Chapter Fifteen
Marcee didn’t know how many times she could shove Alex out the front door—at least four.
“I shouldn’t go. After what happened at the auction and now you’re sick; you can’t be alone. And on a holiday to boot!”
It had to stop. Exasperation did nothing for her low energy levels.
“Alex, I love you, you’re the best, but you need to get your bubble butt out of this house now. You’ll miss your flight making up excuses to come back inside.” And she needed to get to the store to get medicine and wine.
Alex held up her charger. “This is not an excuse. Don’t you think I’ll need a phone charger while I’m out of town?”
Marcee snatched it from her and stuffed it in the pocket of her robe.
“That is your backup charger. Your primary one is blue, and I watched you pack it last night. Now, go! Scoot!” She pushed her best friend as gently as she could onto the front porch, herding her down the steps like a reluctant puppy going to the vet.
“I’ll be fine. In fact, some alone time might be what I need to get over this cold. ”
“You keep saying cold. I don’t think it means what you think it means.”
“I don’t have the flu. Look, I’ll check in and stay hydrated. Now, please go!”
Alex pulled her in for a quick hug. “Fine. I’ll be back on Sunday. Get some rest. No exercise!”
“Yes, Mother.”
Once she was finally strapped in, Alex backed out of the driveway and Marcee trudged inside, shivering. It was an unusually cold November, even by North Carolina’s standards, and considering how warm October was, it was no wonder her body couldn’t keep up.
Another text from Remy popped up on her phone and she deleted it. She’d taken the path of least resistance and cowardice, ignoring him as if it would make everything go away or make it somehow easier—even if all she wanted was to have him next to her.
Marcee didn’t want to admit it, but she missed him.
She missed their texts and the heat between them.
The night of the auction had scared her, though.
She’d never felt anything like what was between them, not even with Eli.
He’d been her first everything. Her first boyfriend, the first guy she’d slept with, her first love. He had been her safe haven.
Remy felt like closing her eyes and stepping into an abyss.
It took her longer than usual to get dressed, but once she had on some sweats, tucked into her Uggs, and an oversized hoodie, she was ready to go. She grabbed a beanie on the way out, sliding it over her unwashed hair. Taking a shower that morning was too much effort.
Although there was only one grocery store in Belle Cliff, there was a small mom-and-pop gas station store that had the necessities, and as a bonus, they sold booze. To avoid the day-before-Thanksgiving madness, she was willing to pay the marked-up prices.
There were two old men sitting at a table by the window drinking coffee and shooting the shit when she entered, but aside from them and the cashier, the store was empty.
As she gauged the merits of off-brand cold and flu syrup, the bell over the door jingled and there was a murmur of voices from near the register. Marcee kept her head down, settling on the cherry-flavored kind, when someone cleared their throat behind her.
“Pardon, but I need to reach past you.”
She froze, hand curled around the medicine. She debated if she could walk straight forward without him recognizing her. Probably not. Why had God cursed her with such bad luck? Of all the places.
Marcee stepped to the side, grimacing. “Sure.”
Remy balked, eyes sweeping over her. “Marcee? You’re sick?”
“What gave it away? The red nose or the homeless ensemble?”
He nodded at the cough syrup. “The medication, actually.”
Her cheeks flushed and she hoped he’d pass it off as a fever. “Well, now that we’ve established my poor health, I’m going to let you go about your business. I’ve got some stuffing to purchase and a bottle of wine to charge to my credit card.”
Hastily, he grabbed the same syrup from the shelf. “Wait, I’d really like to talk. You ghosted me after the auction. Can we sit somewhere?” How many times had he asked her to talk and she’d blown him off? She was being a complete and total cowardly asshole, and she knew it.
She was already heading for the aisle over, where she grabbed a box of instant stuffing.
She wasn’t saying she had imagined seeing Remy again after the coat check room, but if she did, it definitely wasn’t while she did a very convincing impression of Frank from Shameless.
Wasn’t that how it always was when you suffered from a recent heartbreak?
Run into your ex and his new girlfriend at the grocery store.
Victim of the worst haircut known to man.
Attend your ten-year class reunion and fall in front of your crush. It was some kind of law of physics.
Remy followed as she did a speed walk to the back of the store and the two racks of wine in stock.
