Chapter 48 New Orleans—Remy
New Orleans—Remy
Remy’s strength was draining, yet the tight-knit gang was relying on him for a perfectly grilled dinner—and he couldn’t disappoint them. He tossed the spice-crusted steaks onto the searing gas grill and set the timer on his watch.
The wall of windows offered a cinematic view directly into the kitchen, and his gaze was drawn there.
He watched Penny, Marcelle, and Skye whirl through the room, preparing sides and salads.
Penny, her eyes already sparkling, poured a trio of ruby-red wines and raised her glass in a silent toast. The women clinked glasses and erupted in a cascade of shared laughter.
He knew from experience they weren’t laughing at the men.
Oh no, they reserved those juicy stories for their legendary, no-holds-barred getaways on Charlotte’s pontoon—where, he’d been reliably informed, nothing was off limits.
And that was precisely why his first night with Skye had to be perfect.
Every single detail would become fuel for those future pontoon tales.
But did he really, truly care? Hell, yeah, he cared, and for a personal reason.
If he failed to perform with the prowess his reputation promised, the women would discuss how he hadn’t lived up to the hype.
And how would that make Skye feel? Not good at all.
Clay sauntered out, carrying two bottles of beer. Remy redirected his focus to the steaks, where the rich, meaty scent mingled with the floral aroma drifting from the nearby moonflowers in the garden.
“Do you want one of these?” Clay asked.
“Thanks.” Remy uncapped the bottle and took a long draw. “Are they almost finished in there?”
“Penny said four to five minutes.”
“Hers woan be ready, but the others will. Where’s Rick?”
“On the phone with Meredith.”
“It’s two o’clock in the morning. Doesn’t she ever sleep?”
“That’s rhetorical, right? You can’t really blame her. JC and Emily’s fall wedding at MacKlenna Farm is more important to her than any release she’s ever had. And with the winery hosting a pre-wedding party, her to-do list grows by the hour.”
“Everybody knows how obsessive Meredith gets before an event, and I doan envy Rick.” Remy stuck a meat thermometer into a steak. “Couple more minutes.” He propped his hip on the edge of a bar stool, beer in one hand, tongs in the other.
“What are we going to do about the Illuminati?”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” Remy said. “Rick, Connor, and Pete should go back to the day before Alistair dies—”
Clay’s eyes flashed. “And stop it from happening?”
“They’re former cops. They might try, but they can’t change history.”
“Braham almost did.”
“If he’d saved Lincoln, it would have radically altered history.”
Clay’s eyes narrowed. “Whose history would we change if we saved Alistair? Skye’s?”
Remy shrugged. “It’s impossible to know. But it could screw up our relationship.”
“Then the team should go the following day. The trail won’t be cold yet. But what about Skye? She’ll want to go back,” Clay said.
“She can’t go. There can’t be two Skyes mourning Alistair’s death. We’ll have to hash this out when we get back to the plantation.”
“I hope that satisfies Skye. If it doesn’t, Elliott will have to talk to her. She won’t argue with him.”
Remy laughed at that. “Everybody argues with Elliott, or at least tries to, and Skye won’t be the exception.”
“Maybe David should talk to her. Nobody argues with David.”
“Except for Kenzie and the twins.” Remy gazed through the window again and was ready to change the subject. “Marcelle looks like she’s having fun in there. How’s it going with you two?”
Clay pulled out a stool and sat down at the bar. “If you’re asking about my sex life. Don’t. It’s none of your damn business.”
“Okay, I woan, but I’m still curious about how it’s going between you two.”
“We’re taking it slow.”
“That means you aren’t sleeping together.”
“It means we’re taking it slow,” Clay said in an annoyed tone. “She has a major move to make and a new, challenging job. As for me, I’m getting an office at the plantation so I can write the great American novel. If I don’t show progress, I’ll hear from Elliott.”
“Once you sit down at your desk and turn on your laptop, the words will flow. Just doan let Elliott read your draft. He’ll be too critical and will try to rewrite sections of your manuscript.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. Doan do it.” Remy flipped the steaks. “Are you and Marcelle staying in the same room?”
“That’s a non sequitur if I’ve ever heard one. And for the second, third, or fourth time, I’m not talking about my sex life.”
Remy looked past Clay’s bullshit to figure out what was going on with him, and there was only one answer. “If you’re not talking, then there’s no sex life to talk about.”
Clay took a long draw on his beer. “Marcelle was uncomfortable staying in the same room with Bastien in the house.”
Remy did a double-take. “What the hell! He’s sharing a room with Kaitlyn.”
