Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
No wonder Sarah hated Miami.
Remy had been back for four weeks and was already considering putting their home on the market.
What the hell had made him choose a city where just driving home from work required the aggression of an Indy car driver and was guaranteed to elevate his blood pressure?
He hung his keys on a hook in the kitchen as he entered their apartment.
A hook Sarah had installed, now that he thought about it.
It was shaped like a daisy with a ladybug on one petal.
Since he’d returned from Tennessee, he’d noticed a lot of stuff she’d taken care of in the past two years.
These days, his eyes were open to all the ways he’d put his head in the sand for too damn long.
Knowing Erin had shown him how narrow his world had become.
Meeting her had been like an electric shock to the senses, zinging him alive after he’d walked through too much of his life in a daze.
He missed her so badly he ached with it. Too bad he hadn’t been able to give her the kind of happiness she deserved. But each day, he was trying to do better. Be better.
He’d taken Sarah back to Louisiana the weekend before to visit her mother’s grave.
For the first time, it hadn’t ripped his heart out.
His counselor had suggested it might be a good thing to do.
And it had been really…important. They’d brought flowers and arranged the blooms on the grave site in the rough outline of Liv’s cypress tree painting.
Remy had photographed it and put the photo with the others—his original photo of the tree and Liv’s painting of the photo.
He’d felt a new sense of peace ever since he’d been able to say goodbye in a way that was meaningful.
Permanent.
Now, laying his jacket over a kitchen chair, he switched on a light above the stove and pulled out a pan to make dinner.
That was one of the ways he was living in the here and now—he’d divided cooking duties with his daughter.
His nights sucked more—obviously—but he was proud to have expanded his repertoire to include poached eggs.
He could grill salmon. And there’d been a time when he did not burn a roast, although that dish was far from mastered.
Tonight he would Cajun fry some speckled trout his brother had overnighted him, packed in ice.
Fresh caught in bayou waters, the fish was an old favorite, the recipe something he could make in his sleep. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t Cajun fry.
When he’d first returned from Tennessee, he’d been primed to return to his therapist and work harder to make progress. Get through those grief stages. Find a way to be a better father and maybe—just maybe—be the kind of man who wouldn’t hurt Erin Finley again.
But it had been slower than he’d hoped. His “one step forward, two steps back” theory seemed like a big fat joke these days.
At first, he’d stepped so far back he’d actually had a day where he’d been speechless at work.
Stuck in a meeting and unable to pull his thoughts together to form a coherent sentence.
But then, the guys in the meeting hadn’t known that discussing home renovations would put him over the edge.
Just the words “air nail compressor” damn near sent him into a meltdown with missing Erin.
Things had gotten better recently. Especially after the visit to Liv’s grave. He could feel new hope brewing inside him.
His phone rang while he seasoned the fish.
“Armand,” he answered, looking at the caller ID. “You are the hero of the dinner table tonight. I’m cooking the trout as we speak.”
Sarah would be home from graduation rehearsal any minute. Mathilda had driven her and—bless that girl—she was helping Sarah with some application essays for late registration.
His daughter had applied to some schools in Tennessee and a few in Louisiana, inspiring Lucas to send out a few last-minute applications himself.
The kid was obviously crazy about Sarah, and who could blame him?
Remy had been keeping a close eye on that situation, but he had to admit, the guy made Sarah smile a lot.
Hard to begrudge her the daily Skype time with Lucas when the boy made his girl laugh so often.
“I only sent the fish to make you come home. The bayou, she misses you.” Armand was the most colorful net maker in all of Houma, his stories as prized as his good knots.
“I heard her calling out for you while I reeled in the trout, and I said I would try to lure you back with the taste of the delicacies you love best.”
“You’re not lying about that part anyway.” Remy coated the trout in black pepper and red pepper mixed together. “All the rest of your lines might work on the tourists, but not on me.”
