Chapter Seventeen Remi
Chapter Seventeen
Remi
Remi didn’t move from the doorway for a long time.
The weight of what happened the night before pressed on her chest like a stone.
A part of her wanted to crumble to the floor and cry.
Another part—the stronger one—stood upright, steady.
She had survived the truth. The kitchen clock ticked loudly.
A pot of coffee she’d brewed earlier sat on the counter, untouched.
She poured herself a cup anyway, hands trembling slightly.
She walked out to the sunporch. The sun was brighter now.
She pulled the afghan tighter around her arms and sat down in one of the wicker chairs, legs tucked beneath her.
This porch had been her refuge throughout a few summers but had somehow managed to bear witness to several stages of her life—joy, grief, hope, now betrayal.
She had shared wine and dreams with Gerard on this same porch.
Now, as she sat here alone, what she felt was anger toward him.
He had been her everything. She knew him better than she knew her own self—loved him with every fiber of her being.
He was the yin to her yang, and even when he’d messed up with Iris, she’d forgiven him.
In the distance she could see Leo making long strides toward her house. She tried with all her might to still her heart—which seemed as if it were going to burst out of her chest. She tried to get herself together before Leo saw her falling apart.
He stepped onto the porch. “Good morning.” His smile was bright like sunshine, which was what she needed.
“Good morning to you,” Remi said, attempting to make her voice smile, though her face wasn’t smiling at all.
“You better?”
Remi nodded. “I don’t know. I think so. I will be.”
He sat in the wicker chair beside hers, a cup filled with coffee gripped in his hand. “She’s gone?”
“Yes.”
Leo didn’t push. He just sipped his coffee.
After a while Remi asked, “Do you think you can forgive someone for something like that? Something that rips the floor out from under you?”
Leo looked out toward the hills. “I think forgiveness is less about them and more about you, Remi. It’s about whether you want to carry that weight for the rest of your life.”
Remi absorbed his words in silence. She knew she wasn’t ready to forgive, not yet. Maybe she never would be. But she also didn’t want to carry someone else’s burden, nor live in bitterness for the rest of her life.
“I just want to focus on Joie,” she finally said. “This winery was supposed to be a new chapter. Supposed to bring me joy.”
“And it will be, Remi,” Leo said. “It’s going to be everything you dreamed of and more.”
She smiled faintly. They sat for a while longer in comfortable silence.
Her phone buzzed and she picked it up. It was a message from Paloma: Your bottling equipment is set to arrive this week!
Let’s talk about marketing and social media, okay?
Everything’s moving forward. So proud of you, amiga. Joie is happening.
Remi stared at the message, her heart swelling with hope. She needed hope at that moment. It was like a rainbow after a storm.
“Let’s do something today,” Leo suggested with a beaming smile. “I know just the thing, if you’re game.”
“I’m game,” Remi replied.
The wind was playful along the Sonoma Coast, teasing Remi’s curls as Leo maneuvered his drop-top white Mercedes up the winding route of Highway 1.
The sky was perfectly blue—not a cloud in sight.
A cooler sat on the red leather back seat of his car, filled with vegetables from the farmers market, aged cheese, prosciutto, and a bottle of white wine.
The sound of Kirk Whalum’s saxophone belted from the speakers and serenaded them.
Remi enjoyed the drive; she felt a sense of peace, solace, a temporary escape from reality.
The farther they drove along those cliffs, the more she almost forgot about the truths she’d uncovered and the confrontation that had taken place just last night. Almost.
Leo found a perfect spot for a picnic. He spread a handwoven blanket out on the ground—a deep navy one that he’d packed into his trunk.
“Cheers,” he said, pouring wine into the stemless glasses and passing one on to her.
“To beginnings,” she added. The glass was cool in her hand. The wine crisp, floral, citrusy.
Seagulls passed overhead. Down the slope, a family with two children chased each other through the sand, their laughter carrying over the waves that crashed against the shore.
