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She disappeared, and since he had his phone in his pocket, he took that opportunity to call his dad.
It wasn’t a long call, but it was a disturbing one.
Guillaume tried to be positive, but Melly was also now reporting in, and Remy knew that it seemed Colette had been holding on for Remy and his family’s visit.
Now, even if it had only been a few days, the news was it seemed she was declining rapidly.
Remy knew it helped his father hearing from his son.
In the end, Guillaume didn’t offer to pass the phone to Colette, and Remy didn’t ask, which was probably a relief for them both.
It was even darker now, so Remy moved to the firepit across the way where it sat between some loungers. He lit it, contemplating what they’d have for dinner, thinking some takeout would be a good idea, when he realized that Wyn hadn’t returned.
He looked to the house, seeing one lamp in the living room lit, but not seeing her there. The rest of the house, save the wine room, was dark.
He moved that way.
She was nowhere to be found, until he commenced a full search, and discovered her in his walk-in closet.
The minute he appeared, she turned to him and said, “Darling, this is dire.”
He burst out laughing.
He had a lot of clothes, because he did what he did and it included having a lot of meetings, not to mention she was his wife, and finally, he just liked clothes.
Still, it was only half full.
But it was a galley walk-in, long, but close, and very dark.
She lifted both hands in front of her, pressed them out and asked, “Can we blow out this wall, do a wee expansion of the bathroom, give you your own closet, and build an oasis for me?”
Remy stopped breathing.
She kept talking.
“And by that I mean I want a full vanity and room for expansion. I’m already at my limit with my closet, which was not good forward-thinking on my part.”
He had to push it out, so it was guttural when he inquired, “You want to move here?”
She turned fully to him. “Your kitchen, it’s cool, but a negative.” She whirled a hand at her side. “This. A disaster. But your outdoor space, pool, wine cellar and the guest suite are all positives. You also have more bedrooms and I like the sunken living room and bedroom. Mine, or our old house,” she quickly amended when she caught the look coming over his face. “The kitchen, memories, and my closet, which I’m growing out of. But,”—she flipped out both hands—“we’re all in a new chapter in our own ways. The kids off to do their thing, you and I starting over. I might want to do some painting and a bit of redecorating. It’s all very bachelor. It doesn’t have to scream that a woman lives here, but some cosmopolitan neutrality wouldn’t hurt.”
“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” he said.
“It’s going to cost a lot and I expect you not only to design the addition,” she parried. “But also be involved with the redecorating.”
Like he’d allow it any other way.
“She lived here,” he reminded her.
“She stayed with you,” she amended. “It’s always been yours. However, I fully intend to make it ours.”
Remy neither moved nor spoke, he didn’t trust himself to.
If he did, they’d be fucking on the floor in his closet, and he wasn’t sure his cleaner vacuumed in there regularly.
“I have poor girl syndrome,” she announced.
He felt his brows come together. “Sorry, what?”
“That’s what Noel calls it. Sure, I recognize I now have money. I’m comfortable. I treat myself. I live well. But it surfaces in weird ways. It makes me do strange things that don’t make sense. Like I’m totally okay buying expensive crabcakes for the kids because they love them, but I balk at lobster rolls, when everyone loves those too. But just the word ‘lobster’ triggers something in me, and that something holds me back. Like I was fighting Noel about the kind of champagne we’d serve at the wedding. I’m spending fifteen thousand dollars on a dress I’ll wear once and serving our guests champagne that cost seven dollars a bottle.”
“I already overrode your decision on that, baby,” he murmured.
He was mildly surprised that admission caused her to smile and walk to him.
She put both her hands to his chest, and he wrapped both his arms around her.
“What I’m getting at is that what you, and Noel I’ll add, have been trying to explain to me for a while, I finally understand it. I don’t know how to stop doing it. But I think it’d be a good idea if we had some kind of safe word. Like when it happens, you say ‘syndrome,’ I’ll come into the moment, and we can maybe take a time out and explore why I regressed to that place.”
