Chapter 48 Remy
Chapter forty-eight
Remy
Inhaling deeply, I put the truck back in drive.
“Why don’t you google a dog washing station?” I say quietly.
I rub at my chest, but the ache doesn’t fade. Everything I think and do with Christianna feels wrong.
Me. The guy who always knows how to handle things. And Erik, whose emotional IQ usually ranks somewhere near pudding, is suddenly ahead of me.
Fuck. Now I’m running down my best friend.
I pull into a parking spot, grab the back of my neck, and turn to my friend
“I don’t want to lose her, and I feel like everything I do pushes her farther away.” I shake my head. “The girl who was going to marry me, who loved singing, she’s changed. She’s grown up. Life hit her over and over. How am I supposed to relate to that?”
Erik studies me for a long moment.
“You’re treating this like a singular problem,” he says. “It isn’t. It’s both of us.” His voice is matter-of-fact. “We have different strengths. Both will matter to her.”
He continues calmly. “I can give voice to her pain so it can be released. You can hold her while she cries.” He pauses. “I can hear and feel emotion, but I don’t… relate to it well.”
I glance back at the dogs, curled together. “You relate better than you think. You just have to care about the person.”
He meets my gaze. “I care about you. And I care about Christianna.” His expression doesn’t waver. “I think the Dark Angel has been playing me her music all this time. She resonates with me.” A brief pause. “The same way she does with you. Just in a different key.”
“Erik,” I say carefully. “I want a relationship with her. I want to know her. Be there for her.”
He doesn’t blink. “Yes. As do I.”
“I don’t think you understand,” I say. “I want to court her. If she’ll have me.”
He nods, as if I’ve finally caught up. “Yes. Between the two of us, we would be ideal for her.” He studies me. “How do you not see this?”
I stare at him. “Because relationships are typically between one man and one woman.”
“Pfft.” The sound is sharp, dismissive. “Limited thinking.” He waves a hand. “People would be much happier if they stopped bowing to societal constraints.”
He leans back slightly, thoughtful. “She is complex. Singular. Each of us would meet different emotional needs. And frankly, I would be a poor solo partner.”
His eyes meet mine again, unflinching.
“Between the two of us, we would make one good partner.”