Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
I refuse to age gracefully; I am going to age like one of those fairytale witches, only growing more powerful & notorious with each passing year.
—From Remy’s Sinister Affirmations deck
Remy
Remy’s leg bounced as she sat at the counter and contemplated the open, empty text bubble on her phone. What had happened to her simple, boring, regimented life?
Sebastian Wheatley, that’s what.
In the past weeks, he’d upended her world, literally charming the pants off her with his devastating trademark grins and seductive ways. A thrill coursed down her spine at the memory of their night together in Miami.
She’d quickly come to recognize that what was seductively potent on the silver screen was even more so in person.
Her liege man was spending the day huddled with Jared at his townhouse rental—Melody joining via Zoom as needed—reviewing logistics for the upcoming premiere and other business matters.
Sebastian would be leaving Tuesday for a few days in Manhattan for the press junket prior to the release of Atlas Unhinged in three short weeks.
He’d offered to bring her to New York—a city she’d always wanted to visit but never seemed to have time—but with the exhaustion of the long last week still fresh in her mind, Remy demurred.
Even so, the idea of seeing the Big Apple through Sebastian’s eyes was tempting.
Worse? The pang of sadness that zapped through her when she thought of her empty house.
A space devoid of Sebastian’s teasing laughter and cooing over their ‘little prince.’ And it was only for three freaking days. She really needed to get a damn grip.
What she also needed was to talk through the riot of emotions that had been coursing through her following their weekend in Miami.
The urge to process out loud, to vent all the crazy permutations and scenarios crashing around in her once cool and logical mind, with people she trusted was rapidly becoming…
necessary. A need she hadn’t experienced since Etta.
And that scared her almost as much as her terrifyingly intense feelings for Sebastian Wheatley.
“Oh, screw it,” she muttered, tapping out a message to the Red Wine Supper Club group chat Lila had created and named.
Remy
SOS. I repeat. RWSC SOS. Sebastian is out for the day until at least after dinner. I have a lovely Cabernet…and a pressing need to vent. Any chance either or both of you are free?
She dropped her phone like it was radioactive.
For most people, it wasn’t a big deal to text friends.
But for Remy? Unprecedented. And…were Lila and Nell really even her friends?
Was she fabricating a reality that didn’t even exist?
Would she mortify herself by reaching out, when those women both had busy lives?
Well, certainly Nell did. Remy wasn’t sure how Lila passed her non-working hours, but she was sure it was doing something more interesting than spending time with Remy.
“What the hell am I doing, Etta?” She rubbed the E on her necklace as she stared at the phone, waiting like a teenager for the dancing dots.
A sharp knock on her door startled her. Remy shrieked and almost fell backwards off the counter stool.
“Open up. You had me at wine,” a disembodied voice called out.
Remy had opened the windows earlier, enjoying the mid-May weather. The birdsong alone had been worth it, but the fresh air on top of it had managed to slightly soothe her frazzled nerves. Hearing her friend’s voice made her smile.
“I’ll be right there, Lila.” Remy smoothed her navy, fitted yoga top, then rolled her eyes at herself. Ninny.
She opened the door and Lila hurried in, holding another bottle and a glass baking dish. “I’d hug you, but I don’t have free hands at the moment. So…” The bubbly nurse leaned in and pressed her cheek to Remy’s. “There. Very cosmopolitan of us.”
Remy just stood there, frozen in the wake of Lila’s warm arrival.
Lila turned in a bit of a circle. “Was that you shrieking? Lord, you’re jumpy. I tell you that all the time.”
You’d be jumpy too if you’d been married to a monster.
“As promised last time, I brought sustenance. Red wine is an amazing foundational element for our club, but we need decent food, too.”
“Right, yes.” Arabella winced, embarrassed that once again she’d invited people over without offering a proper meal. Tasha Remington was surely perched on a heavenly cloud, watching and shaking her head in disappointment at Remy’s lack of manners.
“Did you hear from Nell yet? This is ziti. Ok to heat it up in your oven? Any food allergies? I should have checked.” Lila bustled into the kitchen, depositing the wine next to Remy’s unopened bottle.
Remy opened her mouth, momentarily stunned with the Sebastian-like onslaught of questions and unsure which to answer first. “I—I haven’t looked at my phone since I sent the message. Uh, sure, please use the oven. And, no allergies. Th-thanks for thinking of it.”
