
I licked my lips. “What about your dad?” I really didn’t want to see him.
“Call Jeremy,” he said, and his phone began ringing via the speakers.
“Yes, Mr. Archie?” Jeremy answered the phone.
“Hey, has Edward shown up, or is he still MIA?”
“I have not seen him, but I could check if you would prefer.”
Archie glanced at me, and I mouthedpleaseand he nodded. “Yeah, if you would. Check to see if the Beamer is back, that was the car he went out in.”
“Give me a moment.”
“If he’s there, I have a plan B,” Archie said, then squeezed my hand. “Okay?”
I nodded. “Thank you. Sorry to be difficult.”
Chuckling, he shook his head. “Babe, you are not being difficult. I don’t want to see him either, especially after Muriel was such a bitch this morning.”
With a grimace, I sighed.
“Drink your coffee, it helps—a little.” The coaxing note in his voice lulled me. I really was much better than this. Why the hell I was so off-center, I really didn’t know. I couldn’t get past the knots in my stomach. It was ten times worse than when Archie told me their plan for Mathieu.
That had only been the day before. How could so much happen in twenty-four hours?
“Mr. Archie?” Jeremy’s voice startled me. I half-forgot he was still on the phone. “Mr. Edward is not on the estate as far as I can tell, and the BMW is not in the garage. I believe if you return and head to your wing, you will not encounter him, and I can warn you if he arrives.”
“Thanks, Jeremy.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
Then the line disconnected. “That work for you?”
A shiver went through me, but I nodded.
“Okay, almost there, babe.”
Once we were back at his place, it seemed almost surreal. My fourth time there in forty-eight hours. Friday night. Saturday evening. Sunday morning. Now.
Two of the three had ended okay, so maybe this would, too. I hoped so.
Archie snagged my backpack, and I carried the ice cream and coffee while he also got the food. We didn’t encounter anyone—not even Jeremy—on our way up. There was a mini fridge and freezer in the game room where he shoved the ice cream, and then we retreated into his bedroom and he locked the door.
“Voila, privacy.”
A little laugh escaped at his grand sweeping gesture as he spread his arms.
“Better?”