Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Real women aren’t perfect—perfect ones aren’t real. Own your messy, tangled self. And be damn proud of it.
—From Remy’s Badass Bitch Affirmations
Remy
Remy knocked—probably too hard—on the bright red door, whimsical stained glass panels running along each side. Fitting for the woman who lived there, even if it was just a rental. It came flying open, scaring the shit out of her. She screamed. Then Lila screamed.
The ortho nurse recovered herself first, slumping against the frame and grabbing her chest with one hand. “Jesus, Remy. You almost made me pee my pants.”
“That’s ok. I nearly crapped mine.” Remy’s heart rate was zooming—whether from the Bash Bomb or the door scare, she wasn’t sure. Probably both.
“You’re the one who was banging on my door like the zombie apocalypse had started!” Lila yelped, eyes flared comically.
They stared at each other and then burst into laughter.
“Oh my god, I so needed that.” Remy wiped at her eyes.
Lila fixed her with a knowing look. “I think I know what this is about.”
“You get three guesses.”
“I only need one.” She cocked a brow. “Bash Wheatley?”
Shocked, Remy exhaled a puff of breath. “How—”
Lila held up a hand, clearly recognizing the confusion on Remy’s face. “I was there today when Honor concocted the carrot.”
“I don’t even want to know what you mean,” Remy sighed out under her breath.
“Wanna come in?”
“Yes? No… Yes. But, I need to get home to Chicane. Truly was over earlier, but it’s been hours.”
“What do you need?”
“I need to process. Can you come over? I’m convening an emergency meeting of the Red Wine Supper Club.”
Remy curled into the comfortable corner of her couch, Chicane snuggled in her arms. A mostly empty glass of Cabernet sat in front of her. The second one she’d consumed in the past forty minutes. Next to it, an empty pizza box was the only evidence of the late dinner she’d ordered for her and Lila.
“You really need to eat better, Doc,” Lila admonished gently, pointing to where their medium pizza once sat. “No dinner last night. Pizza tonight…”
“I hate cooking,” Remy grumbled, grateful for the relatively benign topic. She wasn’t quite ready to face the reality of the deal she’d made with a certain enticing devil.
“Then get a meal service. And, in the future, I’m in charge of Red Wine Supper Club meals.”
“Deal.”
“Deal.” Lila reached over from her perch on one of the two plush armchairs and shook Remy’s hand.
Her doorbell sounded and Lila’s eyes widened. “Is that him?” she whispered.
Remy stood and passed Chicane over to Lila.
“No. I don’t think so. I invited someone else with a nickel in this quarter, so pretty sure it’s her.
Only because when I left Brinder’s, I told Bash I needed one night to think this through—the logistics, the implications, et cetera.
He agreed not to contact me until I text him tomorrow morning. ”
“You have Bash Wheatley’s cell phone number?” Lila practically shrieked. “Fuck me!”
Remy froze halfway to the door, eyes fluttering closed at the combined notions of ‘Bash’ and ‘fucking.’ What was this freakish hold he had on her libido?
The Ring doorbell chimed again, startling her, and she emitted a small squeak.
From the chair, Lila snickered. “You’re a jumpy thing, aren’t you?”
“Who knew doors were so scary?” Remy responded, releasing a quiet chuckle as she opened the door.
“Ok. You have completely captured my curiosity.” Nell Gallagher stood in her doorway, a bottle of Pinot Noir in her hand, the other fidgeting with her pink Lululemon jacket.
“I have no idea what this is about, and I don’t even know if you drink or like wine, but I brought the nectar of the gods.
” She waved the bottle. “I’m assuming this is about the shelter. ”
Remy welcomed her in and did the introductions.
“Small Evangelist world. You’re Nell Gallagher, right?” Lila marveled, quickly recognizing Remy’s new guest as the spouse of one of their medical staff colleagues. “I’d get up, but I don’t think Chicane here wants me to move. I just tried, and he glared at me.”
The women smiled at each other and then Nell ducked her head, blushing furiously as her shyness froze her to the spot. Noticing Nell’s discomfort, Lila infused her voice with warmth the way Remy had seen her do so many times with her patients.
“So you volunteer with Remy at the shelter and you’re married to Nate Gallagher, midwife to the multitudes.
” Lila paused and Remy could practically see the wheels spinning.
“Oh my god, wait a hot damn minute. I just put it together. Why am I so slow? Fucking perimenopause brain fog. Your husband was the midwife who accompanied Honor Wheatley and monitored her pregnancy on the trip to receive her Oscar, right?”
