Date Me, Mr. Archer

forty six | a family

AN: yes i'm alive.

Taking my wife to our family's mandatory Saturday lunch had always seemed like an impossible task because Vienna had been upset about our marriage and had said and showed multiple times she wanted nothing to do with me. But things were taking a turn and they were taking one for good because since the last two weeks after we confessed our feelings and I fucked her hard, then soft and slow, we'd been inseparable.

Vienna started working with Lily, helping her edit her vlogs she was making for her social media accounts to help promote our branch of London. Miller had started calling her a lot which honestly annoyed me very much but Vienna was starting to appreciate him again as a friend and the other day she even said she was starting to believe that he might be Ken.

Miller had been an amazing friend to me for all those three years I'd known him during my teenage years but the Miller now was a complete one-eighty from the Miller then and I really couldn't see myself being friends with him again if he continued to remain his impertinent, arrogant bitch phase.

And because I knew I was one petty motherfucker, anytime Vienna received a call from him and I was around, I'd cut short their conversations by interjecting every now and then which definitely annoyed both of them but just laughed me off because, well, what was Miller going to do? Vienna was my wife and she loved me enough to just forgo my childishness and meanness towards Miller.

The woman of my thoughts and the love of my life peered up at me right now, softly biting her lips. "Do you think they will like this?" she asked me, shaking the bag of cookies in front of my face as I pocketed my car keys.

I took her face in my hands, smiling. "My parents will love everything you bring them," I told her. I had suggested we get brownies when we went to my parents' for our Saturday lunch but Vienna quickly rejected that idea. It was our first time in this house as a couple and she wanted to make something herself so naturally, when she said she wanted to make cookies, I helped her. We googled recipes and tried about a hundred combinations in the past week before finally preparing a successful, unburnt batch of choco-chip cookies. "I think they might even love you more than me."

"Oh, come on," she chuckled softly, playfully slapping my chest. "Anyway, how do I look?" When I gave her a blank look, she conceded, throwing her hands up. "Okay, fine. I know I've asked that question about fifty times now and all the fifty times you reassured me my sundress looks pretty but I- I'm nervous, okay?"

I laughed incredulously, angling her face up. "What do you have to be nervous about?" I bent down to peck her lips once. "You've met them so many times before. And as I already said, both of my parents love you more than they do me so loosen up, okay?"

Her brown eyes brightened under the winter sun and she nodded. Getting on her tiptoes, she pecked my lips once and intertwined our fingers, pulling me inside the house.