Page 128 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

She closed her eyes, her stomach churning.Shouldn’t have eaten the cheesecake.“I’m going to get changed, and then I’ll tell you about my conversation with Sissy.” She rose from the couch. “And I’ve never been in your face about honesty. I told you about the rape. I told you everything that mattered.” She fled.

Hours later, a small voice pulled her into consciousness.

“Remy?”

She struggled to sit up. Her room was pitch black, but a figure was silhouetted in the doorway. “Rusty?”

“No, it’s Olivia. I was checking on you.”

Remy pushed away the cobwebs. She and Rusty had fought. She’d come in to get changed. Instead of going back out for another confrontation, she’d lain down on the bed. He’d come and get her—of that she’d been sure. She must’ve fallen asleep. “What time is it?”

“It’s six.”

She propelled herself out of bed. “Six? Where the hell is Rusty?”

“He wasn’t here when I got back. When you didn’t greet me at the door, I figured you weren’t feeling well, you know? I fed the girls, and they’re watching Dora. I can stay, it’s no problem. It’s just that I’m supposed to see Tristan. Canceling is no big deal…”

“Rusty’s not here?”

Olivia shook her head. “There’s an envelope on the table with your name on it, but I didn’t touch it.” She barely made it out of the way as Remy pushed past her and into the kitchen.

“Where? Where’s the letter?”

Olivia plucked it from the table and handed it to her. “Remy, what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

She tore at the envelope, terrified of what she might find.

I need some time. I’ll be back.

Sinking into the nearest chair, she held the letter to her breast. He was coming back.Of course he’s coming back.Mira was here.

Was he coming back for his daughter or for his marriage?

I don’t think I want to know.

Chapter fifty

“Morecoffee?”

Rusty held his hand over the mug, indicating he was done.

The diner waitress was young. Quite young. Probably too young to be working in a place like this. And he should know. His wife had worked here from the time she was twelve until they’d married.

His ex-wife.

He’d come here to remind himself of what a hardscrabble life Sissy’d lived before their marriage. Oh, there had been lean times after the marriage—but nothing like her life had been before. The only daughter of an alcoholic mother, she’d been the adult in the relationship. She’d taken care of herself practically from the time she’d been able to go to school. Her mother’d never held down a steady job, and Sissy’d learned to make the welfare check last.

Colleen Smith’sboyfriendshad been Sissy’s biggest nightmare growing up. A few men had groped her. One had grabbed, but none had ever assaulted her. She’d lived in a hellhole of a trailer and worked at this crappy highway diner until she’d been able to graduate from high school and marry him. He’d been so proud of her. She was a survivor.

After she signed the papers, she went into the ladies’ bathroom, crushed two Oxy, and snorted them.

He had two competing visions in his mind. One of his ex-wife in that bathroom, and one of his current wife having to tell him. He’d experienced fear that rivaled the moment he’d heard about Mira being in the hospital. Ironic. Until that moment, he hadn’t really allowed himself to believe Sissy was clean. Because if she was clean, that made him the bad guy. He was the one keeping mother from daughter.

And now, because of his cruelty, she was using again.

He’d contemplated, for a quick moment, Remy’s suggestion. What’d happen if he went to see Sissy? Could he convince her to quit again? Just as quickly he discarded the notion. He’d spent three years begging her to quit. Why would today be any different?

I’m a bastard.

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