Chapter Sixteen Remi
Chapter Sixteen
Remi
Remi studied Mila closely, taking in the curve of her eyes, the texture of her hair, the small, familiar mannerisms she’d seen a hundred times before, only this time she was observing them with fresh eyes.
She searched for traces of Gerard in the girl—the child she had known since birth and had loved and cherished deeply as her own niece.
But now everything was different. The truth had cast a shadow over every memory, every moment, and the thought of it made her stomach turn.
Their relationship would inevitably shift. She just didn’t know how.
Her relationship with Bianca would change too—irreparably. As far as Remi was concerned, their friendship was over. She had questions, yes, but once they were answered, there would be nothing left to say to the woman who had betrayed her in the most unforgivable way.
She sat with the weight of it. Years of shared history, of laughter, secrets, sisterhood—now tarnished beyond repair. Betrayal had silently crept in, slowly unraveling the threads of trust.
Remi thought back to the countless nights she and Bianca had spent together like sisters—since they were children.
Two girls, very different but drawn together in the chaos of middle school.
Bianca, the loud one, the wild one, with flaming red streaks in her hair that drove her abuelita crazy and a laugh that carried across courtyards.
Remi had been quieter, bookish, observant, cautious in ways most kids weren’t. But Bianca saw her when others hadn’t.
She remembered the first time Bianca stepped in to defend her.
They were twelve years old. A group of girls had cornered Remi in the hallway, teasing her about her proper way of speaking.
She had frozen, didn’t know what to say or how to push back.
But Bianca had stormed in like a hurricane, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her voice louder than the bullies’.
She’s better than all of you, Bianca had snapped. And if you’ve got a problem with her, you’ve got a problem with me.
That’s all it took. From that day forward they’d been inseparable. And nobody messed with her ever again.
There were many more times when Bianca had come to her defense.
Their families were intertwined. She had loved Bianca’s abuelita, as if she was her own grandmother.
And Remi’s grandmother Lorraine had embraced Bianca like family.
Remi had confided in her about her fears, her grief, her loneliness after Gerard’s passing.
And all the while Bianca had been keeping this from her.
It wasn’t just about the betrayal; it was about the deception and the erosion of honesty between them.
Remi knew that Bianca was secretive—it was just her way.
But this was unacceptable. There was silence where there should have been truth.
Mila shifted in her seat in the chair across the room from Remi.
She brushed hair from her face—the part that peeked from beneath her hat, as she flipped through the pages of a Cosmopolitan magazine.
She was oblivious to the storm brewing behind Remi’s composed observation of her.
How would Mila handle the truth when she finally learned it?
Would she still see Bianca as the mother who raised her?
Their relationship was already strained enough.
Mila accused her mother of destroying their family.
Would Mila also resent Gerard for what he had kept hidden?
Would she still consider Harry her father after learning the truth?
How would Zoe handle this after all she’d been through with Bas and the baby?
Would they all look at Remi and expect her to fix it, as she’d always done?
Would she survive this? Would she … would she … would she?
Remi wasn’t sure of anything anymore. But she knew one thing: The truth changed everything.
She had purposely ignored Bianca’s calls and text messages.
She didn’t want to discuss this by phone.
She wanted her in person, where she could see her face; observe her expressions.
She needed her back in Napa, and if she didn’t return soon, Remi was willing to fly to New Orleans just to confront her.
She picked up her phone, read Bianca’s text, and then breathed deeply before typing the words: When will you return to Napa? We need to talk.
She stared at the screen after sending the message, her thumb hovering as if waiting to retract it, to pull the words back in and sit with her silence a little longer.
But it was done. The message had been sent.
Remi hated the way her heart pounded afterward, like she’d opened a door that she wasn’t yet ready to walk through.
She wasn’t interested in apologies or explanations via text.
This conversation needed eyes, breath, and presence.
She needed to see Bianca’s face when she asked her the question that was burning inside her since she found out the truth: How could you?
Not just how Bianca could sleep with Gerard—but how could she sit across from Remi, year after freaking year, pretending like it had never happened.
How could she smile at Mila, knowing she had lied and covered up the truth for the child’s entire life.
