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(Sah was his nickname because his full name was pronounced the French way, “sah-bru,” soft u, rather than the English way, “say-brr,” and because Manon couldn’t say it when she was little, she called him Sah-Sah, and a version of that stuck).
“No, Sabre stepped up for Yves as an effort at deflection,” I explained to Noel.
“Why on earth would he feel the need to deflect?”
“They were concerned how Remy would respond.”
“Who was?”
Yes.
Good question.
And it was because Noel had been with me six years. Pre-divorce, and after. He knew Remy well, loved him and quietly grieved our end right alongside me.
And he never stopped sending Remy a custom-made dress shirt for every birthday (last year, Tom Ford, from Ford’s modistes) and suits for Christmas (last year, Saint Laurent).
In return, Remy sent Noel things like monogrammed sheets and Montblanc pens.
Back in the day, I’d helped Remy pick. But even after we were over, Remy had not stopped. Though Remy had excellent taste, I suspected his assistant Lisa did the ordering.
So, Noel knew the man Remy was.
And the man he wasn’t.
“All three of them,” I told him.
He nodded, but I didn’t feel he was committed to it. “It’s an emotional time, and scary. But obviously, Remy set that to rest right away.”
“No, he lost his mind and asked Yves what kind of father he thought Remy was that he’d be worried how he’d react.”
Noel stretched out his lips and said, “Yikes.”
“Then they hugged, and Manon and I started bawling.”
He nodded. “I could have called that, at least the last part, not Yves. I never picked him as batting for our side, but what a lovely addition. And when he goes on the prowl, rahrwwrr.”
I put my hands over my ears and chanted, “La la la.”
“Stop it, Wyn,” Noel chided. “You don’t do that when Sah is dating someone.”
“Only because that band-aid was ripped off when Remy caught…gulk.”
I couldn’t finish or think too long on the time Remy came over and shared he’d found our son and a girl doing things no mother needed to know her son did in his bedroom at Remy’s house.
“And I do believe you two had your five thousand two hundred and seventh we’re-fighting-because-we’re-no-longer-screwing fight over how Remy made it easy for Sabre to rid himself of his pesky virginity by giving him a”—air quotation marks, which regrettably quoted an actual quote…of mine—“‘bachelor pad within a bachelor pad.’”
“Sabre practically has his own wing of Remy’s house,” I defended.
“Boys gonna fuck, baby, girls too,” Noel returned. “Be ready for when Manon decides you’re well and truly the Mom Friend and no longer the Mom Unit, and she gives you the dirty.”
I might vomit.
“Oh my God, how have I not fired you in six years?” I asked.
“You have. I just kept coming back. You barely know how to use our phones, no way you’d be able to call in a want ad.”
Maybe now I was realizing why he never let me do anything practical. When someone made themselves your right arm and your left, you couldn’t exactly cut them off.
“Noel, do we not have work to do?” I asked, reaching for my coffee.
“We do, indeed, but spill. How was Remy with you?”
Noel lived for the day we got back together, and that wasn’t about my connections with various ateliers and how that might affect his future presents.
That was because he wanted me happy, and Remy too.
“The same,” I lied.
Noel’s shoulders slumped.
And I really wanted to tell him.
But I wasn’t about to get his hopes up by sharing the knowledge that Myrna was out and Remy was sending strange signals.
I wasn’t going there.
So Noel’s mind shouldn’t go there.
For his own good.
And mine.
“So what had you so far away?” he asked as I took a sip. “And don’t say Yves. That’s hardly a blip for you two, outside someone needing to provide the Famous Gastineau Drama before you all decided to be real.”
Vanilla latte.
Perfect.
As usual.
Honestly, I’d be lost without this man.
As for his question…
“Bea and I had a thing yesterday before I went to Remy’s.”
His face shut down.
I went alert.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said.
“What?” I pushed.
He sighed.
Then he said, “Okay, so, when I was arranging Cock and Snacktails, Bernice lost her shit…on Bea. And I’m me, and as she ranted and raved, in her sweet Bernice still ranting and raving way, I did my best to hold the floodgates, I truly did.” Two fingers went up. Then they came down. “But I failed. And Wyn, the three of you, I do not get why you put up with that venomous snake. She’s awful. And she’s never been anything but awful.”
I said nothing.
“She nearly ended Bernice and Cornell after she stuck her fangs in when Cornell screwed the pooch.”
“Cor kissed an ex-girlfriend, Noel.”
Noel lifted a hand and waved it in surrender, shaking his head at the same time.
