Page 221 of Remiss
“Sometimes, I wish he was still alive. He was a hard, cruel man, but Bash adored him. My brother still mourns his loss.”
“Even men like Cee Cee can be good to someone,” Meggie said.
“Thank you for that.”
Meggie gave her a sad smile. “In the last years of my father’s life, he was a horrible person, but tome? He was my prince. My everything. He helped me when Mama wouldn’t. He was good to me. The Big Joe I remember. He wasn’t good to Christopher at the end. He got what he deserved. He would say the same thing. It was him or Christopher. My husband won.”
“He won against Cee Cee, too.”
“I know,” Meggie said softly. “If he hadn’t I wouldn’t be here. This is such a difficult situation. I sincerely wish Cee Cee had rode out of town and left me alone. For youandBash. I’m as afraid of Bash as I was of Cee Cee, but he’s human and losing a loved one isn’t easy. Grief is a long, lonely road, no matter how many other people have lost that person. Grief is still singular, expressed differently by everyone. I wish Big Joe was alive, so I can’t disparage you and Bash for wanting Cee Cee to have survived.”
Celia swiped her cheeks.
Meggie jumped up and rushed to her, hugging her tightly. She wasn’t sure why she started to cry, but there’d been so much pain and death and hurt among them. So much turmoil.
“I’m so sorry to be a downer,” Celia said. “But no one has ever comforted me over the hole in my heart. Bash tries.” She smiled. “He just isn’t in touch with tender feelings.”
“I understand.”
“Are you too sad or can we eat? I found a chicken salad recipe that I thought you might like.”
“I’d love to try whatever you prepared.”
Standing, she towered over Meggie. “Lunch is coming right up.”
Grunting her way up the back staircase, Rebel wondered why Daddy hadn’t installed at least one elevator in the house. For years, the mansion had been surrounded by a literal fuckingmoat. But a simple elevator hadn’t crossed his mind?
By the time she reached the second floor, she was overheated, sweaty, and in pain. She should’ve stopped and gother second wind, but she wanted the sanctity of her room where she could think about her visit with Rule and his friend. Maybe erase the memory of the crushing disappointment when her and Momma arrived, and the director said Rule didn’t want to see them, then found one excuse after the other to keep them in that office.
If Momma hadn’t gotten fed up and stormed out, they would’ve missed Rule. Father Fuckhead would’ve gotten him off premises before Momma and Rebel saw him.
Not only had they eaten lunch with him, but dinner, too. They’d gotten a tour of the place, saw Rule’s room, the cafeteria, and the chapel in which he spent time. They’d even seen the meeting rooms and met his care team.
And when it was time to leave Rule, he’d hugged Rebel. A real true Rule hug that soothed all the hurt in Rebel and made her near-drowning worth it. Rule was getting the help he needed.
He’d hugged Momma too and acted as if he didn’t want to let her go. She’d offered to have him moved to Portland or Seattle, but Rebel knew Momma didn’t want to push Rule, so when he said he’d prefer to stay in LA for the time being, she backed off.
Back in their private suite, Momma canceled their spa services and ordered all types of junk food for them. As they brushed each other’s hair and did each other’s nails, Rebel asked a question that had been nagging at her.
Did Momma realize the priest tried to sabotage their visit? Of course she had. Yet she’d been so fucking calm. Once Rebel saw Rule and her disappointment fell away, she was so fucking furious she could’ve knocked that little round motherfucker off the cliff.
Momma swore that all’s well that ends well. Rebel disagreed. All’s well that ended with a fuckhead fucked up for fucking with her and her family.
Huffing, Rebel hobbled forward and rolled her eyes. She’d stopped on the landing anyway.
Her icy blue peignoir with white bows swirled around her feet. Although it didn’t cover the cast on her foot, no one could see the rest of it on her leg. The robe and nightgown were one of the expensive pieces of clothing bought on Rodeo Drive. Now that she’d seen Rule, she was so fucking annoyed with herself that she’d moped through what could’ve been the shopping spree of her dreams.
Snorting, she opened the door. The hallway that led to the bedrooms loomed ahead of her. Unlike the third floor where the hallway was an homage to Mama or the square grid of downstairs, Rebel liked this one so much better. Toys, usually scattered across the floor, were in toy boxes of various sizes, many next to benches. A dartboard hung on one wall, while family photos hung on the other walls. End to end, it reminded her of a hotel hallway, just wider and homier.
Right now, it was so silent. Sometimes, Rebel welcomed the peace. The house was always busy, and her bedroom was her quiet, safe space.
Especially after Diesel stopped breaking and entering as if he had the right.
Her nostrils flared and she bit down on her lip, unablenotto look in the direction of his bedroom on the opposite end of the hall, right near the landing for the main staircase. She’d accepted that he was her brother, but she didn’t know if she could accept Jana.
She wanted Diesel happy, though.
If Jana made him happy, Rebel should adore her. Diesel deserved happiness.
