Chapter 64
Chapter Sixty-Four
You are capable of hard things.
—From Remy’s Affirmations for a Badass
Remy
Slowly, Remy came back to herself. She kept her eyes closed, fighting a brief wave of vertigo.
The murmur of low voices filled the room.
Sebastian was holding her hand. She knew the feel of that beautiful sensation by heart.
By a heart the charismatic, funny, irrepressible devil had stolen—almost from the start and despite her every instinct otherwise.
Remy did a self-assessment. Her heart rate had lowered back to its normal beats per minute and, other than that fleeting moment of dizziness, the vertigo and nausea had faded. Her ears also had stopped buzzing.
She knew what happened medically, of course.
Sensed her rapid decompensation into PTSD.
One minute, she and Sebastian were chatting in the backseat of the town car, him teasing her that Chicane would be happier to see him.
The next, a crushing blow, her breath stolen, as she’d read the words aggressively sprayed on her home.
The only home she’d ever owned. The only place she’d ever been completely comfortable. Safe.
Even at the Remingtons’ modest home, there was always the specter of her mother’s rundown section eight apartment looming. Then Doug’s home, the hub of so much pain and fear.
Remy shivered, a tiny sob escaping lips that were thankfully no longer numb. In fact, the overall shock had finally abated, leaving in its wake a riot of painful emotions surging in a way she hadn’t felt since—
“Arabella?”
Sebastian’s tender voice, so rich and beautifully modulated, washed over her. A tear trickled from the corner of her eye down her temple. Then another.
“Angel, can you open your eyes for me?” She could hear the terror leaching into his words.
Remy opened her eyes, immediately landing on Sebastian’s. “Hi,” she croaked out. Clearing her voice, she tried again. “Sebastian. I—I’m better. Promise.” Remy forced herself to produce a small smile, squeezing his hand.
“Oh, thank God.” Sebastian’s eyes dropped closed for a long moment, chin tucking as his body curled forward in relief. “Thank fucking God,” he whispered, now scanning her. “I’m so sorry, Angel. So sorry.”
“You didn’t do it—”
“Bash, give me a minute to check her vitals, ok? Then we can all talk.” Brinder’s faded British accent reappeared in full force, something Arabella knew happened when her boss’s emotions were heightened.
Easing Remy into a seated position, Brinder efficiently took her blood pressure, checked the pulse oximeter, and then listened to her heart.
He nodded, his face conveying all was well. “You gave us quite a scare, Remy.”
“I know. I—”
“No explanations needed.” Brinder smiled warmly, turning his head at a din of voices coming from down the hall.
Now Sebastian broke into a smile as well, sitting lighter, his shoulders not hunched with the weight of worry. “The cavalry has arrived.”
“Who?” Arabella offered quietly, still working to ensure steady breath in and out of her lungs.
“We couldn’t keep them away. Your red wine posse.
Lila apparently lit the bat-wine signal.
” Sebatian’s gaze was tender but his lips lifted in the corners in obvious amusement.
“Grayton groused and did his Army Ranger thing, but Lila wouldn’t take no for an answer.
She may look like a bubbly cheerleader, but that woman is a force to be reckoned with.
You up to visitors?” His smile turned a little sheepish, but so endearing.
“I hope so, because I’m kind of afraid to tell them no. ”
Suddenly, Remy no longer wanted to be in bed. She loathed feeling like an invalid. Or, worse, weak. Because weak women often became prey.
She should know.
“I’m getting up.” It wasn’t a request.
Remy shifted, swinging her legs to the side.
Alarm evident, Sebastian reached for her. “Arabella—”
“Remy.” Brinder cut him off, using a firm, calm tone she knew from personal experience was very effective at work. “Go slow. If you can stand without feeling dizzy, you may go gently into the other room—assisted. Where you will sit”—he raised his brows—“and continue your recovery. Understood?”
Arabella raised her chin a fraction of an inch, her eyes narrowing. That was the moment she knew she was just fine. She wanted to pummel her boss.
Even more so…she was grateful. Two months ago, she’d been largely alone.
Now? She had a fiancé who doted on her—even if that relationship had an unknown, but inevitable expiration date on it.
Which she refused to think about. A boss who’d somehow morphed into a friend.
And a group of women who clearly cared enough to bully their way into Brinder’s condo.
A rush of tears filled her eyes, and Remy blinked to keep them at bay.
She nodded at Brinder, who stepped back.
