Page 8 of A Kiss to Remember
“You know I’m not one to listen to gossip.” Remi coughed, earning a narrow-eyed look from her mother. “But I heard about the kiss at the library. Really, Remi, a little more propriety would’ve been appreciated, but if the story is true...”
Remi didn’t confirm or deny, just sipped her drink. But her mother obviously took her silence as confirmation, and a smile that could only be described as cat-ate-the-whole-flock-of-canaries spread across her face.
“If the story is true, then why haven’t you brought him by the house for dinner? Do you know how embarrassing it is to hear that my daughter is dating one of the most eligible men in town from someone else? And here I’ve been so worried about—”
“Mom, please, stop. Declan and I—We’re just friends,” she interrupted, holding up her free hand, palm out.
Her mother’s excited flow of words snapped off like the cracking of a brittle tree limb. She stared at Remi, the delight in her eyes dimming to frustration and... Sadness. It was that sadness that tore through Remi. As if hermediocrityactually pained her mother.
Rochelle’s gaze dropped down to Remi’s body, skimming her dress. Before her mother’s scrutiny even lifted back to Remi’s face, anxiety and unease churned in her belly. Tension invaded her body, drawing her shoulders back, pouring ice water into her veins.
She knew what was coming.
Braced herself for it.
“Maybe... Maybe if you would try to dress just a bit more appropriately for a woman of your—stature, you could possibly be more than friends. If you wore clothes that...concealed rather than drew attention to problematic areas, perhaps Declan would focus more on your lovely face and ignore everything else.”
The gentle tone didn’t soften the dagger-sharp thrust or make the wound bleed any less.
That it was her mother who twisted the knife and sought to slice her self-esteem to shreds only worsened the pain.
“I’m only telling you this because I love you, and I want you to be happy like your sisters. You know that, don’t you, honey?” Rochelle covered Remi’s cold hand, squeezed it, the hazel eyes that Remi had inherited, soft and pleading.
I don’t know that! If you cared, if you really loved me like you do Briana and Sherri, then you would see how you’re tearing me apart.
The words howled inside her head, shoved at her throat with angry fists. Only the genuine affection in her mother’s gaze chained them inside. That and her unwillingness to hurt her mother, even though Rochelle didn’t possess the same reluctance.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Remi murmured, setting her drink down on a nearby table. She couldn’t stomach it anymore.
Couldn’t stomach... A lot of things anymore.
Without waiting for her mother’s reply, she strode over to the small group where Declan stood. He glanced down at her, and that violet gaze sharpened, seeming to bore past the smile she fixed on her face.
Several minutes later, before she had time to fully register being maneuvered, she found herself bundled in her coat on the sidewalk outside the café, Declan at her side.
She didn’t speak as they strolled back in the direction of the library, and he didn’t try to force her into conversation. The events of the entire day whirled through her mind like a movie reel, pausing on the kiss before speeding on fast-forward to him showing up at the library only to pause on her discussion with her mother.
I want you to be happy like your sisters.
Remi could pinpoint the last time her mother had been proud of her. Because it’d been the time of her last heartbreak, her last failure.
And the whole town had been there to bear witness.
For Rochelle Donovan, happiness meant a husband, marriage, children. And Remi desired that—she did. But if she didn’t have them, she wasn’t less of a woman, less worthy. Not having the whole fairy-tale wedding and family thing wouldn’t be due to the size of her breasts, hips or ass. And she refused to decrease in size—whether in weight, personality or spirit—for someone else to love her.
She’d been willing to do that once. Never again.
And yet... Yet, for a moment, Remi had glimpsed that flicker of pride in her mother’s eyes again, and her heart had swelled. It’d been so long.
She was tired of being a failure in her mother’s eyes. Of being a disappointment. Was it so wrong to yearn for that light in Rochelle’s gaze directed toward her, the one Briana and Sherri took for granted?
Remi knew who she was. Knew her own worth. Owned herself.
But just once...
She slammed to an abrupt halt. And turned to Declan.
To his credit, he didn’t appear surprised or alarmed. He just slid his hands into his pants pockets, his coat pushed back to expose that wide chest, flat abdomen and those strong thighs. A swimmer’s body—tall, long and lean. And powerful. Staring at him, she combatted the need to step close and closer still, curl against the length of him and just... Rest. She’d come to rely on herself a long time ago, but in the café, she’d uncharacteristically allowed him to take charge. And it’d been a relief. To let someone else carry the burden for a few moments—yes, it’d been a relief.