How complex of a web she had weaved. It was unforgivable.
She then turned to her own daughter, who sat at the island in the kitchen, hunched over a bowl of cereal, slurping it down as if it was her last meal. Remi tossed her phone onto the couch and stared out the window at the vineyard.
Bianca’s reply came quickly: Sounds serious. I’ll call you in a little bit.
Remi responded without hesitation: This is a conversation that needs to be had in person.
She stared at the screen, watching the typing … bubble appear, disappear, then linger. Was Bianca reading? Thinking? Bracing herself?
Finally, a reply: The girls okay?
Remi typed back: The girls are fine.
Another pause, then: I’ll try to get a flight back tonight, then, if it’s urgent.
Remi typed: It’s urgent.
Remi closed her eyes, a mixture of dread and relief washing over her.
She set down the phone again and exhaled, her fingers tapping absently against the phone.
Remi wasn’t sure what she would say first. The betrayal still burned in her chest like a fresh wound.
Part of her wanted to scream, to demand an explanation, to hurl every emotion she’d bottled up since the truth had come to light.
But another part of her—the calmer, steadier part—wanted to keep her composure.
She deserved answers, but she wouldn’t let Bianca see her break.
She walked over to the window, peering out of it. The vines stretched for acres, kissed by early summer sunlight. This place had become her sanctuary, her place of peace. She refused to let the past steal that from her.
Behind her, Zoe’s voice called out. “Mom? Everything okay?” she asked softly, spoon paused in midair.
Remi turned to face her daughter, forcing a smile. “Yeah, baby. Just some things I need to take care of.”
Zoe watched her for a moment, then nodded slowly and went back to her cereal.
Mila looked up from her magazine. Remi could feel her eyes and knew that her curiosity was pressing.
“Is my mom coming back?” Mila finally asked.
“Yes,” Remi said. “Tonight, hopefully.”
Zoe came into the living room, slid onto the sofa. “Are you two fighting?”
Remi hesitated before answering. She wanted to be honest with the girls—something Bianca hadn’t been. “We’re … not in a good place.”
“Does it have something to do with Daddy?”
Remi took a deep breath. Zoe was more perceptive than she let on.
“Yeah,” Remi said, quietly. “It’s complicated.”
Zoe moved from the sofa, came closer, and hugged her mother. “I’m sorry, Mom.”
Remi held her daughter tightly, surprised by how much she needed the embrace. “Me too, baby.”
The doorbell rang. Both of them froze. Remi looked at the clock on the wall in the kitchen. She moved to the door cautiously, opening it slowly. On the porch stood Leo—holding two takeout bags and wearing a smile.
“I brought lunch,” he said. “Didn’t think you’d have the energy to cook.”
Remi stared at him, stunned at first. Then she softly said, “You really didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.” He held out the bag. “Thai food.”
She took it and stepped aside. “Come in.”
As Leo entered, Zoe grinned. “Hey, Leo.”
“Hey, superstar,” he said, giving her a fist bump.
“Have you met Mila?” Zoe asked. “She’s like family.”
Remi stepped in and explained, “Mila is Bianca’s daughter.”
Zoe’s words lingered in the air, like a quiet revelation.
She’s like family. She had no idea just how much like family Mila truly was.
The sentence struck Remi like a thunder bolt—panic surged through her chest, fast and unforgiving, like a freight train barreling through without brakes.
She tried to steady her breathing, but the truth clawed its way up to her throat.
“Pleased to meet you, Mila.” Leo gave Mila a nod.
“Same,” said Mila.
Remi placed the food on the counter, still shaken by the weight of the evening—Bianca returning and the questions.
Leo reached into the bag. “And before you ask, yes, I brought spring rolls.”
Remi gave him a small smile. “You’re too thoughtful.”
He leaned against the counter and lowered his voice to a whisper, “Pretty sure you needed a friend.”
She met his gaze. “I certainly did.”
In the quiet that followed, she let herself exhale. She was grateful for his presence. And they ate Thai food in the middle of the afternoon.
All day she’d been rehearsing what she would say to Bianca and imagining every possible outcome of their conversation. She wondered if there would be shouting, silence, tears—maybe all three.