As soon as he moved, Sebastian slid in next to her, practically shoving his sister’s husband out of the way.
Brinder—who topped Sebastian by at least four inches—stumbled back, jaw dropping comically.
“Never get between my queen and me,” Sebastian announced, taking her elbow with a wink. Behind Brinder, Honor slapped a hand over her laugh, while Brinder just shook his head, chuckling. It was a moment of levity they all desperately needed.
Remy shuffled down the hall, arm tucked in Sebastian’s, with Brinder in the lead, periodically looking over his shoulder.
Remy was surprised he didn’t walk backwards like a tour guide, just to keep tabs on her status.
In the past, she’d likely have been pissed off by it, but now, it was surprisingly touching.
She was carefully, slowly learning the lesson that it was safe to make yourself vulnerable to the right people.
As soon as she emerged into the spacious room, her friends descended on her. Remy was wrapped in one tangled group hug and then individual ones, with Lila going last. The normally gregarious blonde held on tight, whispering, “I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s ok. How’s Truly?”
“Back at her house. She has her best friend with her.”
“Good.” Remy nodded.
“Ok, let’s get you seated,” Honor chimed in, so petite next to her tall husband. Yet, Remy had the immediate impression of them fitting together like puzzle pieces. “This couch is comfortable, but it can’t hold a candle to Couchie.”
Brinder smiled tenderly at his wife, dropping a kiss on her head and taking the sleeping baby from her arms. “Honor loves our couch more than she loves me.”
Honor grinned. “Not at all.” She took Remy’s arm and guided her to the comfy leather. “It’s a tie.”
Sinking onto the couch at her side, it was Sebastian’s turn to laugh.
Lila handed her Chicane, and Remy exhaled, calmer now that she could confirm for herself that he was ok. He chittered at her and she buried her face in his fur, inhaling the soothing hay scent.
As Remy settled herself against Sebastian and cooed at their little prince, Lila, Geneva, and Nell sorted themselves into breakfast room chairs that had been placed in a semi-circle across from the couch.
Honor settled onto one of the club chairs, while Brinder perched on its tufted leather ottoman with Jude in his arms. Grayton hovered nearby, intently listening to a phone call as he leaned against the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched the length of the room.
“We brought wine.” Nell lifted her glass, avoiding eye contact with anyone other than the women she knew.
Before Brinder could get the objection out, she continued smoothly, “For us. It’s sparkling water for you, Remy.
Lila brought your favorite cherry lime from the grocery store.
We’re going to drink wine and you’re going to fill us in. ”
Damn. For an introvert, Nell could command a room like a field general. Hidden talents.
Remy wasn’t sure she was ready to fully explain her reaction to the vandalism. She’d just opened her mouth to deflect their concern—a practiced skill of hers—when the riveted steel door swung open, and another woman strode in, like the hardwood floors were a runway. Or a board room.
Remy’s jaw dropped.
“Holy shit,” Lila breathed. She turned to Gen, adding under her breath, “Just checking something here. Am I drunk from half a glass, or did a nineties supermodel just walk into the room?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Benny Tambeaux chimed, utterly unfazed by the four women staring at her, mouths agape. “I was across the hall when Honor texted me.”
Her gaze landed on Grayton’s and snagged, an electric tension filling the room. It was as if there was an invisible live wire arcing between them.
Benny’s trademark ice blue eyes tore from Grayton, shifting to Remy and Sebastian, softening in sympathy.
“I heard what happened, Bash and Dr. Remington. I’m so sorry for that and for the interruption.
I’ll get out of your hair momentarily. I just wanted to offer my support for anything you might need.
” She nodded at Sebastian. “I know Slash is probably all over this for you, but I’m here if you need anything. ”
Benny scanned the room, eyes landing on everyone except Grayton. She lifted a few delivery bags, placing them on the island. “I wasn’t sure if anyone had an opportunity to eat dinner. I ordered food. It’s the least I can do.”
In the last two days, Remy had attended a premiere with Bash Wheatley, her very recent fiancé. Then her house was vandalized, possibly by a stalker. Then she had her first panic attack in more than a decade. And now a famous model-turned-uber agent stood in the same room.
Remy did another quick grounding exercise, just to be sure she wasn’t disconnected from reality, or even that the last two months weren’t simply a fever dream.
Glued to her side, Sebastian brushed his free hand over the back of hers, which was still laced with his. He pressed a small kiss to her lips. “I love you,” he whispered against them.