Pizza Hut feels colder than usual.

It is where our conversation happened in my dream, and when Dad suggested we go there, I was too tired to try to stop it. And so I went with the flow, and I was back to square one.

Everything was just I had seen it. We were handed our menus by a waiter named Harry and he spoke with the same weird drawl as in the dream. We had secured the corner booth and Dad ordered veg.

'The doctor says I should exercise more. My cholesterol levels are sky high, trust me. He told me to take the stairs instead of the lift.'

Fuck you, Dr. Brandon.

I fake smile. No point prolonging it after all.

'Why come here without a notice Dad? You didn't text, nor call - I had no idea. What is it?'

Liar, liar, liar.

'Actually,' he leans forward on his elbows and fidgets on his seat. 'There is something I need to tell you.'

Here comes.

'Your mum and I are getting a divorce.'

There.

I chew on my pepperoni. I feel the tangy taste of the creamy cheese as it melts in my mouth.

'Kaitie. Say something.'

I don't know what to say. I don't know what to feel. A million emotions swirl in me, and nothing really matters except that my family is broken.

'Does Jeremy know?'

Dad nods.

The traitor. He never gave me the heads up.

'Kaitie. Sweetie, I know it's too much. But, me and Sienna, we've always had our differences. We were together just because of Jeremy and you.'

I chew, chew and chew. 

'And that reason is no longer enough?'

Dad sighs. 'We were never meant to be, Kaitie. We were different, too different. We never really loved each other, you know? And everything's different now, with the baby and all.'

I perk up. The dream had cut off when my Dad announces the divorce, so I had no idea what he was talking about.

'Baby?' I demand. 'What baby?'

Dad sighs, but now, it's more of a sigh of helplessness. 'Your mother is pregnant.'

I look at him quizzily.

'With Peter's child. The producer of that goddamn new movie of her's? Him.'

I rake my hands through my hair. My head spins. My jaw hurts.

'She cheated on you?'

My Dad stays silent.

'Dad. She cheated on you?'

'Yes.' 

My nails cut into my palms. 

How could she? After all the memories our family had together? Trips to the beaches, and getaways, when their schedules aligned. We would go away to Malibu or Bora Bora and soak in the sun. Dad would rub the sunscreen onto Mom's exposed shoulders and he would smile at me and call me his sunshine. Or he would take us in his car to Mom's studios, telling me and Jeremy to cheer for her as she karate-kicks a villain's ass. We would watch her movies on our home theater and laugh at her bloopers.

I had seen him. He was always by her side, consoling her when she lost her Emmy by a narrow, encouraging her to work harder, the pride in his eyes when she won the Oscar. There had always been a gleam in his eyes when he talked about her. It was evident in the way he looked at her when she wasn't looking, how he compliments her when she walks out all dolled up for her promotions, how he happily stayed behind the limelight as her arm-candy, how he brought her soup when she was sick, how he stood beside her, even when she had been a struggling back-up actress back in the day.

'You loved her.'

His lip quivers. 

He still does.

My mother is a bitch. 

'She is the one demanding a divorce, isn't she?'

He hangs his head in shame. 

'I tried, darling. I watched it all fall apart, but I tried. But I just couldn't anymore. I am just too tired.'

I reach for his hand across the table.

'It's okay, Dad. It's all going to be okay.'

/*\*/*\

Dad took the first flight out to London that evening. He needed some space, and I totally understood, considering he never meant to say anything more to me. 

He was hurting, the poor soul. My own heart felt like it was cleaved in two, and I could only imagine how much he was suffering.

I needed someone. The emotional baggage was too much, and I was feeling like I was underwater. 

I pull out my phone and dial Tristan.

'Hey.' 

'Hey.' My voice wobbles. 

'Hey. Is there a problem?'

I rub my forehead. 'I, uh, wanted to talk to you.'

'About?' 

'Family.'

'Huh.'

'Hey, I'm at Pizza Hut. Could you ask Hes to drop you here, so that we can go home together?'

'Right. About that, sweetheart, I have to do a rain check for tonight. Something came up, and I really can't get out right now. What about we go somewhere for the weekend?' 

This can't be happening. Not when I needed him most.

'Sure, Tristan. Later?'

He hangs up, before I could say anything else. 

I have never felt more alone.

/*\*/*\

The penthouse is silent as I turn the key in the lock and swing the door open. 

Archer is sitting-wide-apart on the couch, watching Netflix. He regards me with amusement. 

'Thought you said you had a sex marathon with your boyfriend tonight.'

I take off my shoes, and throw my bag to a corner. 

'Were you that bad he told you get out?' 

I walk to the fridge and pull out a beer. 

'Hey, I am talking to you.'

I uncap the bottle and down the beer in a single gulp.

'Kaitie. You okay?'

I throw the bottle away, and nod. I make a move towards my bedroom.

Archer grabs my arm. His long fingers are gentle, but strong enough for me to not pull away.

'You are clearly not okay.'

'Let me go, Archer.'

He spins me around so that I'm facing him. 

His eyes are still dark, but they are not sparkling with humor or amusement. He looks genuinely concerned, and his voice is a caress.

'Kaitie. What's wrong?'

It's all too much. The divorce, mom's pregnancy, my supposed powers over my dreams, Archer. It is all taking an emotional toll, and I can't help the tears that leak out of my eyes.

Archer realizes that I've lost my shit, and he does the one thing I never expected him to do. 

He hugs me.

The feel of his arms around me causes me to cry harder. My body rakes with uncontrollable sobs and he holds me close, his fingers in my hair, and he lets me soak his shirt in tears. He holds me tight, and whispers soft soothing words in my ear, assuring me that it was all going to be okay. He holds me as I cry my heart out, as I grieve for my family that is no longer whole. He doesn't press me for answers, nor does he ask anything. 

He just holds me up.

And, surprisingly, I let him.

/*\*/*\