Page 95 of Remy

They think my behavior is because of the whole on-call van thing?

I play it cool, bridging the space to my prep table to shoot it with another dose of antibacterial spray while I internally worship the universe for having my back after all. “We’re not the type of business that can fly by the seat of our pants. There’s insurance that needs to be in place, not to mention training and ethical protocols.”

I should be consumed with guilt. Should be drowning in it. But the vibe coursing through my veins is euphoric relief.

“I know. And I should’ve known at the time, too.” She throws her hands up at her sides. “Ivy and I just had one-track minds on trying to make things easier after the whole Hugo fiasco.”

“It didn’t make things easier.” I keep scrubbing, hating myself for how I’m about to double-down and make this excuse seem legitimate. “I stayed here to work on Amisha and her baby until super-late Friday night. And when I attempted to leave at an ungodly hour, the only form of transportation I had was my bike.”

Her jaw unhinges, her mouth gaping. “Oh, fuck.”

I’m the biggest piece of shit. But still, so unbelievably relieved.

“Yeah.” I nod. “I was stuck here. And calling an Uber to a funeral home at witching hour wasn’t an option when the only drivers willing to do that type of pick-up are problematic men.”

“So what did you do?”

“I slept on the break room sofa.”

Her face falls, the weight of needless remorse staring back at me. “I’m so sorry.”

I want to replicate the apology. To tell her I’m the one who needs forgiveness. For misleading. Misdirecting. Manipulating.

I never would’ve held the van debacle against her like this. I wouldn’t have spared it a second thought if I didn’t need to use it as an excuse to hide the criminal mess that’s been compiling right under her nose.

I shrug. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I messed up. Please tell me you’ll forgive me.”

“Of course I will. I’m just tired.” I sprinkle some truth amongst the lies to soften my guilt. “I haven’t been sleeping.”

She cringes. “Yeah. I can kinda tell.”

I huff a laugh.

“Do you want a hug?” She spreads her arms wide.

“Oh, hell no.” I take a retreating step, the thought of comforting contact shooting my remorse skyward. “I’m fine. Honestly. It’s just been one of those weeks.”

“It must be contagious.” She lowers her arms and cocks her hip against my prep table. “Ivy’s had a tough break the last few days, too.”

“Why?” The memory of her forlorn greeting Wednesday morning comes back to haunt me. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Allison scrunches her nose. “I caught her mid-breakdown in the catering kitchen a few days ago. She said it was family stuff but didn’t elaborate. That’s kinda why I’m here, breaking the do-not-disturb decree. I was hoping we could mend bridges for her sake, too. She needs you.”

God, the guilt.

I’m such a horrible friend.

“I’m dragging her out tonight for booze and bad decisions.” Allison bats her lashes. “Do you want in?”

I open my mouth, poised to relay my trademark emphatic refusal, but something niggles in the back of my mind, giving me pause.

Someone, to be more precise.

“Where are you headed?” I ask.

Allison’s expression brightens. “I haven’t picked a destination… but if you’re on board, I’m happy to take suggestions.”

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