Chapter 14 #3
Remy reached over and grabbed the phone, blanching as she took in his pictures.
Pose after pose with jaw-droppingly beautiful women.
She froze, taking in a fairly recent video of him walking toward turquoise waters hand-in-hand with a blonde in a string bikini, its thong nestled between the two perfect, taut globes of her ass.
Remy’s ass didn’t look like that thirty years ago.
Time surely hadn’t done it any favors, despite her swimming regimen.
Eying the woman’s long ponytail, Remy reached self-consciously for her short, dark brown ponytail.
She tossed the phone back to Lila like it was lava—careful to avoid Chicane, in lop heaven cuddled into Lila’s lap—who caught it effortlessly.
Remy reached for the one medical journal that still arrived in hard copy—sometimes it just felt good to touch actual printed pages—and fanned herself. Why did he pick me?
“Because you’re smart, funny, sexy, accomplished, and a fucking force to be reckoned with, my friend.” Lila pointed the phone at Remy with each supposed attribute, emphasizing her points. “I heard him talk about you yesterday. Let’s just say, he digs you, and I don’t think he was acting.”
Remy didn’t realize she’d spoken that aloud.
“But—but…he—these women—I’m not—” she sputtered, completely incapable of forming a coherent sentence.
“You’re not what, Remy?” Nell lifted her chin.
“I better not hear you say something to put yourself down in comparison to those women.” She pointed a neatly filed nail at the phone.
“I’ve raised four daughters in a troubling time of toxic social media and unrealistic expectations.
I certainly have my failings as a human—hello, debilitating shyness—and I might not have a fancy job, or any job really, but I do try to celebrate women instead of letting them undermine my self-confidence.
“I’ve told my girls and their friends, all of whom are very vulnerable to these highly curated social media personas, that these ‘perfect’ women”—she threw air quotes with her fingers—“are each on their own path. And, I promise that once you remove that flattering filter, the Photoshop, the shiny veneer they spend countless hours creating, the contoured makeup, and whatever else they’re doing to their bodies, they are just. Like.
Us. They struggle with low self-esteem. They look at themselves in the mirror and wonder if they’re enough.
They question if they’ll ever find the kind of love that will knock them on their ass with a person who cherishes them for who they are and not what they look like.
So don’t, don’t compare yourself to anyone, Remy.
You will always lose, because we can never successfully be anyone but ourselves. ”
Nell paused, holding up a finger as she took a sip of her wine.
“Ralph Waldo Emerson said, ‘Insist on yourself; never imitate. Your own gift you can offer with the cumulative force of a whole life’s cultivation, but of the adopted talent of another, you have only an extemporaneous half possession.’ Self Reliance.
Released in 1841 and still true now. Maybe even more so.
I memorized it so I could always have it at the ready for my daughters. And myself.
“So hold your head high like the goddess you are and offer the world your own gifts. This is your time to shine. You’ve earned your stripes and you’re embracing who you are.
And if Bash Wheatley is too self-centered and too shallow to appreciate you, then fuck it.
Fuck him. Dance with your vibrator, drink red wine with your friends, fix people’s broken and worn-out bodies, and most of all, take his fucking twenty million to the damn bank!
” Nell gave a sharp nod and blew her curtain bangs out of her eyes.
Remy sat on the couch, stunned, as silence filled the room.
Nell bit her lip and released it, ducking her head, clearly embarrassed by her impromptu speech. “Sorry…um, you caught me in my passion feels.”
Then Lila started a slow clap, gradually picking up the pace. Remy joined in on a grin, standing up. Lila followed suit. And together, they gave Nell a standing ovation.
“Jayzus, Nell,” Remy said in soul-deep admiration. “Never apologize for that. Hell, I feel like I could run through a freaking brick wall right now. Your daughters are damn lucky.”
“I one billion percent agree.” Lila shifted Chicane in her arms. “Although…I’d just like to point out that I had the talking stick.”
The three members of the Red Wine Supper Club laughed so hard they had trouble catching their breath. Each time a wave of laughter would wane, one of them would begin snickering again and it would launch a new round of giggles.
Sisterhood. It was…glorious.
As they cleaned up later, after much laughter and discussion about everything and nothing, rightness settled within Remy.
She was going to do this fake marriage with Bash and make the best of it, just like she had always done.
Even if nothing more came from her devil’s bargain with him than twenty million desperately needed dollars, for the first time in twenty-six years, she had friends.
And it scared the hell out of her.