32. Henri
HENRI
“ T hat’s settled then,” Remington’s stepmother said. “Would you like something to drink? Maybe some canapés?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.” We’d almost reached the house when Remington’s father stepped outside.
Marjorie rushed toward him. “What’s wrong?”
The fact that she knew something was wrong when his face showed a neutral expression and he appeared relaxed showed how deep their connection was.
“Things are moving faster than we anticipated.”
Things? What things?
“With the—” She glanced my way.
“Remington has been open with him.” How the hell did he know that? What had he and Remington talked about?
Marjorie smiled. “Good. I thought he would be.”
“He told me he wasn’t open with anyone.” The words were out before I could stop them. Here they were having some kind of crisis I didn’t fully understand, and I was being ridiculous.
Rather than being annoyed, his father smiled. “He isn’t.”
He didn’t say anymore, and I didn’t have the nerve to ask why he would tell me or how Marjorie had known he would.
“The Landrys?” she asked.
“Yes.”
The Landrys were the family Remington had been maneuvering to bring down, the ones he’d talked to Mr. Carrington about.
“Yes. It appears we need to make a move tonight, so we’ll have to excuse ourselves. I’m so sorry to leave you alone to host.”
The way his eyes filled with love made my chest tighten. That kind of love was what I longed for. Would a man ever look at me like that?
Marjorie touched his face briefly. “It’s all right. Like I told you years ago, I know what I’ve gotten into. Just be careful. Let Remington handle the mission.”
“I’m only meeting with them for advice. I told you I was out of the rougher stuff, and I meant it.”
Their goodbye kiss was achingly sweet, and they were completely unselfconscious about being tender with each other in front of me.
I thought of how Remington had held my hand as we’d walked through New Orleans, how he didn’t care who saw us together.
Did he want what his parents had? I sure as hell did.
“I told Remington we would see that Henri was taken home and well guarded.”
What? Did that mean I wouldn’t see Remington again. What if he… No, I couldn’t think that way. It didn’t matter if I didn’t tell him goodbye. He’d be coming back. Whatever plan he’d devised would succeed, and he would come home to me.