Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fear doesn’t stand a chance when she’s in the room.
—From Remy’s Affirmations for a Badass
Remy
Sebastian laced his fingers through hers and pulled Remy back to the living room.
But not for what she expected.
Instead of picking up where they left off, except in a more comfortable location, he gathered up Chicane under his other arm and guided the three of them to the couch. Where he proceeded to…talk logistics.
Remy wasn’t sure what to make of it. On one hand, she appreciated his restraint and respect for her, as well as the need to iron out some of the specifics of their…arrangement.
The other hand? It very much wanted to be wrapped around Sebastian’s cock, preferably while his hands roamed all over her.
Remy sneaked a quick look. He appeared to be on the mediums. She couldn’t stop the snicker.
“What? What was that for? Do I have pizza sauce on me?” Sebastian looked down at his shirt.
“No, no.” Remy held up her hands. “I just had a little internal joke and it made me laugh.”
“Oh, those are the best.” Sebastian nodded approvingly. “You sure it wasn’t at my expense?”
“Nope. Just an F1 joke.”
Sebastian cocked his head, a flirty smile dancing across his face. “A filthy F1 joke?”
“Maaaaybe.” Remy was astonished at how easily she slid into teasing with him.
“Ha! You love a dirty sport, and now you won’t be able to watch a race without hearing my voice in your head.
” Sebastian unleashed a villainous laugh—he really was a natural actor—and Remy cast a quick glance at Chicane, worried he might freak out at the intimidating sound.
But her bunny simply chittered away, clearly as entertained by Sebastian as she was.
“The idea of your voice in my head is appalling.” Remy shook her head, trying to get used to the sensation of a natural smile on her lips. To the pleasant comfort of Sebastian’s company.
Other than her time with Etta and Tasha, Remy had never experienced a happy house. Could she be so lucky that perhaps this bonkers arrangement would bring some genuine, if short-term, happiness?
“I can just picture it. You’re in surgery, and you’re all tunnel visioned, doing your thing, and then you hear—in the world’s sexiest voice, of course—‘Outstanding work with the scalpel, Scrub Angel. Your ass looks amazing in those scrubs, by the way. Also, your bunny loves me more than he loves you. It’s my…
animal magnetism. Which reminds me…where did the rabbit go for a trim? The hare dressers.’”
Remy barked out a laugh. “Oh my god, Sebastian. The idea of your stream of consciousness in my head at any point, much less a surgery, is truly…terrifying.”
“Fabulous,” Sebastian said at the same time.
For long moments, they just grinned at each other, chuckling periodically. It was, in fact, one of the sexiest, happiest moments of her life.
Please let this be genuine. Let this not be Sebastian acting—a means to achieving his most prized end.
Her smile fell at the notion of Sebastian faking his attraction to her.
Watching her, Sebastian scooted closer, concern etched across his face. He handed her Chicane, somehow knowing she needed the lop’s soft, comforting weight. “What was that, my queen?”
“Nothing. Just—nothing.”
“Non, non, non, ma reine. I do not believe you,” Sebastian continued with what sounded like an on-point French accent. “Veuillez expliquer.”
“I don’t even know what you just said.” Remy managed a small smile.
“I asked you to explain, please.”
“Do you speak French?”
“Passably. I’ve picked it up here and there. Learned a bit for a role. Had a French girlfriend for a while.” He shrugged. “I’m a sponge. I absorb things. Now stop deflecting.”
“Ah.” Remy nodded, acutely aware of the pit in her stomach at the idea of a sultry, young French girlfriend. Well, that wasn’t at all intimidating, was it?
“So… are you going to answer my question, my queen?”
“No.” Remy really didn’t want to explain her thoughts. Didn’t want to hurt his feelings by accusing him of not being genuine. And—most of all—didn’t want to admit her own vulnerability. Vulnerable people became hurt people.
Sebastian moved even closer, tracing the pattern on her sleeve with a forefinger that was as ridiculously tantalizing as the rest of him.
Was anything wrong with this guy? Other than his penchant for shallow relationships with much-younger women, of course.
“Say it, Arabella,” he whispered, staring deep into her eyes. “What are you thinking? You have this play of emotions across your face, and I can’t read you. Just…tell me. If we’re going to do this, we have to have a degree of trust and openness.”
