“When you married Audrey. On your wedding night. On your first anniversary. Just imagine if it had been me and Spence,” she said.
The slice of pain was instantaneous, as if she’d jammed a knife between his ribs. How would he have survived that? How would he have looked across the breakfast table when they’d come to visit him? Would the four of them have been friends? While he pined for the girl his brother had?
“Jesus. Remi,” he said. His heart felt like it was in a vice.
“I remember your wedding day,” she continued, oblivious to the fact that he was one second away from groveling on the floor for her forgiveness. “I was here. In my parents’ house. In my room. I told them I had the flu so they’d go without me. I couldn’t go near that church. I couldn’t be here anymore. Not when I knew I’d see you two looking so happy together. Not when I wanted it to be me. I emptied my savings and I bought a ticket to Chicago while you were saying your vows.”
Vows that had made him sweat. He’d loved Audrey. In his own way. And she’d been in love with at least the idea of him. But it had never been right.
“Baby.”
“It’s selfish, but I’m glad you saved this for me,” she said.
“Only you,” he said fiercely.
She exhaled slowly. “Speaking of Audrey and Spencer. Would you be upset if they got together?”
Brick shrugged. “Why would I care?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. “Good answer, because I think they’re banging.”
“Speaking of, I just busted your sister doing the walk of shame up our porch steps.”
Remi squirmed against him. “Are you serious?”
“Said she was out for a run.”
“My sister doesn’t run,” she scoffed.
“She was wearing Kyle’s law school sweatshirt.”
“What a weird day,” she said, grinning up at him.
“I love you, Remington.” He felt like he was being swept away by a current stronger than he was. It was both terrifying and exhilarating.
“I love you, Brick. Now, let’s go downstairs, solve everyone’s problems, and go back to bed so I can show you with my mouth just how much I love you.”
48
Brick sat at his own dining table and tried not to acknowledge the rage that blazed inside him. Camille Vorhees sat across from him, carefully sipping water through split lips as Remi clutched her free hand.
“I appreciate you doing this here,” Camille said, automatically assuming the role of hostess as if the instinct had been bred into her.
“I’m sorry this is necessary at all, Mrs. Vorhees,” Chief Ford said from the head of the table. “But I appreciate you trusting us. Where would you like to start?”
“I spoke to my attorney. He’ll be filing for an order of protection and divorce tomorrow,” Camille said. “He felt it prudent that I discuss the situation with law enforcement.”
Darlene nodded. “We’ll take down the information and pass it on to the Illinois authorities since that’s where the alleged abuse occurred.”
“Alleged?” Remi snapped. “He drove us off a fucking cliff. There’s nothing alleged about it.”
“Remington,” her mother said crisply, then pointed to the tape recorder. Remi flipped the recorder the middle finger.
Brick wanted to reach out, to touch her, to reassure her with his body.
“Why don’t you two go get us some tea or coffee or ice cream,” Darlene suggested, looking between Brick and her daughter.
Camille gave Remi an encouraging smile. “Go ahead. I’ll be fine.”