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“Then why hasn’t he even been to see me? Like, he can leave me little notes and then pull that stunt at the funeral, and then nothing.”
Three days had passed since Rhylie’s funeral. She’d been cremated and scattered at Beyond Heaven. A memorial plaque had been etched and placed with so many others. That was when I saw Remi last. He’d held me up when my legs failed to do their job. Against the material of another black sweatshirt, his heart raced against my spine as I leaned into him and his perfectly pressed suit, both of us hurting and needing each other more than we’d ever admit. Then the funeral was over, and so was our moment. I hadn’t seen him since.
“Like, where is he right now? Aren’t you guys having a pizza night?” I could smell it cooking. “He’s part Italian. He must like pizza.”
“We invited him, but he’s busy.”
“Doing what?” I questioned Dec with venom in my stare. “What could he be doing that’s more important than spending time with his family?”
“He’s doing good things.” Jolie smiled. “With Ollie spending more time here, a few low-rank traffickers have broken off. Remi has stopped their plans for any new auctions. He’s also rescued nine women from other masters.” She air-quoted.
That was a great thing. So, I couldn’t even argue about it.
“Don’t be disheartened, Cat.” Ollie winced over his poor word choice. “You asked for space. He’s giving it to you because he thinks that’s what you want.”
“When has he ever listened to what I say I want? What I want is for him to be here, forcing me to accept that he’s gonna share the bed. His arms around me and his voice in my ear, telling me this is how it’s gonna be and that I have to accept it. Because you know, maybe he did brainwash me, maybe I am conditioned. But maybe I just don’t want to lose another really important person. But he’s not here, and I already have enough to grieve for. I feel weak, and it’s frightening, and he’s not here. He’s never here.” I wiped a stray tear with my blanket and hid my face behind it, feeling mad at myself for letting it fall. “None of you check on me at night. I could die at any point, and he wouldn’t even know about it.”
I saw Woodrow angling in Ollie’s direction, a guiding look on his face.
“I can’t.”
“Tell her,” Woodrow pushed, struggling to hold in the secret.
“Tell me what?”
“Tell her.”
“None of us check on you at night, Cat, because Remi stays with you.” Jolie was the one to blab. “He sits with you from midnight to sunrise, and then one of us switches.”
“Remi visits me at night? Like before?”
“Well, he doesn’t drug you this time around, but you’re already taking enough shit these days.”
Ollie shot Dec a warning, and he zipped his lips, giving me time to respond.
“I’m pretty sure he only did that once.”
“Oh, that makes it okay then.” Dec laughed. His phone pinged, constantly getting new messages about Remi, who had blown up since the show I almost stole by almost dying on the stage in his arms.
I ignored Dec’s phone because Remi’s fans often sprouted hate for me. About how he could do better—how I looked funny with my big lips, peculiar eyes, and messed-up body. One even went as far as to hope I’d died. She thought that would give her a shot at becoming the next Mrs. Cole.
The phone pinged again, grating on my last nerve.
“Check it.” I nodded to him.
“It won’t be anything awful, Cat. I blocked those people.”
“Oh, please, Dec. There are new ones daily.”
“People on the internet can be assholes. Ignore them.” He took his time, staring at the screen. I knew how his fingers moved when he had to block a person, and they moved that way now, twice. “The majority is about the charity gig next weekend.”
I didn’t push to know what didn’t fit into the majority percentage.
“I didn’t think he’d do another show,” Jolie shrugged.
“He misses performing. He might not admit it to us, but he does. I saw some clips online of his last show. You could see it on his face,” Ollie said, and I agreed, nodding my head.
I couldn’t ask anything of the charity gig, too wrapped up in the fact that Remi had been visiting me all along.
