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As if on cue, Remy pokes his head in the room. I draw the comforter up to my chin, as if he hadn't seen me in anything less than the tank top I'd put on after my shower. I know for a fact that the bathing suit I wore last night shows more cleavage than this, and that’s to say nothing of the bra and panties I’d had under my dress after the club. "Did you need something?"
"Yes." Rhea says firmly. "I need my best friend to come with me to Costa Rica. You don't have an issue with that, do you?"
"I thought that was established?" Remy glances at me, his lips turning into a little frown. "Are you having second thoughts?"
"S-second thoughts?" I sputter. "I haven't had a chance for first thoughts. Nobody told me I was supposed to go."
"I'm sorry," he scoffs. "I thought it was understood."
"So did I." Rhea turns to me again, and now they’re both looking at me expectantly.
"I... I don't have a passport."
"So?" Rhea shrugs.
"That won't be an issue," Remy assures me. "Everything's been taken care of."
My mind reels in search of another reason why I can’t go to Costa Rica, but I’ve got nothing.
I look between them, speechless, and finally manage to stammer out a single word, though it comes across as more of a question. "O-okay?"
"Ah! Thank you!" Rhea sweeps me into a hug as Remy turns to go. She squeezes me tight before letting go and standing decisively. "I figure just pack everything, right? We may just spend the rest of the summer in Costa Rica. I mean, why not? I've heard the men are divine!"
"Are you sure you want me to come?" I ask once Remy is out of sight. "This seems like a family matter."
"I'm sure I don't want to go without you." Rhea says firmly, planting her hands on her hips. "And I've told you, Claire. You are family."
Chapter eleven
Remy
"You've never flown?" I guess, eyeing Claire over the top of the newspaper I’m not actually reading. I can't help myself from stealing glances at her, and even when I look away, my thoughts are full of her. Everything about her is just too distracting.
"What gave it away?" She snaps, turning her eye to the lights on the ceiling and letting go of a shaky breath.
Rhea looks comfortable in an oversized chair with her feet tucked under her and not a care in the world. I’m not sure the last time she flew anywhere, but she acts like she does it all the time. Claire, on the other hand, looks like she has to remind herself to breathe out through her nose so she won’t pass out.
"Pale face,” I snicker. “Although it's very subtle given your usual pallor."
“Well, we can't all be bronze Gods, now, can we?" Though she snaps that response, too, there’s no malice in her words. In fact, they’re almost reverent.
My lips quirk the tiniest bit at her referencing me as a god. I have no delusions of divinity, but her word choice is pretty telling of how she sees me. "Someone's feeling extra sassy this morning." I flip a page and shoot another glance at her in time to see her fingertips tighten on the armrests.
"Someone got no sleep and then was forced onto a plane to travel across the world without a passport.” She speaks fast like she needs to get the words off her tongue, and then her tone changes to pleading. “What if they put me in jail? I won't do well in a regular jail, let alone a Costa Rican one!"
I laugh again, but this time Rhea decides to put her out of her misery. She stands and crosses to the minibar. "You have Ambien up here, right?"
"The cupboard above your head," I tell her.
Rhea rises on the tips of her toes to open the door and, after a moment, finds what she’s looking for. She shakes the pills into her hand, puts them back, and then crosses to Claire. "Here. They'll help you relax and catch up on sleep." She passes them to her friend along with one of the mimosas Elize poured before takeoff. Claire only hesitates a moment before accepting it, tossing them on her tongue and following with a long sip from her cocktail.
Clearly, she trusts Rhea with her entire being, which turns out to be a good thing for her because, after just a few minutes, she already looks calmer and less inhibited. She’s finally able to chance a glance out the window of the plane to watch as golden light floods through the clouds.
I excuse myself to the bedroom to take a call while Rhea curls up with her sketchbook again. Jovich answers on the first ring like usual. "Morning, boss."
"Did you come up with anything?" I ask.
"Jack went to visit your friend in Marsh Harbor.” It’s a statement, but it almost sounds like a question. I’ve grown used to his accent, but on occasion, when I’m waiting for him to get to the point, it grates on me. “The kid let him in and said he hadn't talked to Davos in years."
