Chapter 6 #2
Remy, as a rule, didn’t engage in or tolerate gossip.
But she’d heard Lila herself share with another nurse how difficult her divorce had been.
Remy squelched a pang of something that hit like melancholy.
Lila was one of the nicest, most down-to-earth people Remy had met in a long time.
If she were the type of person to have close friends—which she wasn’t—someone like Lila would definitely make the list.
“I’ll just get out of your hair.” She motioned to Remy’s glass. “Looks like I’ve interrupted your dinner.”
Remy glanced at her stemless wine glass, realizing she’d consumed most of the healthy pour. And perhaps that was the culprit that loosened her tongue enough for the unexpected to fall out of her mouth.
“Not really. So far it’s been a liquid dinner. May I offer you a glass?”
“Dinner of champions,” Lila joked, shuffling awkwardly. “Thank you for the offer, but that’s not necessary.”
Remy was not one for socializing, and she hadn’t made a new friend in a very long time.
Intentionally. Brinder was probably the closest to it, and it would still be a massive stretch to use the term.
Still…some company might be nice. Maybe it would take her mind off…
all of it. The past. Her frustrations at work.
Sebastian Wheatley.
A chittering, clicking sound over her shoulder told her Chicane was tired of being ignored. Bossy little fellow. Remy smiled fondly.
“Is that Chicane?” Lila looked past her shoulder toward the sound.
“The one and only.” Remy wondered if this was what proud parents felt like? In her estimation, Chicane was smarter and more loving than most humans Remy had met.
“What a cutie,” Lila smiled, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Makes me miss my dog.”
If Remy were a different kind of person, she might have probed a bit. But that wasn’t her style. She wasn’t one to dig into people’s lives, just as she refused to let anyone dig into hers, lest they find things better left unexcavated.
“Want to meet him?”
“Oh, Dr. Remington, that’s really kind, but I’m sure you’re exhausted. You don’t need to entertain your neighbor.”
Remy shifted the package to the hallway console table.
Shocking herself, she repeated the invitation.
“Call me Remy, please. And seriously. Do you want to come in? You aren’t just a neighbor, you’re a—” Remy halted, not sure how to characterize what Lila was to her.
Neighbor didn’t seem right. But friend wasn’t accurate either.
Co-worker just seemed cold, and Remy sensed Lila could use some warmth.
Whatever. Not everything needed to be defined.
“You’re welcome to come in,” she finished lamely, managing to avoid describing things she was too physically and emotionally tired to classify.
“Do you like red wine? I can pour you a glass and introduce you to the man in my life.”
Why had she said that? Who was this woman and what had happened to Remy? She blamed the wine and her hollow stomach.
Lila tucked an errant blonde curl into her ponytail, indecision etched on her face. “Are you sure?”
“I never say things I don’t mean, Lila. Come in.”
The women met gazes and Lila offered a shy smile.
Surely, somewhere inside, Lila must be wondering why Darth Vadress was emitting friendly overtures.
As a longtime colleague, Lila had to be well aware of Remy’s intentionally reserved temperament and reputation for unsociable behavior.
The exhausting compassion and warmth Remy could summon was typically reserved for her patients only.
Tongue loosened, Remy attempted a smile, praying it didn’t come across as a creepy grimace. It wasn’t an expression she often used, so she was probably rusty. “Please, a little company sounds lovely.” She shifted out of the doorway and motioned to the interior of her home.
Thankfully, Lila didn’t seem freaked out by Remy’s attempt at a smile and random neighborly gesture.
Instead, she returned the smile and stepped inside, tucking that wayward curl again.
Remy considered Lila’s long hair—curly, blonde, and nothing like Remy’s own poker straight dark hair.
Fleetingly, she thought about Lucia’s ravings about Bash’s hair and wondered what his hair would feel like sliding through her fingers.
Jayzuz, she must be semi-drunk.
She realized Lila was still standing in the entryway and choked out an embarrassed laugh-cough. “Sorry, Lila. Clearly I’m a shitty hostess and not used to guests.”
Lila’s broad smile put Remy instantly at ease. No wonder Lila’s patients loved her. She had a magical way about her. “Not at all, Dr. Remington, I—”
“Remy,” she reiterated. “Please. Or Arabella. Either is fine.”
What alternate universe was she in today? Absolutely no one had called her Arabella since…
No, she admonished herself internally with fierce conviction. Definitely not going there.
“Um, ok. How about I call you Doc? That feels right. If you don’t mind.”
“Sure, yep. That works. Been called that before. Also been called worse.” She laughed self-consciously.