Her mind drifted to Gerard and Bianca, but she tried not to let the thoughts consume her—tried not to visualize them together.
The waves were steady, relentless, and she liked that about them. No matter the storm, no matter the change, the sea always returned itself.
“I’m not ready to forgive either one of them,” she whispered.
Leo passed her a bundle of green grapes. “Then don’t. Until you’re ready,” he said. “You deserve to move at your own pace.”
They ate in the kind of silence that didn’t require filling, the kind that healed. Around them, the coast pulsed with life, seagulls cried, the scent of salt from the ocean danced in the wind, the sea whispered. And she found herself listening intently to all of it.
“At least I have Zoe,” Remi said out of the blue. “She’s the one good thing in all of this. He gave me Zoe.”
“That is a good thing. Vivian and I didn’t have any children together, and my son—my son before Vivian … our relationship is a little strained.”
“I didn’t know you had a son. Is he here … in Napa?”
“No, he’s in Virginia. Stationed there. He’s a Marine,” Leo said. “He followed in my footsteps.”
“You were a Marine?”
“Once a Marine, always a Marine. Always faithful. Semper fi.” Leo reached into his wallet and pulled out a worn photo, its edges curled.
Remi took it and studied the face of a young man in full dress uniform, decorated with gold buttons down the front and medals pinned on the lapel, a white hat perched proudly on his head. “Look at you.” She smiled widely. “Looking all serious.”
“It was a serious time in my life.” Leo smiled broadly.
She handed him the photo back. “Why is your relationship with your son strained?”
Leo sighed. “After I divorced his mother … he pretty much divorced me too.”
“That’s tough,” she said softly. She felt the ache behind his words.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Hopefully one day we’ll figure it all out. But until then, I have to keep on living.”
“Understood,” she said, her voice gentle.
As the sun began to set, they packed up the picnic basket. The sun softened as they drove from the coast. The temperature was much cooler now too.
Remi looked over at Leo. “I had a good time today. Thank you for the daycation. It was nice just to be—without having to feel. Or explain.”
Remi looked down at her hands, resting on her knees.
Her wedding ring still on her finger. She hadn’t taken it off.
Not because she didn’t want to, but because she didn’t know what to replace it with.
That ring had become a part of who she was—a wife.
Even though he was gone, and even though he’d betrayed her—she was still his wife.
After a moment she continued. “You are one of the few people who understands me. Understands what I lost. What I’m carrying.”
She caught Leo studying her. He seemed to be looking at the soft edges of her profile against the window of his car. “You’ve always been carrying something, Remi,” he said. “I always saw past your polite smile. There has always been a heaviness about you.”
Remi blinked, the weight of his words settling against her chest. “What do you mean?”
“I mean … you give so much to everyone else, Remi. To Gerard. To Zoe. And from what you told me, to Bianca. You seem to have a need to take care of everyone. But you rarely give anything to yourself.”
She was quiet, her lips pressed together. The fact he saw all of that mystified her. She knew it was true, though. She had, in fact, buried her wants behind everyone else’s needs for so long. But now stepping into her own life again felt both thrilling and terrifying.
“You being here—it means more than you probably realize,” she said.
Leo reached for her hand but didn’t take it. He only let his fingers brush against hers.
Remi looked down at their hands. That simple touch sent a wave through her. Not a dramatic wave—just … human. She exhaled, slow and long.
“I think I forgot how to hold myself up, instead of everyone else.”
“You did what you needed to,” Leo said. “That’s not a crime. But now? Now maybe it’s time to live.”
For a long moment neither of them spoke.
The sky over Napa was beautiful with twilight approaching—lavender blue with specks of gold where the sun had already started disappearing.
He reached for her hand—fully this time.
She didn’t flinch, nor retreat. She let her hand rest in his, palm to palm, fingers curled together.
Remi allowed herself to feel—not like someone’s wife.
Or someone’s mother. Or someone’s anchor—but to just feel like herself.