Page 241 of Remy

“I’m pretty sure the person who killed the victim isn’t meant to attend the service, let alone his sister.” I raise the bottle of Jack toward my mouth.

She launches her black clutch at me, hitting me in the face before I can take a mouthful.

“Fuck.” My head flings back on impact, the smack of pain striking the bridge of my nose. “What the fucking hell, Abri?”

The clutch falls to the floor, skittering across the tiles.

She bats her lashes. “Sorry, I should’ve calmly advised you how pathetic it is to be drinking before noon on a weekday, but you seem a little slow this morning. Shock therapy felt like the better option.”

I rub a hand over my nose. “Do I need to call security?”

She barks a laugh. “I don’t think Bishop would approve of me being escorted from the building.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate it more than having you thrown out the window, which is what I’m currently contemplating.”

She sighs, her pristine posture slumping. “Rem, come on. You loved that man. And I’m pretty sure you loved his daughter, too. So you’re going to that funeral. You need to pay your respects.”

The throb across my face descends into my chest.

My love for both of them hasn’t changed tense just because Carlo is dead. The emotion is still present. Not in the past. If anything, it’s more adamant now than it ever was.

Abri rounds the island counter and gently takes the liquor bottle from me. “You need to say goodbye.”

I scrunch my nose, fucking despising the thought. “And you need to go back to D.C. and mind your own business.”

“I understand you’re hungover, so I’m going to say this one more time with a little more context, just because God knows you’re acting like you have half a brain right now.” Her brow furrows in pity. “Bishop is currently double-parked out front. Matthew and Layla are in the car. We’re all going to the funeral. That means Salvo and Lorenzo, too. And Valenti and Russo. Carlo was part of the family, and we support our own.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, the sting from her accessory abuse increasing instead of lessening. “She wouldn’t want me there.”

“Yes, she would. You’ve shared stories about her for months. I know what type of woman she is, and how much she cares about you.”

“You don’t know shit.” I slam my palms down on the counter.

“No?” She cocks her head, undaunted. “I know you blame yourself. I know you’re drinking to ease your pain. And I know that man was like the mentally stable father you never had.”

“Get out, Abri.” I growl.

“Sweetie.” She gives a condescending smile and places the bottle on the counter. “Did you hear the part where I said Bishop is double-parked? If you make him wait much longer this uncomfortable conversation is going to be the least of your problems.”

“You’re threatening me with your husband?”

“Whatever works. But you know as well as I do that once he gets out of the car you’ll be attending that funeral whether you like it or not. Probably whether you’re conscious or not.”

I glare.

I glare so fucking hard.

“Come on, Rem. This is important.”

“Do you think I don’t fucking know that?” I throw my arms out at my sides. “She fucking hates me, Abri. She knows I took her dad from her.”

“Deep down I’m pretty sure you know that’s not true. I get that you want to punish yourself—I’ve spent my fair share of months doing the same type of thing due to my own trauma. But you gave him pento, brother—you didn’t make him take it.”

“He was?—”

“Utt.” She raises a finger, imperious as she cuts me off. “We can do a deep dive on this later. I can even call my shrink and make you a virtual appointment?—”

“I don’t need a shrink, Abri.”

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