Aimee

A week had passed since I’d found out the truth about Archie. I arrived home today after four days away. I’d told Archie I needed to go finalize some things with Aunt Lou’s estate. Funny how he was so agreeable whenever I mentioned anything with her estate. He brightened up like a light bulb. More money for him and his brother.

Or so he thought…

I unpacked my suitcase and put on jeans and a soft, loose sweatshirt. I glanced at the clock. Archie would be home soon. The house was filled with savory smells of the roast beef in the oven. In a minute I’d set up our dinner in the dining room but now I stared at my reflection in the vanity mirror. Still young, still pretty, I supposed, but tired. Tired of everything life continued to throw at me. I smiled at myself in the mirror. I knew one thing though.

I was a survivor.

The candles flickered, their movement casting dancing shadows on the pale painted walls. Dinner was set for two atop a white lacy tablecloth. Etched glass goblets filled with water and red wine stood tall at each dinner place. Fancy, for a weeknight.

I sat at one end of the table in the dining room, facing the kitchen. I had been watching by the living room window for Archie’s arrival and quickly placed the food on the table. A moist roast beef swimming in rich juices with a few sprigs of bright green parsley at the side, mashed potatoes with butter melting, a bowl of precisely diced carrots, and a basket of freshly baked buttermilk biscuits. A meal fit for a king.

Maybe his last meal.

The door opened in the laundry room at the rear of the house and, a few minutes later, Archie appeared in the doorway, his hair tousled, dressed in a smart-looking forest green dress shirt. I forgot for a moment about everything going on and stared at him. He was so good looking. So kind. So supportive. He was my miracle after what went down with Dream. A man I could trust. A man that would always be there for me.

But he wasn’t.

He was playing games.

Like they all did.

I smiled and motioned for him to sit down, and he acquiesced. He sat stiffly, his body barely touching the back of the chair.

We stared at each other.

For a long time.

Archie cleared his throat. “When did you get back?”

“This afternoon,” I said. “I had plenty of time to cook dinner.”

He nodded. “I see that, everything looks great.”

“Help yourself,” I said, taking a sip of wine; a bit dripped down my chin. I wiped it away with my napkin, my gaze never leaving Archie.

He stared at the food with a disgusted look on his face. Did he think I’d poisoned the food?

Maybe I had.

“So you know everything now,” he mumbled. His gaze never wavered from mine.

“I do,” I said. “I saw your brother, Nick, today.”

“I know, he called me.” Archie pushed back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh.

“You can thank me for that,” I quipped, raising my eyebrows.

“What?” Archie snapped.

“You can thank me that your brother is still alive,” I said in a terse voice. “I could have left him in a different state.”

He gave me a seething look. “But you killed Caroline.”

I met his gaze. “Not intentionally.”

Archie jumped up and pounded his fist on the table, causing his goblets to fall over; red wine spilled onto the winter white tablecloth. “You killed my sister!” His eyes blazed with anger.

I stood and met his gaze. “Venus fell over the cliff because she was fighting with me over Dream. I didn’t want to kill him either, but he came after me! I only wanted to scare him and show your sister his true colors. But she couldn’t see how I was helping her. Just like my mother.”

Archie’s body slightly relaxed, his eyes now holding more curiosity than anger. “What do you mean?”

I looked away for a moment, wondering if he really did care, and what that might mean to me. To us.

“Aimee, tell me.”

I looked back to him. Unexpected emotions flooded through me. He did care about me, in spite of everything. My breathing slowed. Maybe we could work through this and still be a couple? We’d both hurt each other; could we manage to forgive? Move away, maybe a city this time. I didn’t think the country was for us.

“Aimee,” he repeated, impatient.

I stared at him. I took a breath. I would try.

“My dad was abusive toward my mom. He would hit her, say vile things to her, all in front of me. It’s what I remember most about my childhood.” I paused. Tears threatened to spill, but I willed them away. “That, and the day I killed him.”

Archie’s eyes widened. He kept his distance, but his voice softened. “You killed your father?”

I nodded. “Mom and I came home from shopping and found him half naked with the neighbor lady. After the lady ran away, Dad threw Mom against the wall, choking her so hard.” I stopped, my hands shaking.

“I’m sorry, Aimee,” Archie said, hesitant. He almost seemed like he wanted to hug me but held back. “What happened next?”

“I went to the gun cabinet, took out the 9MM I used for target shooting. Dad was a cop and took me target shooting every Sunday,” I said flatly. “I shot him. And he died.”

“And your mom?”

“Resented me, even though I did it for her, to protect her, until she drove her car onto the train tracks. They said her car stalled, but I know she waited for it. She wanted to die too, to be with him. She blamed me for everything. She’d told me so earlier that day.”

“Your mom blamed you?” Archie asked.

I met his gaze. “Just like your sister. I promise, Archie, I didn’t want to hurt her.”

A mix of emotions flashed across his face until anger settled in. “You lured her there!”

“Yes, I wanted her there. I wanted her to see the truth about Dream. And if she wasn’t there and Dream went missing, she’d go right to Brother Jim. I didn’t want that happening. She couldn’t see that I was doing it for both of us.”

“How could she? You’re crazy! You say you didn’t want to kill my sister, but you did!” He glared at me. “Did you kill Robin too?”

He didn’t believe me. He didn’t love me. I felt my heart breaking again.