Page 46 of The Redemption of Remy St. Claire

Her pajamas were nowhere in sight. No sweat suit, no jeans, no sweater. Just a dress for tomorrow and a little, teeny, tiny negligee. A negligee she hadn’t owned, of that, she was sure. More of Olivia and Marnie meddling in things that weren’t their affair.

And just as quickly as the anger flared, she relented. She knew the women’s histories. She knew the hell each had endured. If they took some measure of pleasure in making today special, who was she to hold a grudge? It made her appear petty, and she didn’t like that feeling.

Where did that leave her? She couldn’t sleep in tomorrow’s outfit—that was a no-brainer. She could either bunk down in her beautiful wedding dress or put on the negligee. She sighed. No choice. The silk dress would never endure a night of being slept in.

The knock on the door caught her off-guard.

“Remy, sweetheart, are you okay?”

She had been in there quite some time. He was probably starting to wonder if she had a bladder problem, since she was spending so much of their wedding day in the bathroom.

“Just give me a minute, Rusty.”And could you turn out the lights and not peek?

She was being an idiot. He’d seen her looking less-than-perfect. He’d seen her wearing a tank top and shorts. This wasn’t that much more revealing. The intention behind the outfit, not the outfit itself, set off alarm bells so loud it amazed her he couldn’t hear them.

She relented. Easing her wedding gown over her head, she donned the skimpy lingerie. She secured the gown in the garment bag and zipped it up. One final steadying breath and she opened the bathroom door.

He had his back to her and gazed out over the city. When he started to turn, she spoke quickly.

“Can you stay turned for a minute?”

“Okay.” There was a tone of inquiry, but he didn’t make a move.

She hurriedly set the bags on the dresser and dove into bed.

“You can turn around now.”

Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, he closed the drapes, shutting out the winking lights.

Holidays started in a few weeks, and the city was full of bright, shining Christmas lights.

She felt disconnected from the whole affair because her grief still lay just below the surface. This would be her first Christmas without her parents. Without her mother. Her mother would’ve prepared her for tonight. In retrospect, she should’ve talked to Marnie. She should’ve acknowledged the truth plainly in front of her.

That they’d never talked about sex. Or more specifically, sex between the two of them.

Chapter twenty

He’donlyturnedonthe two bedside lamps, so a warm glow bathed the room. Okay, his wife was in bed, covers pulled up to her chin. She was always so tough with him, but now she appeared small and fragile. She always put up such a brave front, but she hurt. Clearly she still grieved.

His agreement to her offer of marriage had been born of more than just solicitousness.

Marry in haste...

Wordlessly, he picked up his bag, heading to the bathroom. Whereas she’d taken a long time, he felt no such necessity. After a quick shower, he donned his T-shirt and sweatpants.

When he re-entered, the lamp on her side of the bed was turned off. She lay on her side, so close to the edge of the bed, a breath of wind would knock her to the floor. She was stiff as a board, and although she tried to appear asleep, he didn’t buy it. There was no way she was asleep—given the clock read just past eight.

He promised he’d crash on the floor, but that held little appeal. Especially since he’d be awake for several more hours.

“Remy?”

She stiffened further, if that was possible.

“Would it be okay if I sit on the bed?”

The silence seemed to spin out.Is she going to answer me?

“Okay.”

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