Chapter 54 Houston, Texas—Remy
Houston, Texas—Remy
The plane carrying Remy, Skye, and Charlotte touched down in Houston beneath a soft twilight sky, the air a pleasant seventy degrees, a stark contrast to the fury still raging in his veins. The feeling of being verbally sucker-punched clung to him like a second skin.
Before their departure, Skye asked Charlotte for a pill to avoid an in-flight panic attack.
Remy should have swallowed one himself, perhaps, but a protective instinct demanded he remain fully alert, every sense tuned to Skye’s needs.
A sedative, he reasoned, wouldn’t exorcise the off-kilter feeling that plagued him.
He needed to recenter, to sharpen his mind, to ready himself against the big C.
Upon landing, Skye softly declared she didn’t want to take any more medication.
“I’ve realized I’m missing out,” she explained, her voice gentle, “missing the simple comfort of flying in a private plane. I want to learn to truly enjoy it.” Then, she leaned in, her whisper a private confession just for him.
“If I learn to relax, I can get a membership into that club, can’t I? ”
Initially, her meaning eluded him, and then understanding dawned.
He could have metaphorically kicked himself.
Damn! Skye, with her quiet resilience, was ready to face her anxieties, to find her courage, to share a deeper connection with him.
Now, as the warm Houston air enveloped them, the weight of her vulnerability and the promise of that shared experience settled upon him.
He smiled, a quiet promise in it. “How about we plan to do that on the flight home?”
Her confident smile was a brilliant sunrise across the landscape of his foul mood, dissolving the shadows and lighting up his world with clarity.
Ever the discreet strategist, Remy had ensured a sleek sedan waited for them on the tarmac for a private pickup.
“You didn’t want to rent a vehicle, like we did in New Orleans?” Skye inquired, her voice a low hum of curiosity as they approached the idling car.
Remy paused, the smooth click of his aviators settling onto the bridge of his nose, the strap of his computer bag swinging casually over his broad shoulder.
“I wasn’t sure what kind of driving restrictions I might have,” he explained.
“And you won’t be behind the wheel until you’ve had driving lessons.
Once we’re back at the plantation, I’ll arrange that for you, Kaitlyn, and Tony. ”
“Can you drive, Charlotte?”
“Yes, but I prefer a driver when I’m in an unfamiliar city.”
A low chuckle rumbled from Remy’s chest, the amusing sound aimed at Braham’s disapproval of Charlotte’s driving. Her frequent commutes from the plantation to Richmond had become a blur of endless phone calls, making the road less safe than it should be. Yet, she refused to give up her independence.
“When I learn to drive, what kind of car can I get? Another Ford?”
“How about a tank?” Remy was joking, but it wasn’t a bad idea.
Skye’s brows knitted into a frown. “Like the Renault light tank used during the Great War?”
“That’s a good idea. You’d be safe in that.”
“I’ll help you pick out a vehicle,” Charlotte said. “I drive a very safe sedan, and I think Remy would approve of the car’s advanced safety features.”
“Okay, that’s what I’ll get.”
“I’d rather see you in a Ford Maverick SuperCrew. A real vehicle, not that fancy-schmancy one designed for being chauffeured around town. And what Charlotte didn’t mention was that her car, a Mercedes Maybach, cost almost four hundred thousand dollars,” Remy said.
Skye’s jaw dropped. “For a car? Is it lined with gold?”
“It should be, but it was a gift from Elliott, and I couldn’t send it back,” Charlotte said.
The chauffeur stood next to the open rear door. “Good afternoon, Mr. Benoit. I hope you and the ladies had a pleasant flight.”
“It was only my third trip on an airplane. I just haven’t gotten used to all the bumps and grinds,” Skye said.
“It is the safest form of travel, ma’am.”
“That’s what they say, but I’m not completely convinced.” Before Skye got into the vehicle, she said, “I’m Skye Marshall. What’s your name?”
“Liam O’Brien, and it’s my pleasure to drive you during your visit to Houston.
” He closed the door and slid into the driver’s seat.
“At this time of day, it’ll take between thirty and forty minutes to reach the St. Regis.
Sit back and enjoy the ride. As requested, you have a selection of beverages, including a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle. ”
“Whisky for me,” Charlotte said.
“And me,” Skye added.
Remy poured the drinks and leaned back, trying to relax. His phone buzzed—then buzzed again. Messages from Elliott and David—both apologies, both offers to help.
“Is that Elliott?” Charlotte asked, glancing up from her phone.
“Why—did he text you, too?”
“He texts me several times a day.” She smiled faintly. “I’m on speed-text instead of speed dial.”
Remy huffed a quiet laugh. “Me too. I’m just not ready to talk to him yet.”
Charlotte’s expression softened. “I heard what happened.”
“At the meeting?” Skye asked. “It was awful. But if I hadn’t stormed out, we probably could’ve figured out what to do.”
“No, you couldn’t have figured it out today. It’s too complicated, and neither one of you has the brain power right now. Elliott and Braham shouldn’t have brought it to a meeting for discussion. They were wrong to do it, and I’ve told them so.”
A wave of relief washed over Remy. The urge to reach for his phone, answer their texts, and mend the fractured silence was strong. But as quickly as the idea arrived, so did hesitation. Maybe he’d extend the suspense a little longer.
“What are we going to do tonight?” Skye asked.
“Have a nice dinner, a leisurely walk, and an early bedtime,” he said, knowing he’d already encroached on the two-to-seven-day range for abstaining from ejaculation. Making love tonight wasn’t in the cards.
“Are you having dinner with us?” Skye asked Charlotte.
“I have a lecture to prepare for. I’ll have dinner in my suite. You two enjoy your night in Houston.”
After a decadent dinner at Vic & Anthony’s, they wandered through the moonlit paths of Discovery Green, the city lights blurring into a romantic haze. The world outside faded away as they retreated to their suite and shared a leisurely bath with a bottle of wine and a long playlist.
Later, wrapped in the warmth of the bedcovers, Remy pulled Skye into his arms. The worries about doctor appointments and looming treatments were realities he wanted to escape.
He sought refuge not in conversation but in the tender closeness of her embrace, holding her as though she were the only truth he needed, until the gentle rhythm of her breath lulled him into a peaceful sleep.