“He prefers the term ‘accoucheur’ because he’s just that fancy.” Nell’s cheeks had calmed to a softer pink, but her nerves were on display as she shifted from foot to foot.
Remy was an admittedly grumpy loner and Nell a painful introvert, yet despite those interpersonal challenges, they worked well together at the shelter. But this may have been too much for Nell, Remy thought guiltily. She likely hadn’t realized there’d be a new face when she agreed to come over.
“Holy shit.” Lila beamed at her and Nell.
“The whole Evangelist world is like six degrees of Kevin Bacon. It’s really nice to meet you, Nell.
I love your gorgeous red hair.” Lila’s warm smile instantly seemed to ease Nell’s awkwardness, the other woman’s shoulders visibly relaxing as she tucked a lock of that stunning copper hair behind one ear.
Jealousy wasn’t an emotion Remy ordinarily felt—unless it was coveting another hospital’s surgical equipment.
But Nell’s hair made her own feel boring.
Remy ran a self-conscious hand over it, cringing at how messy it was after a long day at the shelter.
And her clothes were rumpled, her shirt featuring a splotch of red sauce at the hem courtesy of a close encounter with a toddler at the shelter who’d discovered the joys of flinging food.
Holy shit. She’d been so focused on the marriage ambush, she hadn’t even considered her physical appearance. And Bash Freaking Wheatley saw her looking like this. Fuuuuck.
Nothing to be done about that now, but she wouldn’t make that mistake again when she saw Bash tomorrow.
Tomorrow. When she would see Bash Wheatley. To iron out the details of their fake marriage.
Dear God. How was this her life?
Unaware of Remy’s mental wanderings, Lila had kept up her casual chatter.
Like Nell, Remy became the beneficiary of Lila’s special disarming magic.
Within moments, Remy found herself focusing on the present, relaxing in the normalcy of three women getting to know each other.
Remy’s own discomfort at this impromptu gathering slowly abated.
She’d never had two people over for anything—not her own people, that was. Before, in her previous life, Doug had expected her to wait on him and his cop friends on their poker nights. But no one ever came to see Remy. Not even Etta. He’d isolated her that much.
Remy fingered her E necklace, a soothing habit of long, lonely years. If only it were a magic necklace and she could rub it like a genie’s lamp, bringing Etta back.
If only.
Lila winked at Remy, pulling her out from the cold ice of her past. “Also, I talk a lot. Character flaw. If the nuns couldn’t scare it out of me in Catholic school, nothing was going to work—much to my parents’ chagrin.
Anyhoooo, welcome to the Red Wine Supper Club.
And you came prepared.” Lila motioned to Nell’s wine bottle. “Well done, you. You already fit in.”
“Red Wine Supper Club?” Nell cocked her head, a double-dimpled smile emerging. Only the slight trembling of her lips gave away residual nervousness, Lila’s skill with putting people at ease notwithstanding.
Remy took in Nell’s bashful smile–ugh. Bashful. Remy’s mind was too full of Bash right now.
What would it feel like to be actually full…of him? His cock sliding in her aching channel—
“It’s what we call our get-togethers when we drink wine and talk about all the things.” Remy chimed in before her runaway Bash Thought Train ran her over and pulverized what was left of her once-impressive ability to compartmentalize.
“That’s fabulous. I love it.” Nell grinned at the women. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since last night,” Lila replied with a giggle, her curls bouncing. “Now you can be one of the founding members with us.”
Nell bit her lip, her cheeks as bright as her hair. “That sounds fun.”
“It’s gonna be an experience. Especially tonight,” Remy added wryly. “Let’s get you a glass of wine, then plop yourself on a chair, and we’ll tell you the whole story.”
Literally sitting on the edge of her seat, Nell’s jaw had dropped open about one-quarter into the story.
By the time Remy got to the twenty million dollars part and the marriage, she’d slumped back and was vigorously fanning herself with a magazine from the side table.
Ginger strands of hair flapped in the self-generated breeze.
“Sorry, but you just threw me into a hot flash with all that.”
Remy exchanged knowing glances with Lila as she jumped up to grab her bag. “Hang on a second. Let me get my rechargeable handheld fan.” Remy had offered it to Nell many times before at the shelter.
“Sorry,” Nell blushed, either from the flash or shyness. Or both. It was hard to say. “The flashes always seem to hit me harder when I’m nervous or upset. Or shocked. And you can absolutely color me shocked right now.”
Remy snickered, grateful for the reprieve. Retelling the devil-bargain story hadn’t inured her to its impact.