11. Remy
Rhea’s face is dry by the time she steps out onto the church’s stone stairs with me a few moments later. She looks sad, but also somehow relieved, as if she’s just grateful to have made it through the last few hours. I certainly understand that.
Pretending to care about a man who didn’t give a damn about a single person beyond himself is as mentally taxing as it is physically, and I’m ready to get out of the public eye. Some of the crowd has dissipated by the time I step outside, and even more have left by the time Rhea joins me, but it doesn’t take long for the procession to begin again as people come to tell us what a beautiful service we pulled together or to offer their condolences.
“I’m going to punch the next person who tells us that the service was lovely,” I grumble loudly enough for Rhea to hear, prompting a cross between a giggle and a snort to escape her.
I’m already feeling murderous by the time Wes turns up with Dimitri and Michael close behind. I consider pulling Rhea after me back into the church, but my desire to go back in there is even less than my desire to deal with our annoying-ass illegitimate brother.
I choose wrong, and Wes makes that clear when he pulls Rhea into a hug and catches my eye over her shoulder, the ever-present smirk on his lips deepening as I glare at him. He wipes it clean quickly when Rhea pulls away and takes a step back to fix him with a small smile. “The service was lovely.” He tells her.
Fuck. If I had any doubts about him being related to us, that clears them up. He knows how to piss me off like it’s his job— the way only family can do.
Rhea chuckles, glancing at me from the corner of her eye, and smooths her hair. “I’ll pass the message along to the one who organized it. I like event planning, but this,” she gestures to the doors behind us, boxed in by two gigantic floral arrangements. “This isn’t my cup of tea.”
“Of course not.” Wes nods aggressively. “I mean, who wants to plan funerals for a living? It’s one of the darkest professions I can think of.”
I don’t bother hiding the laugh that his words draw out of me. “I can think of worse.” I cross my arms, glancing at Dimitri knowingly. “It’s getting late. We should really get back to the house before Elaine gets upset that we’re late for dinner.”
“Remy,” Rhea scolds me. “I think Elaine will understand, today of all days, if we don’t make it in time for dinner. I am, however, pretty drained, so we should be going soon.”
“You’re right,” I concede, “Elaine understands our obligations, but we’d best get going anyway.” I fix her with a pointed look that she accepts with no further objections… until she turns to Wes.
“You should come for dinner. It would be rude of us to send you all the way back to the states without having you as our guest.”
“I’d love to!” Wes’ response comes so quickly, it’s like he planned for Rhea to invite him. He probably did.
“That’s a nice thought, but I’m sure Wes has a flight to catch.” I deadpan. “Isn’t that right, Wes?”
“Oh, no. The perks of flying private.” He laughs, his dark hair bouncing obnoxiously as if he’s telling some grand joke that requires his whole body to get into the gesture. His eyes fix on me when his face stills. “I can leave whenever I want.”