18. Claire
“What the ever-loving fuck was that?” Rhea demands, blinking into the space Wes has just vacated. She looks scandalized—not something that I see on her often.
I can feel the weight of Elaine’s eyes on the back of my neck and have to suppress a shudder at the feeling of vulnerability that passes over me. Instead of letting myself shudder, I roll my shoulders. “I think Wes was feeling a bit… emasculated.”
“But Dimitri?” She turns her eyes to Remy, demanding an explanation. I don’t know how he managed to keep all of this from her for as long as he did—he deserves a medal for it, honestly. Because in the space of the week that I’ve been in on his sordid secrets, we’ve pushed the envelope too far. Rhea is brilliant and airy and fierce and gentle, but she’s not stupid. We won’t continue to get away with leaving her out of the loop, and I intend to tell Remy that as soon as I get him alone, which I really need to do.
“I’m sorry, Rhea.” I huff, clutching my stomach and crinkling my face. “I’m not feeling well. Do you mind if I go back to my room?”
Her eyes track to mine, her mouth open like she’s about to say something, but then she softens. “Of course.”
“I’ll help you upstairs.” Remy offers, stepping forward to loop his arm through mine. I don’t know if he’s just attempting to be chivalrous or if he caught the look of desperation I threw him over his sister’s shoulder.
“I’m giving you a pass because Claire is hurt,” Rhea says seriously. “But I want answers. So, get your story straight when you’re upstairs together and then be prepared to spill it all next time I ask.”
I fight the laugh that bubbles in my throat—it’s not funny, but I am feeling wildly untethered. I’ve never drank so much champagne, and the combination of that with the oh-so-euphoric feeling of flaunting myself as unbroken before Wes has me uninhibited.
As soon as we clear the hall, I push Remy against the wall and cover my hand with his mouth. I’m not even sure why, other than the urgency of the matter.
His eyes are molten, confused, but very clearly willing to go wherever I’ll take him. “Wes stole a knife.” I tell him. “When he stood up, he slipped it into his coat pocket.”
He stares at me for a second, like he’s wondering whether to believe me or maybe mourning the moment that he thought was about to pass. “Let’s hurry then.” He practically pulls me in the direction of the stairs, but I shake out of his grasp.
“I’m fine. Go stop him.”
His hesitation is brief, and then he nods, spinning on his heel and stalking fast through the living room at a pace that’s just a touch more than casual, but not as suspicious as a full-out sprint. He shuts the door softly, and once he’s gone, I poke my head back in the dining room. “Thank you for dinner, Elaine.” I tell her.
She looks startled when I call her name. By the time her eyes meet mine, the smile in place feels insincere.
“Would you like dessert? I can bring you a plate?”
“Oh, no.” I laugh. “I’m afraid I’m stuffed. Rhea?”
Rhea looks up to me from where she’s gathering the discarded linens, her agitation obvious on her face. We don’t do this to each other. We don’t fight, we don’t lie, we don’t keep secrets other than the things from our pasts that we never divulged to one another. But she has been my lifeline, my everything these last three years. I was so broken when we met, and she helped heal me. Someone has tried to break me again—maybe even the universe this time—and if I’m going to get past it, I need to come clean.
Half of the story is not mine to tell. I won’t betray Remy’s trust, even though Rhea is my priority. I can’t be the reason she has to question her entire life. I can’t be the reason he has to worry about how she will move forward. I’ll support him if he decides to divulge the truth about their family business and the Boudreaux’s wicked legacy, but until he does, I’ll give her my truth.
“I need to talk to you.”
The slight narrowing of her eyes hurts a little, but her suspicion isn’t unfounded. She sighs, dropping the linens on the table and then cracks a smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”
When she reaches my side, she nudges me gently in the ribs. Laughing, we leave Elaine with her dark eyes following us… but not before I nick my champagne off the table. I’m going to need it.
Rhea turns toward the staircase, but I shake my head and pull her toward the back door. I don’t want to be in my room. It’s beautiful, comfortable, clean. But it’s started to feel like a cage.
“Where are we going?” She asks, suspicion coloring her tone as I pull her outside, away from the patio and in the direction of the trees. “I know you’re annoyed with me, Claire, but you don’t have to kill me.”
I laugh hard enough that it actually does hurt my stomach. The pain is dulled by the buzzy feeling of the alcohol in my veins, but I take it as a sign to slow down a little. The last thing I need to do is re-injure myself and end up stuck in that damn bed again. Not now that I feel more alive than I have in… I don’t know how long.
“I thought you were the one who said you wanted to go hiking?”
“Oh, the itinerary went out the window after—”
“After I got myself kidnapped?” I chuckle.
Saying it with such a lightheartedness feels good. It’s all so fucking heavy. Now that I feel it lifting off my shoulders just a little, I want to keep laughing it off. Every time I do, the burden eases just a little and I regain some control of the breath in my chest. And God does this prosecco help. It feels like the bubbles are in my veins, like I can float away from all of it.
“Claire, that’s not—”
“It’s what happened.” I laugh. “Come on, we’re almost there.”
Leaving the light behind us, I pull her toward the boardwalk. When we step under the canopy of trees, the night gets inky dark, and every sound seems amplified by the echoing treetops arching high overhead. I don’t recognize all of the sounds, though I can certainly hear the crickets screaming their nighttime symphony.
“I haven’t been this way in ages.” Rhea says, stepping closer to me as we walk side-by-side.
We could have sat on the porch, but I’m craving the freedom of the open ocean. Watching it from a distance wouldn’t give me the solace I need to get through this, and if we’d walked along the shore, I wouldn’t be able to hold the composure Rhea deserves. I can’t fall apart, because if I do, she will follow me, and then I’ll only feel worse about it.
When the path opens ahead of us, I see that my assessment was correct. The moon is full and low, pale but bright enough to illuminate the sky and the water. It drives away the darkness, the feeling of imprisonment, the heaviness in my heart.
“Nice boat.” Rhea says, glancing at me from the corner of her eye. Her lips are creeping into a mischievous grin. “Tell me he keeps a key on here.”
“I don’t know.” I laugh. “Can you even drive a boat?”
“Of course I can drive a boat.” She scoffs, like that’s the thing you learn to do after you learn to walk but before you begin reciting your ABC’s.
“Of course you can.” I agree with a grin.
Because there’s nothing she can’t do.