Lord, could Remy be any more graceless? If Tasha Remington could see her now, she’d be disappointed in Remy’s manners. Summoning the greatest lady she’d ever known, Remy attempted to banish her inept initial attempt at a welcoming manner.
“Now, before you meet Chicane, may I pour you a glass?”
“Yes, please. Thank you…Doc.” Another warm smile from Lila.
“Red ok? I only have Cabernet Sauvignon. It’s my preference.”
“Red is great. Syrah is my favorite, but any good red works. I’ll drink white, but it doesn’t really do it for me.”
“Same. I’d never yuck anyone’s yum, but I always say life is too short for white wine. Green grapes generally aren’t my jam, though Prosecco can hit the spot.”
“Yes—exactly!” Lila threw her head back and laughed, the curls in her ponytail bouncing. “And sometimes a crisp Chardonnay works.”
The women smiled at each other, and Remy managed not to look away.
Surprisingly relaxed, she filled a glass for Lila, realizing as she lifted the lighter-than-expected bottle that her own pour had actually been two-glasses worth. Half a bottle.
Ooops.
“Here you go. Cheers, Lila.” They tapped glasses.
“Cheers, Doc.”
Smiling down into his activity pen, Lila cooed over Chicane.
“Have you ever interacted with a lop before?”
“No, I’m a lop virgin.” Lila slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Sorry! That was—”
“Hilarious.” Remy smiled, this one actually feeling natural, and not creepy like earlier.
Or bizarrely wide like Bash’s earlier today.
Stop thinking of him! “That was hilarious, Lila. Don’t be embarrassed.
” She smiled again. Damn. She was getting good at that.
And possibly getting a teensy bit tipsy.
She continued, “The best way to greet a lop is to get on his level. Do you mind sitting on the floor so he can see you and smell you, but at eye level, which is less threatening.”
Lila immediately sat cross legged on the floor.
“Good. Now, here’s some treats. Put them by him and he’ll come over closer. He’s a slut for these, so he should literally be eating out of your hands in no time.”
Lila placed the pellets gently in his pen. “Outstanding. Virgins and sluts. Not what I was expecting when I came over to drop off your package.”
An unexpected—and surprisingly welcome—laugh burst from Remy.
“Sorry! I’m so sorry.” Lila placed the hand that wasn’t holding Chicane’s treats over her lips, as if to contain any other verbal spillage. “Not even three sips of wine and my filter has evaporated,” she added behind her hand.
“No apologies.” Remy was stunned to find herself full-stop grinning.
What magic did Lila Somerville have to pull three authentic smiles from her in under ten minutes when Remy couldn’t remember the last time she had truly done so from the heart?
Clearing her throat past a lump of something or other that she wasn’t emotionally able or willing to name, Remy nodded approvingly.
“Now, speak softly and let him come to you when he’s ready. ”
Lila whispered soft words of affection and encouragement to Chicane. Within minutes, he hopped over, looking up at Lila with his sweet, affectionate eyes.
“See if he’ll eat from your hand.”
Lila complied, and it wasn’t long before Chicane was contentedly eating pellets from her palm. “Look at Chicane. He’s already comfortable with you. Try petting him on top of his head, very gently. He’s not particularly skittish, but it’s always good to go slow.”
Lila gazed in adoration at Remy’s fur baby as she rubbed her index finger on his head and behind his ears. “He’s so sweet. Is he always this placid?”
Remy chuckled. “No. In fact, just before you rang the bell, he had the lop zoomies.”
“Oh my,” Lila laughed, feeding Chicane another pellet and sipping her wine. “I have personally experienced hyper black lab zoomies, so I’m sure it’s entertaining.”
“Very much so.” Remy regarded Lila over her almost-empty wine glass.
“Ok. I think you’re ready for the best part.
” She motioned to the couch, wincing at the discarded bra dangling off the arm before scurrying over to grab it and toss it down the hall toward her bedroom.
“Take a seat and I’ll bring him to you.”
Soon Lila was cuddling with Chicane, burying her face in the decadent fur just as Remy loved doing.
“This is the best part,” Lila sighed. “He’s just perfect.”
“Not always,” Remy replied with a wry grin—look at how good she was getting at that. “He can be a stinker. But most of the time he’s pure cuddlebug.”
“You should sneak him into work.”
Lila winked at her, and Remy laughed again. “Not sure Brinder Desai would appreciate it.”
“No, Brinder absolutely wouldn’t.” Lila’s eyes filled with unshed tears. “Seeing him always makes me miss my baby brother.”