“There are family dynamics I don’t understand, and I don’t want to upset the apple cart this weekend. Once Marcelle moves to Virginia, we’ll have time to explore a relationship.”
That sounded weird to Remy. “Not if she’s moving in with Bastien.”
“She’s getting an apartment.”
“Good. Moving into Bastien’s house would be a disaster, especially now that he has Kaitlyn. But here’s my piece of advice. Talk to Bastien about you and Marcelle. I’ve known him for a long time. He wants his sister to be happy and will give you the green light.”
“I doubt it. Bastien’s still pissed that we planned to keep him in the dark for a few days. And I agree. It was a dumbass thing to do.”
Remy checked the temperature again. “Almost done. As for Bastien, once he fully appreciates why we concocted that plan, he’ll get over it. And besides, he found you and Marcelle within hours, so the plan never got off the ground.”
“You missed the point. It’s not that the plan wasn’t implemented. It’s that there was a plan to begin with.”
“David will set him straight. Leave it to him.”
“I’m not holding my breath.” Clay finished his beer and went inside to get two more, quickly returning without getting hooked into taking out the garbage or something else.
He handed a beer to Remy. “Don’t be in a hurry tonight.
They’re all planning to take a bubble bath with the ultimate body soak kits Penny brought for all the women. ”
“At least they’ll sleep well.”
“What the hell? What’s going on with you and Skye?”
Remy cracked open a beer. “I’m an open book. Ask away.”
“You’re a recluse. There’s nothing open about you.”
Remy removed the steaks, transferred them onto a warm serving platter, and loosely tented the plate with aluminum foil. “Tell me how you really feel.”
“I did.”
“Here’s the deal, and if you tell anyone, I’ll deny it.
This family, from Elliott on down, is full of happily married couples.
Sometimes it’s hard to be around them. Am I jealous?
Fuck yeah! I’ve waited for my happily ever after.
Finally, it was my turn, and I found Skye. She’s perfect and perfect for me.”
“I won’t argue with that, but you haven’t been together very much. I know you were with Archibald most of last night, and she was up early to work out with Meredith and Kenzie,” Clay said.
Remy continued gazing through the window.
Skye radiated with a blend of contentment and joy.
Remy’s heart swelled with an overwhelming desire to cherish her, to wrap her in all the love and adoration he could offer.
And he resolved that if she wanted to spread her wings, as corny as it sounded, he would be the wind beneath them, even if it carried her beyond his embrace.
Yeah, he’d read that shit somewhere—the back of a bathroom door probably—and it was a fucking lie. He’d never be the wind to carry Skye anywhere except closer to him.
“I was hoping to have one-on-one time with her tonight, but since I can’t give her the best of me, it woan happen.”
“Because you’re tired? Seriously? You’re turning down sex because you’ve missed a couple of nights’ sleep? That’s unlike you.”
“Hard to believe, but yeah, that’s about it. I’ve been feeling like this for a few weeks, but over the past few days it’s caught up with me. When we get back, I’ll get a physical. I probably just need extra vitamins,” Remy said with weary resignation.
“Since Charlotte’s got that fancy MRI, take advantage of it and have a full-body screening. If there’s a problem, the scan will pick it up.”
“Fatigue isn’t serious enough for an MRI.”
Worry lines framed Clay’s mouth and tugged at his eyes. “It’s not a lack of vitamins, Remy.”
The muscles at the back of Remy’s neck tightened. “Did you go to medical school and decide to keep your MD a secret?”
“No. But you’re not your usual chipper self, and I beat your time during the one-mile training run last week.”
“Trainer Ted noticed and told Elliott, which is crazy. I’m in the best shape of anyone in the family. If there’s anything wrong with me, Charlotte would have noticed and insisted on running tests last night.”
“That’s crap. You would’ve put Charlotte off with some excuse about focusing on Archibald and treating you later.
But here’s the thing. I’m observant. A couple of months ago, you got beaten up in that boxing match and haven’t been the same since.
You don’t have an appetite, and you’re drinking more whisky, maybe for temporary pain relief? ”
Remy held up his beer bottle. “Not drinking whisky now, so stop analyzing me.”
“I’m not. But I’m good at what I do. I read people and notice when they do the unexpected. No one noticed you were off tonight and missed a beat. I’ve never seen that happen with you.”
“Elliott noticed.”
“Ha!” Clay raised a fist in the air to express a perceived victory. “If Elliott noticed a missing drumbeat, he was watching you, which means he’s worried. Since we’re going to be here a few days, maybe there’s a clinic you can go to.”