I blink up at Archer, stunned, not because he’s here, but because of the sheer audacity it must’ve taken to walk over to this table and open his mouth.

He’s still standing stiffly at the edge of the booth, arms crossed like some righteous ex-boyfriend delivering divine judgment.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says, his voice low but sharp. “It’s only been what? A month? And here you are, flaunting yourself around with McAlister of all people?”

I don’t respond. Not yet.

“You know, I thought maybe you just needed space. Time. But clearly, I was wrong.” His voice is rising. “You’re already on to the next shiny thing. Real classy.”

Adrian...