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The Remy I’d come to know was too attentive and obsessive for this to be a fling. Flings were founded on detachment, and Remy was anything but. Unless the attachment was somehow part of the dating game for him, which would frankly be sick and twisted.
But anyone would agree that I didn’t know Remy. Maybe he was sick and twisted in ways I’d not yet discovered.
I spiraled on like that as I brushed my teeth and freshened my face. By the time I was through, Remy was dressed and ready to go, leaning against the front doorframe, spinning his keys around his finger.
Waking from lovely, perfect dreams really was the worst.
It was a beautiful day, though it was nearly gone, dusk creeping in behind the sun as it disappeared beyond the horizon. Neither of us said much, just enjoyed the wind and the sky and the brief joy, our fingers entwined in his lap. When he pulled up to the house, my smile faded. I suspected I wouldn’t see that smile for some time.
I took a deep breath, kissed Remy goodbye, and climbed out of the Scout, watching him drive away from the front step.
It took another sigh, a second deep breath, and some muttered words of encouragement to open the door and hunt for my mother. It was a sprawling house. The main rooms had sweeping ceilings with hallways spoking the middle, lined with a dozen bedrooms. In the back was a pool with a massive veranda, which was where I found her.
She lay stretched out on a lounger in her bathing suit, sunglasses on and a large hat providing shade for her face and shoulders. With a glance in my direction, I saw her chest rise and fall heavily. She closed her book and stood.
“I’m here as you requested,” I said when I reached her.
She pulled on her kimono. “Yes, well, you must have been quite busy to have taken all day to finally come.”
“Despite you being my mother, I’m not obligated to answer your summons. I’m not even sure what there is to discuss that wasn’t said last night. Or did you have more names to call me? Have you told Father yet what a whore I am? I’m desperate to know what he thinks.”
She paused, watching me incredulously. “What on earth has come over you?”
“I had the nerve to spend the last week saying exactly what I thought, for once. I’ve found it restorative, actually.”
“This is all to do with that man. And what of Henry?”
“What of him? He brought a date to the wedding, Mother. Still, he’s never so much as crooked a finger at me. If nothing else, I’m glad to have finally seen us for what we are. Friends.”
“It’s preposterous, Jessamine. Ever since you were little?—”
“—you and Father and everyone else have groomed Henry and me for each other. I have been prepared, reminded over and over again how perfect we are, how well suited we would be. But nothing has come of it, despite all the hopes you’ve pestered me with since I was still in a nappy.”
“You just have to?—”
“Oh my God, Mother! I just have to nothing.”
She was silent for a beat. “And this is all for your little fling?”
“No.” I sighed, taking a seat and dropping my head to my hands. “I mean, yes in the sense that I now know how it feels for a man to truly need me. But no. I...I can’t stay here, and it’s not as if he’s coming to England anytime soon. We’re resigned to the facts.”
Something in her loosened, her shoulders unbuckling just a touch. She sat opposite me and took off her sunglasses.
“No, you can’t stay here, and he’s hardly suitable,” she said softly, never realizing what a shit she sounded like even when she was gentle. “You’re quite certain about Henry?”
“Mother . . .” I groaned.
“Yes, all right, all right.” She eyed me over a pause. “You truly don’t intend to continue to see this Remington?”
My face screwed up in frustration. “I feel you should know that if things were different, I absolutely would. I’d see him and perhaps even get arrested again. Maybe I’d even move in with him. What would you say, Mother, if I moved here to live with him in the quaint little cottage you’re so fond of? What would Father say if I married him?”
There was a sequence of blinking and mouth gaping as she tried to grasp what I’d said. “You couldn’t possibly.”
“I suppose we’ll never know. But it’s not for lack of wanting.”
“Well, then, I’m glad we’re leaving.”
“I’m sure you are.” I was instantly exhausted, despite having slept all day. “I understand why you’re like this. I hate it, but I understand it.”
