Page 124 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

“I am, thank you.”

Remy acknowledged her salad and offered her own words of thanks.

Silence descended upon the women as they ate.

Remy was glad Sissy’d chosen a warm meal. Her face was wan, and her hair was still wet, but at least she wasn’t shivering anymore. The tremors hadn’t been pronounced, but Remy had still noticed. She’d have offered her own jacket if there was a chance in hell the other woman would’ve accepted it.

“How did you get to the courthouse today?”

Sissy shrugged. “I walked.” She laid down her fork. “I almost didn’t come. I knew that’d be the easiest way to go. The legal-aid lawyer said if I didn’t show, then you’d see it as assent.”

“You saw a lawyer?” Remy’d never have guessed. What kind of lawyer would’ve given such poor advice? “Which lawyer did you see?”

“A guy named Nick. He helped me. He offered to help me fight, if I wanted that, and then accepted it when I said I didn’t want to.”

Sissy resumed eating.

Had the woman simply woken up this morning and decided to give up? No, clearly a lot of thought had gone into her decision. What was she thinking? “Why did you come today?”

“Because, like I said, I wanted it on the record. I wanted to make sure there was no question left in anybody’s mind.” Sissy placed her fork back on the table and looked almost surprised to see that most of her food had been devoured. “I want you to adopt Miracle.”

Remy choked on a piece of lettuce and sputtered. It took a large sip of water and several moments to fix the problem.What the actual…?“I’m not her mother—you are. Nothing will change that.”

Sissy shook her head, sadness shadowing her eyes. “You don’t know everything, Remy. If you did, you wouldn’t be sitting here talking with me.”

What was that supposed to mean?“Despite what you think of me, Sissy, I’m not your enemy. I’m not here to judge. I just want to protect those…those whom I love.” And she did love them. She loved Calleigh. She loved Mira. Maybe she even loved Rusty. “I’m not perfect, Sissy. I have regrets. I have things I’d change, if I could. There are things I’m not proud of. Sorrows I’ve endured.”

“I was sorry to hear about your parents.”

“Thank you, but that wasn’t what I was referring to. You’re not the only one with deep secrets.”

Sissy cocked her head. “You can tell him anything, you know. He won’t judge you. He’ll love you just the same.”

“He doesn’t love me.” This she could say with surety.

“Of course he does. He wouldn’t have married you otherwise.”

Remy shifted. If Sissy thought that, then what harm was there, really?

“Oh, I know you think you married him to help him out, to save Mira from me, but he would’ve found another way, if he had to.” Sissy’s eyes misted a little. “I could’ve signed those papers when I signed the divorce papers, but I didn’t. I wanted you guys to find a way to be together, and if that meant leading you to believe I’d fight, then so be it. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when you married.”

Stunned into silence, Remy tried to absorb Sissy’s words. She was the first to admit she didn’t like getting played, but this defied logic. She’d misunderstood, right? Surely Sissy hadn’t manipulated Remy into marriage to Rusty. The woman sitting across from her would’ve had no way to guarantee Remy would propose to him. No way of knowing he’d accept. “I don’t know what to say.”

Sissy met her gaze. “Just tell me I did the right thing. That you’ll take care of my family.”

At least there, she could assuage the other woman’s doubts. “I will, I promise.” She hesitated. “But this doesn’t have to be the end. The judge was right when he suggested we could keep a place open for you if you stay clean.” Startling herself, she reached across and grasped Sissy’s hand. “Look, where are you living?”

“I was living at the sober-living house up the hill, but they’re about to kick me out.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll fail my next drug test.”

“How can you…oh, God, tell me you didn’t.”

Sissy met her gaze definitely and defiantly. “I did. Right in the courthouse bathroom.”

Dread overcame Remy and, as tactless as her next question was going to be, she had to know. “Before or after?”

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