Chapter 162

Almara’s Pov

Thankfully after the first week of me being home the hushed whispers as I past by someone has stopped, the ogling eyes and requests for autographs has lessened. I think I just disassociated when it came time to that. I smiled and did what would be expected of a Luna in that situation, no more and no less.

Other than that, I’ve developed a bit of a routine. Every morning just as the sun is rising, Grace and I go to the nearby park and walk for an hour. Then we go to Susan’s bakeshop for breakfast. After that I drop her off at day care while I work on my art in my old bedroom. Which has been my favorite part of the day.

Being back in my old bedroom, in a place where if these walls could talk they’d scream. I’ve moved through a series of inspirational emotions. Nostalgia being the first, then retrospective, and finally metamorphic. I’ve created some beautiful art piece, some of my favorites I think.

I sit back now and look at the latest creation I’ve made. I’ve painted a field of wildflowers using a blend of rustic colors and faded pastels. As pollen floats through the silvery-lavender sky,each speck is really made to be a small white star, some shining bright while others dimming as they travel across the canvas.

I’ve mostly fallen into a rhythm here, even the communication with my parents has defaulted back to it’s usual relationship. Sweet, kind, short. I think mostly they’re glad coming everyday to a smiling Grace, but honestly who wouldn’t be?

I find myself realizing the only disruption, for lack of a better word, in ym day when Arthur and I chat on the phone.

I’ve come to find these phone calls bitter sweet. The initial sound of Arthur’s voice still gives my heart a jump-start and even I find myself in disbelief that the Alpha wants to speak to me, only then remembering that I am the Luna.

It’s that realization that crystalizes my parent’s perspective for me when they came to visit. When I speak to Arthur as I sit in my old bedroom that looks the same as from when I was a teenager and I know Arthur is in a thousand- dollar tailored suit on acres of land with a day full of A-list meetings and conferences I can clearly see the difference in our worlds.

I look back at the painting and compare myself to the speck of pollen that started on one field and got carried by life to a completely different blossoming life.

I’ve shown Arthur a few of my paintings and he thinks they’re incredible. When he asks what they mean I tell him I don’t know, mostly because I don’t think I can put it into words. Regardless, he says we should sell them to the art exhibit near us and I tell him I’ll consider.

Truth is, I don’t know if I want these paintings shared. That’s how important they are to me. I tell Arthur that I have to go, it’s getting near that time where I pick up Grace and we take on our evening activities.

Tonight, we’re going to visit Cathy and see how she’s doing. After everything that’s happened neither one of us has really properly apologized. I plop the brush into a cup of water and head on my way.

I push past the doors to Graces pupcare. “Mommy’s here.” Archer says using Graces wrist to wave at me. “Right on time, as always.” He says with his signature lopsided grin. It’s boyishly cute.

Aside from their names, Archer and Arthur couldn’t be more different. Arthur is built and broad where Archer is lean and slender. Archer has calming blue eyes and Arthur has piercing dark-green. Archer’s hair tousled and lighter and Arthur’s is darker and neatly gelled most of the time.

Even their personalities are different. Arthur fits the title Alpha to a tee with his strength, go-getter attitude, and dominance. Archer is softer, he flows like water seeming fine with whatever comes his way and adjusting as need be. Though, as gentle as water is, it can also carve through rock.

I’ve caught myself comparing them numerous times and I tell myself to stop. What am I looking for anyways?

“How was she?” I ask, spreading my hands out to her. Archer hands her over.

“Perfect, of course.” He says his smile never fading. One thing I do greatly appreciate Archer, besides his seemingly natural instinct to care for pups is that he’s the only one who never once asked me anything of my other life- as I’ve come to call it.

In fact, he’s never even let on that he knows I’m the Luna. And just like I didn’t correct Susan, I don’t correct Archer either. I’ve decided to let people come to their own terms about me, rather than me needing to prove to tell them who I am.

“We’re going to miss her when you leave.” Archer says and even though he’s talking about Grace, I’m sensing some undertones.

“We don’t need to think about that, yet.” I say realizing I also am going to miss my little routine that I have.

“I suppose. I’m used to people coming and going.” Archer says and the admission takes me back a bit. I’m not sure what to say. Archer reads my face and immediately retracts his speech.

“I’m sorry. That was unprofessional. I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s just personal stuff I have going on.” He says and I can tell he’s embarrassed. I don’t want him to feel bad for wearing his heart on his sleeve, for being authentic so I reassure him there’s no need to be sorry.

“I completely get it. I’ve had my own fair share of disappointments.” I’m not sure why I’m sharing this with him, I guess because I don’t want him to feel all alone. He perks up as my relation.

“Really?” He says. “It’s just, you have a family.” He says and I expect him to say more, but he doesn’t.

“Don’t you have a family?” Is what I mutter and instantly feel stupid for asking.

“Well, my mom died when I was young. Probably Graces age actually and technically, yes, I have a father. Who just dank himself into a stupor last night and undid thirty days of recovery.” Archer says, his smile now dim.

My own heart sinks. I don’t know why. I know brokenness is all around us I guess I just didn’t expect it to be this close. I don’t mention that thirty days of sobriety isn’t quite a lot. I mean we all have to start somewhere, this just means Archer’s dad is new to recovery at all which makes all of this so fresh.

“Oh, wow.” I say and want to say more, I just don’t know what. Archer shakes his head and tries to laugh the sadness off.

“You don’t have to say anything. I shouldn’t have said anything.” He says and when he looks at me again my heart does something else. “I’m sorry.”

This man was just telling me all the trouble he’s going through and yet he’s sorry? I do what I do next against my better judgement.

“Do you want to get dinner with us tonight?” I ask. Though even as I ask, it’s Arthur’s face I’m seeing and he doesn’t look happy.