“That,” she scraped out, her throat suddenly feeling as raw as her emotions. “That is what I can’t stop thinking about. When we were laughing and joking before, it seemed so natural, so real.”
Remy paused, filling her lungs with much-needed air, then slowly releasing it.
“Sebastian, you must have noticed that my life isn’t…
filled with people. I don’t trust easily.
I have a—a hard time letting people into my life.
But I’ve let you in, because there’s a greater good in it for both of us.
And even though our marriage will be fake, I need us to be authentic with each other.
When I’m laughing with you or…or kissing you…
or whatever…I need to know that it’s real.
That’s it’s not just you playacting to get yourself through a year with me so you get your dream role.
And if it’s not real, I need you to stop.
To not—to not make me like you.” Or love you.
“Because I’m not sure I can bear getting hurt that deeply. ” Again.
Remy sniffled, lifting Chicane and burying her face in his fur until she regained her composure.
Sebastian was quiet for an exceedingly long time, the only sound the hum of her refrigerator-slash-hot-flash freezer. Then, slowly, he reached up with the hand that had been resting on her arm—she’d forgotten it was there, it felt so natural—and caressed her face with the tips of his fingers.
“My beautiful queen. Someday I want you to tell me who hurt you so badly.” He held up a finger on the other hand as she started to interrupt. “But I know that’s a conversation for another day.”
He dropped his hand, lacing it with hers front to back, and then rested their joined hands on Chicane, who purred in satisfaction.
“My job is to act. And when I’m off the clock, so to speak, I’m not an actor.
I’m just…me. I have no desire to live a pretense, which is probably why all my relationships have failed.
It’s one thing to put on a front for the public.
They don’t get to see the real me anyway.
But in here”—he motioned around the room with his free hand—“and in here”—he pointed to his chest—“I have to be true to me. And, Arabella, when I laugh with you, when I tease you, when I cuddle Chicane, when I bathe you in kisses…” His eyes roamed across her face, making her heart do crazy things.
“That’s me. The real Sebastian. And not a lot of people get to see that.
But I trust you. I have from the start. Maybe that’s why you were in my head from the get-go.
Because I recognized authenticity. And that’s hard to come by in my business. ”
Remy couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, her eyes filling with tears as she tucked her chin against her chest. How did he know exactly what she needed to hear? How did he know her so well already? It was frightening. And frighteningly wonderful.
“I think it’s time for some vows,” he whispered, lifting their clasped hands to his chest.
She followed the movement, then lifted her eyes higher to land on the soothing haven of the dark brown warmth of his gaze.
“I promise, Arabella Remington, to be true to you for the duration of our time together. To be faithful. To be honest, with you and with myself. To be my authentic self, even when I’m scared you won’t like my scattered brain.
To be a good partner for you. To respect you and honor the badass Scrub Angel you are.
I promise to care for Chicane like the bunny prince he is.
I promise to make you laugh. To rub your feet after long OR days. And to watch your dirty F1 smut.”
Remy laughed softly, tears clogging her throat.
“I vow to be your friend, and, if you want it, your lover. Arabella Remington, I pledge all this to you, from this day forward, until we decide to change things.”
She inhaled a shaky breath and then moved their hands from his chest to hers, right above the steady beating of her heart.
“I promise, Sebastian Wheatley, to honor you and your innate goodness for the duration of our time together. I promise to be faithful to you. To be honest with you, and with myself—even when I don’t like what I see inside me.
I promise to laugh at your jokes and teach you anything about F1 you want to know… as long as it’s not during a race.”
Sebastian chuckled softly.
“I promise to support you in your career and celebrate your wins. I promise to share my bunny. Not sure I have any choice in that, the little traitor.” She laughed softly and Chicane chittered his agreement.
“I vow to be your authentic friend and your,” her voice caught, “your lover, if we want it. Sebastian Wheatley, I pledge all this to you, from this day forward, until we—until we decide to change things.”
Sebastian cleared his throat and then broke into a smile so wide and genuine her heart leapt with joy.
“Well, my queen. Now that we’ve said our vows, there’s just one more thing to make it official.
” He gently gathered her in his arms, tilting up her chin with his knuckle. “I will now kiss my bride.”