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“Don’t like the service, then shut the fuck up and move on. We all have lives to live and you trying to take advantage of this smart woman because your cheap ass won’t buy your own damn cookie is despicable.”
She blinked several times with her mouth hanging open, her face turning bright red, before looking back to the counter where Remy had her drink waiting. The woman grabbed the coffee and stormed out of the café while screaming, “Well, I never!”
The few other patrons in the café had turned to watch the spectacle.
He chuckled and walked over to greet Remy, who was visibly shaking. “Hey, baby. You okay?” he asked. The endearment slipped from his mouth as if he had called her that all his life.
She looked up at him with wide doe eyes. “That was mean.”
“Yeah, she was a bitch. I’m sorry she spoke to you like that.”
“Yes, she was, but what you said was not very nice either.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, surprised by the turn of conversation. He’d just stood up for her and she was calling him mean?
“She was obviously having a bad day. I think you really hurt her feelings. You should never talk about a woman’s weight. We don’t know her life. Maybe she’d just found out her husband was cheating on her. Maybe her dog died.”
“Maybe she is just a racist piece of shit who gets off on putting other people down,” he said defensively. He wasn’t sure why she of all people would defend someone like that.
“Maybe. But you never know.” After a moment of awkward silence, she said, “I’m not good with confrontation. I should have said thank you. I know you were trying to stand up for me, and I’m glad you feel that way. I just wish you didn’t have to be so unkind about it.”
“At least I didn’t punch her,” he joked, thinking of ‘Handsy’ at the bar. From her horrified expression, his little Dove didn’t find an ounce of humor in his comment. “It was a joke. I would never lay a hand on a woman, no matter how much I may be tempted … Are you afraid of me, Remy?” he asked, searching her eyes for the answer. She should be, but if she was, he would be devastated. Because if this pure sweet woman didn’t think there was hope for him, then there wasn’t.
“I’m afraid for you.”
Each word was an arrow shot through what was left of his tattered heart. It was as though she had already found a way in, reclaiming parts of him that she had no business resurrecting.
* * *
Later that night, they set up the telescope under the canvas of stars splattered across the sky. The moon was waning, still bright enough for them to see without the use of a flashlight once their eyes adjusted.
He moved over so that she could have a turn with the equipment. It gave him time to admire the way her lips curved upwards when she spotted it. Even though she was the one looking into the sky, staring at her was pure heavenly beauty.
“What’s this one?” she asked.
“Lyra. It represents the lyre instrument. It’s comprised of nine stars and planets. The brightest star is Vega, Alpha Lyrae, which happens to be the fifth brightest star in the whole sky.”
“What’s the story?” she prompted, sitting back to look at him, her eyes sparkling with interest.
“Lyra is the lyre of Orpheus. He was a poet and musician in Greek mythology. When he was young, the god Apollo gave him the golden lyre and taught him to play it. He was known for his ability to charm anyone, or anything with his music. He saved sailors from sirens, and helped his buddy Jason and the Argonauts.”
“Sounds like a great story.” She smiled.
“Not really. He was married, and his wife tried to get away from a dude who attacked her. She fell into a pit of vipers and died.”
Her hand flew to her mouth in shock, as if these were real people she was concerned for. Goodness and compassion oozed out of her every pore. “Was that the end of the story?” she asked. His Dove, always brimming with hope.
“No. He played such a moving song of grief after finding her body that even the gods took pity on him. He went to the underworld and made a deal. He was supposed to walk out of there, with her following behind, back to the land of the living without turning around until they both crossed over. Then, they could be together again,” he explained.
“Oh, so they got their happy ending after all?” Her hand rested on his, sending blazing heat throughout his system. All it took from her was a spark and he burned hotter than the sun.
He struggled with whether to tell her the truth or not. Those brown eyes were full of possibilities, wishing for a happy ending. She was the embodiment of what fairy tales were made of while he was a Greek tragedy.
“Yeah, they made it,” he lied, leaning back and admiring the black canopy above filled with countless other stories that all ended in heartbreak and death.
She laid her head on his chest, and he wrapped an arm around her. He had never done this with a woman before. Women provided him a physical release, nothing more. Everything with Remy was different. She fit against him like she was carved from his body. Yes, he craved her, but it was more than that. He didn’t want to rush things and ruin it. He wanted to draw this out and enjoy every moment of it—while it lasted.
He never thought in a million years he would be here. What he did know was that right now, he wasn’t worrying about his past, or stressing over what job Joe was going to have him do next. Remy gave him peace. He would cherish every moment with her, because nothing good in his life ever stayed that way.