“I’m in no state to go anywhere but home,” Marcee replied, pulling her beanie down further on her forehead. She used to think she was fearless, but the longer she knew Remy, the more that felt like a lie.
Surveying the selection, she forced back a groan. Ugh, why so much Moscato? She’d already gotten the cough syrup. She picked a bottle of Merlot and tucked it under her arm.
Remy’s hand landed on her shoulder, and even in her sickly state, a flutter of anticipation and longing sprang to life, leaving her a little breathless.
“I don’t care where we talk, as long as we do. No funny business, just good old conversation. I’ve got things to say to you, Marcee, and I think we owe it to each other to listen.”
He was right, of course. Even her stuffy head knew it, but she was still a stubborn mule. “I’ll get you sick.”
Of course, he chose that moment to let out an explosive sneeze. Pulling out a wad of tissues from the pocket of his coat, he dabbed at his nose and gave her a pointed look. “I don’t think that’s a concern.”
Marcee didn’t have it in her to put up much fight. Plus, she didn’t think they were in danger of any more sexy interludes while ravaged with the flu.
Cold—it was just a cold.
She sighed. It was time to hash things out, whether she was ready or not.
“Fine. You can follow me to my house. If we’re going to talk, I’m going to be wrapped up like a burrito on my couch.” She marched to the counter, credit card in hand.
“It’s probably not the right time to joke about you taking me home, huh?”
“Not if you have any intention of actually making it there,” she drawled, cutting her eyes at him.
He smiled weakly and she noticed the telltale signs of sickness in the puffy bags under his eyes and the days’ old stubble across his face.
Childishly, it made her feel a little better about her own disheveled appearance.
At the same time, she had the strangest urge to give him a hug, as if it would make everything okay.
“Have a good Thanksgiving, hon!” The woman behind the counter handed her the plastic bag after checking her out, a big smile on her round face.
“Thanks, you too.” To Remy, “I’ll wait outside in my car.”
The house was in decent shape thanks to Alex’s frantic cleaning as she insisted on leaving Marcee in a “clutter-free and healing environment.” As soon as she pulled into the driveway, Marcee raced out of the car and up the front porch steps, not bothering to shut the door all the way as she barged inside.
The least she could do was brush her teeth before their “chat.”
As she scrubbed furiously at her enamel, she tried to remember the last time she was sick.
Years ago, she supposed. She thought there was something about growing up in a big city that hardened your immune system.
Her face was paler than usual and her nose raw and red from the box of tissues she’d gone through.
It was a wonder Remy didn’t take one look and run for the hills.
There was a knock on the door and Freddie Mercury streaked past the bathroom door and into Alex’s bedroom.
“Come on in!” she yelled, then spit toothpaste into the sink.
“Hello?”
She went back in the living room, running a hand over her hair pointlessly. It was gross and there was no helping it. “Hey.”
“Your roommate home?” he asked, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the rack next to the door.
“No. She went to her parents’ house for Thanksgiving.
” At his look, she waved a hand. “I insisted she leave. Trust me, she tried her hardest to stay and mother me.” Marcee was starting to think maybe that was the wrong move.
Having someone to bring her soup and check her temperature might’ve been amazing.
A fresh wave of exhaustion grabbed her, and she sank onto their couch, motioning at the chair for Remy.
If she wasn’t so sick, she imagined she’d be overcome with anxiety at having him in her home.
She supposed she should be grateful, then, because she felt fairly relaxed in his presence.
Then again, it could also be from the knowledge that the last time they saw each other, his tongue was inside her.
Probably not the right thing to think about.
Remy eyed the fireplace, rubbing his hands together. It was chilly. Their heating system was ancient.
“Does that work?” he asked, motioning toward it.
“Yeah, but we haven’t used it yet this winter. Listen, you don’t have to do that.”
He gave her an exasperated look. “Have any wood?”
Somebody’s sense of humor was out of commission. “There might be some in the backyard.”
He nodded and grabbed his coat, putting it back on. “Right then. You stay put and I’ll get us a fire going. Have you taken your medicine yet?”
This was getting far too domestic for two people who hadn’t spent more than a few minutes together, most of which had been fighting. “Not yet,” she replied, struggling to sit up from where she’d sunk into the cushions. “You said you wanted to talk, so let’s talk.”