“No problem, Doc. I always do meal planning on Sundays, and that usually involves making things I can reheat as leftovers at work during the week.”
Remy nodded like an awkward bobblehead. “Smart.”
On the island, her phone buzzed. She scanned the message. “Nell’s daughter just finished her lacrosse game. She’s on her way. About ten minutes out.”
“Excellent.” Lila straightened, closed the oven with one foot, and spun to face Remy with a bright smile on her face. “Let’s open the vino.”
A half a glass later, Nell was ringing the doorbell. Remy couldn’t help but be astonished that her SOS had actually generated the hoped-for results. That, maybe, after such a long time…she could honestly say she had friends.
“Thank you for coming over,” Remy began, and then her eyes caught on the woman standing behind Nell. She was around Remy’s age, with flawless, deep umber skin tones and a cascade of dark hair, blown out with care.
“I hope you don’t mind my bringing a friend, Remy,” Nell offered shyly, hovering in the doorway.
No matter how much time they spent together at the shelter, Nell was so painfully introverted that she’d practically revert to awkward stranger status each time they saw each other.
“My best friend was watching my youngest—and her goddaughter—play lacrosse. She was intrigued when I told her about the club.”
The woman stepped forward, reaching out a hand.
“Geneva Fox-Reyes. Feel free to call me Gen. All my friends do. I hope it’s ok to crash your party.
Nell said you shot up an SOS flare. Those are my specialty.
But if it makes you uncomfortable, I can hitch an Uber home.
It was definitely presumptuous of me to crash. ”
Good God. This woman was supremely poised and self-confident. Even though she only topped Remy by an inch, she gave off powerful warrior vibes. But there was a warmth and disarming can-do spirit about her that instantly relaxed her.
“The more the merrier, right, Doc?” Lila called out from where she’d flopped on one of Remy’s cozy, overstuffed chairs, Chicane already snuggled happily in her lap.
Remy recovered herself, manners belatedly kicking in. “Of course, it’s ok. Please come in. Welcome.” She stepped to the side, motioning in the direction of the family room.
“Great, thanks.” Geneva smiled warmly at her. “I love your home. This neighborhood is so fabulous with its midcentury Cape Cods. So much character.”
“Uh, thanks,” Remy nodded. “I got lucky.”
“Me too,” chimed Lila, who waved at them from the couch.
“Lila Somerville. Doc’s next-door neighbor and favorite work colleague, even if that freaks her out.
Nice to meet you, Gen. I’d get up, but I don’t want to disturb my buddy.
” She motioned to Chicane, then lifted her glass. “Welcome to the Red Wine Supper Club.”
Geneva bumped shoulders with Nell. “We brought a Tempranillo. I love a good Spanish red.”
“But I’m only having one glass,” Nell added. “Any more than that and I get a migraine. Also, I’m the DD.”
“Are you referring to your stellar rack, of which all women in their right minds are jealous?” Gen teased her friend good-naturedly.
“Designated driver, Geneva. Let’s not talk about my—chest, shall we?” Nell folded her arms over her body in the classic maneuver of a woman hiding her curves.
Gen side hugged her friend. “Sorry, babes. Love you.”
“Love you, too, bestie.” Nell’s face split into a grin. “Even when you’re oversharing with new friends.”
Gen shrugged light-heartedly. “All part of my charm.”
Remy watched this display of friendship with wonder and an ache of sadness. Gen’s easy, confident vibe was evocative of Etta, creating a sense of familiarity and comfort even though they’d just met.
Remy decided Nell needed a heartfelt compliment. She suspected her curvy friend had been fat-shamed about her decadent curves too often. “You’re gorgeous, Nell. I recently heard you described as a Titian beauty.”
The ginger-haired woman blushed to her roots, but wore a small smile that showed her appreciation for the compliment. Remy mentally thanked Sebastian for his innate ability to find the right thing to say—even when he wasn’t in the room.
“Give me a sec. I’ll grab a couple more glasses and the wine opener. And then you three can talk me off the ledge.”
Remy disappeared into the kitchen and caught her breath. In her living room were three women, all hastily arrived to help and support her. And somewhere, a half dozen miles or so away, she had Sebastian.
A smile sprouted in her heart and bloomed across her face.
New friends.
In less than a month, Remy had gone from having zero true girlfriends…to three.