“That’s because you gave your heart away to the gods of money and you forgot about the sea, you old dog.” Armand must be approaching the dance hall because the sound of accordion music swelled until Remy could almost see the skirts swaying and the old-timers sipping their one beer for the night.
Remy turned down the heat under the pan. “Did you put Mom on the phone while I wasn’t looking? Cuz you sound just like her, brother man.”
“Funny how the parents get smarter as we get older, no?” Armand chuckled before he called out greetings. “Enjoy the trout, Remigius. I keep your boat ready.”
Remy hung up the phone, surprised how much the last bit had gotten to him—a whole lot more than accusations of selling out to money.
I keep your boat ready.
It made him wish he’d gone fishing that day Erin had given him directions to a nearby river. The place where she’d dropped a line as a girl. For that matter, why hadn’t he taken her with him to see the water again?
Maybe frying the fish made him nostalgic.
Or maybe it was that old zydeco tune, “Quelle étoile,” that had him thinking about things he hadn’t shared with Erin.
He’d bet she’d love to dance to “Quelle étoile” in a sweaty dance hall.
Or fish for speckled trout. Hadn’t she said she wished he’d done something more romantic than install a home security system?
A rustling outside the door warned him Sarah was home a second before her key turned in the lock.
“Hey, Dad,” she called, cheery but still not as happy as she’d been a few weeks ago. “Something smells yummy.”
She missed Lucas, of course, but he knew for a fact she also missed Erin and all the Finleys. She’d grown deeper roots in Heartache in a few weeks’ time than she’d put down in Florida in two years.
“We got a treat from your uncle Armand.” He lifted the pan to show her.
“Awesome. Too bad there are no lemon-berry cupcakes for dessert.” She hung up her keys on the daisy hook and moved to set the table. “I heard Ally’s Uncle Mack bought a spot for a restaurant in Heartache, by the way. There will be lots of cupcakes, I’ll bet.”
As if he didn’t miss the place enough on his own, he had Sarah to help him remember how much he was missing.
He tried to recall what his counselor said about doing the hard work.
If he put in the hours of dealing with the setbacks, there was no reason he couldn’t emerge happy and whole.
Ready to start over. If nothing else, he could always do like Scott Finley, who’d poured his heart out on six chalkboards when he couldn’t figure out how to make Bethany happy. At least the guy had shown he’d tried.
What had Remy done to show Erin he was trying? He’d been so busy fixing himself and trying to patch together his own issues, he hadn’t taken any time to show her he could make her happy. A damn shame since he loved her so much he thought he didn’t know how he’d get through another week without her.
He’d known it as soon as he’d left Heartache, but it wasn’t fair to tell her until he knew he could uphold his end of what that meant.
But as he fried his fish and ticked through all the ways he’d failed her, he figured he might have enough of his act together to try again.
No, try his ass off now that he knew how far he’d fallen short.
“Maybe we’d better take a look at the place.” He slid the fish onto a serving platter and put it on the table in front of his daughter.
Sarah simply stared at him.
“Excuse me?” she said finally, eyes wide.
“It sounded to me like you want to check out the new restaurant. And I’m agreeing. Maybe it’s a good idea.” He was setting the pan in the sink when the tackle hug came.
It didn’t incapacitate him as much as the squeal that pierced his ear. Partially deaf but definitely pleased with himself, Remy hugged his daughter tight.
No matter what else happened, he’d made one special girl happy today.
But he knew it would take a lot more than cupcakes to convince Erin to take another chance on him.
For the first time, the words “hope springs eternal” didn’t tear him apart when he thought about them.
If anything, he hoped that whoever said them knew what he or she was talking about because he needed Erin to have some small hope left. Some lingering faith in him.
Erin had every faith her highlights were going to look amazing.
She straightened from the wash sink at The Strand where Trish has just rinsed out the solution that would put ombré highlights in her newly caramel-colored hair. Of course, her hair was one of the few parts of her life that was working out for her these days. Well, that and her professional life.