Page 158 of Remy

I get why he doesn’t want to tell me. It makes sense in a shitty kind of way.

So I let him think his secrets remain hidden. I’ll give him that final wish—at least until the heartbreak wears me down.

“How are you and Remy getting along?” he asks Saturday morning after Lucy leaves to get coffee and donuts.

I focus on the picture of Mom framed and mounted on the wall, buying some time before another deceitful dance.

The truth is, I haven’t spoken to Remy since Monday night. Five days without contact that feels more like five months.

The sick part is that I miss him.

“Don’t worry, Liv. I know.”

I struggle to keep my blank expression in check. “Hmm?” I feign indifference. “What do you know?”

“I’m sick. Not stupid. Whenever Remy has business to take care of I always try to glance out the window to make sure there are no issues, and numerous times I’ve seen your car in the parking lot with you sitting there, watching.”

My stomach rolls. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I guess it brings me comfort to know he trusts you enough to have you hanging around.”

I sit stunned, somehow still surprised by all the duplicitous cogs my father has spinning. “You weren’t worried?”

“About you seeing a dead body?” He snorts. “Do they bother you all of a sudden?”

I’d been referring to the criminal implication. The threat to my existence.

“You’re grown now, fragolina. Obviously you felt the need to be here and Remy allowed it, so who am I to stop you?”

I return my attention to Mom’s picture as I blink the burn from my eyes. It’s hard to understand how he can trust in my safety under these circumstances. But when I think about Remy, I guess I hold the same trust. There’s something about him that makes me feel protected, and it’s not only due to the ring dangling from my necklace that remains hidden under my clothes.

“With that same maturity and professionalism in mind,” he continues, “I’ve decided I’m going to give you the opportunity to take over the business for a while.”

I expected this, had predicted a rough timeline of events, but even with the foresight my throat tightens at the thought of working without him.

“Chemo is knocking me around this time, and I need a longer recovery period.” His smile is solemn. “The experience will do you good.”

“But I don’t know nearly enough about the ins and outs of your role. I wouldn’t have a clue how to even pay our staff.”

“Ivy knows the drill. I’ve been teaching her more about my job over the past few months.”

Of course he has.

“You’ve got this all worked out, don’t?—”

A knock sounds at the front door, cutting me off.

“That must be Lucy back with brunch.” Dad hesitantly shifts to raise from his recliner. “She mustn’t feel comfortable using her key.”

“Don’t move.” I quickly push to my feet. “I’ll get it.”

I don’t want to get it. I don’t appreciate having an audience to the dwindling amount of time we have left. But thankfully, Lucy has been great at busying herself when Dad and I are together.

It’s not Lucy who steals the breath from my lungs when I open the door though.

“Ollie,” Remy says in greeting against the backdrop of the mid-morning sun.

He looks entirely casual in faded grey jeans and a white T-shirt that clings to an impressive set of pecs, his hair mussed. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in anything other than a designer suit, and I’m stunned.

---