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“I hope so. I like your nails—how they are always painted lilac.”
“It’s Woodrow’s favorite color.”
“Remi likes pink.”
“I have some pink gels, too!” Her thick hair hid half of her pretty smile.
“I’d really love for you to do them for me and anything else to make me feel pretty.”
The book closed with a gentle thud, taking the pretty chapters from my view.
“Come on. Let’s go doll up those fingers and toes.”
And that was all it took for her to leave the book behind on the giant chair and pull herself out of it. She returned a second later, taking the book with her to place it back in its slot on the shelf because the cats couldn’t be trusted with her prized possessions.
And neither could Dec, she explained, saying that he also liked what he referred to as her smut.
We spent hours in her room, talking about the boys—and even the guilt that went along with wanting to be with them after the stuff we’d gone through. Dec and Ollie’s voices interrupted occasionally, mostly Ollie’s, complaining that Dec was scrubbing the paint wrong and chipping it.
Jolie finished up, and my nails were done and sparkling. She fluffed my hair after styling it with some peculiar-looking heated tool that actually belonged to Dec. She smiled, pleased with the result, telling me I looked gorgeous. I wasn’t sure I believed her, but it still made me feel nice to have a compliment from another woman and not a sneer.
And then I was here, waiting on the couch, a borrowed picnic basket full and ready to go at my side.
My eager body moved to the edge of the couch, and the door opened. My breath hitched, stalling in my lungs as the aroma of Italian food and something sweeter welcomed the boys home.
Dec had helped me make dinner after my pamper day and his day of scrubbing the bathroom. The food smelled okay, but how it tasted was another story, because, the truth was, neither of us knew our way around the kitchen. Jolie had helped, too, but she knew how to make one dish—and it wasn’t Remi’s favorite.
All that considered, their help was beyond appreciated, as the only thing I’d have made would have been a mess if it wasn’t for them and for Ollie, who shadowed behind each of us, cleaning it all up.
Meows sounded out around the room, four excited creatures rushing to the door—the smallest, struggling to keep up. Each one darted around the long legs of the men entering.
Jolie spun from her chair, her knees wobbling as she stood. “How did it go?”
“Well, the drive was long as fuck, but we got back a little while ago. I had to stop at Beyond Heaven,” Remi explained. “My apologies for keeping you both apart longer than expected. Come, check him out.”
Remi stepped aside, smiling at me as he revealed Woodrow with some kind of collar around his neck.
Ollie, who’d been in the giant chair with Jolie, steadied her as she took her first step forward. She continued on wary legs, giving Remi a questioning glance as they passed by each other. He nodded, regarding something I had no idea about before positioning himself between Dec and me, both now standing, watching, waiting to hear Woodrow’s voice.
It was meant to sound like him, replicated through videos, and funded by more dollars than I could ever count.
“Childish,” Dec sneered.
“Fuck you,” was Remi’s cold response, but his touch felt warm on my skin, and his erection made itself known as he pulled me closer. “Good day, Dream?”
“Better now.” I smiled, ignoring the admission that he’d been to Beyond Heaven, and he smiled, too, kissing my cheek softly. “I missed you.”
“I always miss you.”
Jolie approached Woodrow, her fingers shaking as they made their way onto his stubbled cheek. He clasped his hands around her.
“Your hands are cold.”
They both laughed, and I felt wrong—invasive, towards what looked too intimate a moment to be shared with the entire house.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and the voice sounded so different. Southern and deep and raspy and kinda beautiful. Kinda like Remi’s. More like a man and not a robotic replacement.
“Oh, my God.”
