Page 117 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

One eye cracked open. “I don’t need you to mother me.”

She teased and he fought to keep it light. What he wanted to do was order her to bed for a week, but that wouldn’t happen. She was an adult. If she wanted a coffee at six o’clock at night, that was her choice.

“Pizza’s ready. Do you need a hand?”

Her expression of gratitude only reinforced his belief she needed some pampering. She offered her hand and he took it in one hand and placed the other at her elbow, easing her to her feet.

She swayed.

“Remy—”

“I’m okay, Rusty. I just need to eat.”

“Did you have lunch?”

“I tried, but I was too nervous.”

He wanted to demand details, but they were at the kitchen.

The pizza, cooling on a rack, was now the perfect serving temperature.

He helped her to a chair and placed a kiss on her cheek before moving to the pizza.

Dinner was a jovial affair, but he tamped down unease.

Remy smiled and engaged with the girls, but her heart wasn’t in it. She only ate half her pizza and drank little of her coveted latté.

After dinner, the girls headed to the bathroom for baths.

When she stacked the dishes, his patience snapped. “I don’t care if you think I’m being heavy-handed, but I’m putting my foot down. Go to bed. I’ve got this.”

She startled him when she looked up at him through a sheen of tears. “Okay.” She turned and walked away, leaving him as baffled as ever.

Hearing the water and knowing a disaster might occur if he wasn’t there, he made his way to the girls’ bathroom. They seemed to take an extra-long time in the bath and wanted three stories, not two, but he tamped down his impatience. Remy hadn’t appeared at story time and that was as telling as her sheen of tears had been.

Finally, when the girls were dozing off, he made his way to the kitchen. Clean-up took all of five minutes, just long enough to heat the compress in the microwave.

Remy had changed into her pajamas and was curled in the fetal position on the bed. She’d squeezed her eyes shut, but she wasn’t asleep.

What am I supposed to do?“Sweetheart, can you open your eyes?”

She complied, but tears still shimmered.

“I brought you a hot compress. Can I put it against your abdomen?”

She nodded and let him lay it against her pelvis. She hissed.

“Too hot?”

She shook her head and closed her eyes again.

“Deep breaths, okay? Just take deep breaths.”

She didn’t answer but complied. Slowly her breaths lengthened, and she let out a shuddering sigh.

He shed his jeans and sweater and pulled on his pajamas. He’d thought after they made love, he’d finally be able to dispense with them, but he wanted her to feel safe. Lying in bed with a naked man might be some women’s idea of heaven, but he wasn’t sure she was there yet.

He eased himself into bed. With the greatest of care, he lay on his side and then placed his hand at the small of Remy’s back. “Is it okay if I massage here?”

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