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He was silent for a moment. His lips pursed, and he contemplated whether or not to give in to my needs and to keep the conversation light.
Do it, please.
Let my waking nightmare end. No more rough talk. No more Rothbart or that horrible Cedric.
“Okay. In that case, I was twenty-four and no mortgage.”
“How does someone have that kind of money? This is a big house.”
“I have money.” He didn’t elaborate on the how. “You wanna go spend some of it? It can be my way of saying sorry for being the dick that I was last night.”
“You don’t have to buy me.”
“I don’t see it that way. I see it as eleven years of birthdays, Christmases, and Valentine’s Days where you should have been spoiled.” His lips tapped my nose in a gentle kiss. “Say yes.”
“Is this you leading me?”
“Maybe.”
I stilled, my eyes tearing up for the girls who’d never get this. Who’d never find a Remi in our dark world of Rothbarts.
“I don’t deserve gifts. I ki—”
“Shhh...” His breath landed on my lips, hushing me as he got even closer. His hands, again, rubbing my legs, my arms, anywhere he could touch and soothe me. “It wasn’t your fault.” Resignation coated each word. It was almost as if he was dealing with his own guilt. “It wasn’t.” His head moved from side to side before his forehead touched mine. “You deserve more than gifts, Cat. You deserve the world.”
I couldn’t say what, but something, some longstanding connection, pulled my arms around his muscular neck.
“And we’re going out into the world?”
“It’s scary, isn’t it?”
“For you, too?”
“Kinda. I don’t go out much. I’m not a people person. I’m happy here with the cats.”
“Then why now?”
“Because you deserve the world, and you deserve to see it, too. You’ve been cooped up long enough.”
“But Rothbart—”
“Can no longer control your life.”
Deep down, I knew Remi was right. I could choose to live or hide away and continue surviving. I didn’t want that. I wanted what he offered, not the gifts but the freedom.
Fear fought with excitement, trying hard to get the top spot on my topsy-turvy table full of emotional baggage. I was waiting for the legs to fall off and for me to get crushed by all the shit that had happened to me, but how could I feel that way—crushed—when I couldn’t remember most of it.
All I remembered was the last few weeks.
And they hurt.
But I had survived them. Remi was right. It was time for me to live. Really live.
Even if others weren’t so fortunate.
“I’d like to get a memorial gift. For the girls.”
“That’s nice, but we can still find something for you, too.”
