40. Remi

Chapter 40

Remi

T he clear part of the eggs started turning white as I sprinkled salt, pepper, and a handful of cheese over them. Breaking the yolks, I stirred it all together with my favorite bamboo spatula.

I’d already eaten my first breakfast, checked on the crops, made sure my repair still held water, gave the re-tasked construction crew their orders for the day, and returned here to find Angie still sleeping … at one p.m.

For all I cared, she could sleep until tomorrow. Heaven only knew she needed it.

I made another breakfast, so she would wake up to the smell of bacon, a glass of fresh orange juice—well, as fresh as I could get it at Nora’s grocery—and scrambled eggs. I liked good food, and sometimes the fancy chef my mother hired cooked such weird things like duck liver and haggis, that I’d to learn to cook to allow my tastebuds to live to fight another day.

This morning, after I’d woken up beside her, I’d watched Angie sleep. It convinced me more than ever that I wanted to wake up next to her every morning for the rest of my life. It was a first for me. Sleeping with a woman without having sex. It created a tender, unbreakable bond between us, more intimate than intercourse.

My door creaked open. I smiled. The last of the liquid solidified into golden clumps in the pan. Perfect timing.

Grabbing the handle, I turned to face Angie. Her low ponytail was mussed into a lopsided, tangled mess, and her scrubs were wrinkled.

She yawned and walked toward me with sleep still in her eyes. “What time is it?”

“One fifteen.”

Her eyes came fully awake. “I’ve been here that long? I’ve got to get home. Papa—”

“Is doing fine. No change from when you left. Jared’s been with him, and I think they’ve appreciated the alone time.”

Her shoulders relaxed, and she dropped her gaze to the table. “What’s all this?”

“I thought you’d be hungry. So, I made you breakfast … well … two breakfasts. I had to eat the first by myself.” I set the eggs on the table and pulled a chair out for her.

She stood, frozen in the awkward space between the living room and the kitchen, looking at me like she saw me for the first time. Admiration. Wonder. Love. All present in her eyes.

I wasn’t a good guy. Every single woman in my past would treat me the same as Kathryn had, and I deserved it.

With yesterday’s events, I’d betrayed Angie with a notary and a stack of papers. Tony had said he’d talk to her when she returned home from the hospital. Thinking he’d be able to spare me from blame, he’d asked me to keep quiet until then.

So far, I’d kept my mouth shut. Part of me didn’t agree this was the greatest move; the other part was plumb chicken. Ironically, after a summer helping her lie, I understood that Angie appreciated blunt honesty.

I squirmed under her scrutiny. “Sit down. Eat.”

Placing two slices of bacon, a healthy serving of eggs, and a full glass of OJ in front of her, I sat across from her and began eating.

She took her first bite. “Mmm … these eggs are good.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Well, I thought you would have had a chef growing up.”

“Confession.” I set my fork on my plate and wiped my mouth with the napkins I’d folded into triangles. “What you see here is the extent of my cooking abilities.”

She laughed. I’d never get tired of hearing her laughter. We finished the rest of the meal with her quizzing me on what it’d been like to grow up as a spoiled rich boy. I kept my responses light, but to sum it all up in three words … isolated, stifling, and cold. The antithesis of Tony and Nora’s home.

Her smile took on a more playful lilt to it, yet her eyes grew serious. “Hypothetically, if I were to say yes to your proposal …”

My heart stopped. Yes. Did she say yes? I pressed my hands to the table, fingers spread wide, not daring to say anything or interrupt.

“… Papa can’t leave his bed. Would you be opposed to getting married in his room tonight?”

I jerked my head toward her. “Tonight?” From single to married in one day. Sure, I could man up and do this for her. But tonight? I forced myself to swallow, to take a breath. Certain my neck would be sore from the whiplash I’d given myself, I continued, “You’re sure. You don’t have to make this decision right now.”

If she didn’t find out about the sale until after our marriage … it’d be annulled. I couldn’t go into this marriage with a big lie hanging between us.

“I want to marry you, Remington James Cockrell the Third.” She leaned over our breakfast and kissed me.

She tasted of oranges. Her teeth toyed with my bottom lip; then she pressed her lips against mine once again. Allowing her tongue to delve into my mouth, tentatively exploring and growing bolder the longer the kiss went on, I reveled in every detail of her: sweet, strong, courageous, smart, talented, determined Angie. And she wanted to spend her life with me.

But all for the wrong reasons.

I broke free from her lips. “Maybe we should wait to make this big of a decision.”

“Wait?” She fell back into her chair.

“Why do you want to marry me? Because you love me or because Tony is dying?”

Leaning her elbow on the table, she dropped her head into her hand. Not a good sign for me.

“If I marry you … when I marry you … I want it to be for the right reasons. I don’t want to have the marriage that my parents have. Two strangers living separate lives, used for the political and financial benefits, but not the intimacy of it.”

Birds sang outside on the sapling tree that’d been placed in the center of the green lawn, caught in the quiet. Shafts of sunlight cut across the table, glaring off my fork.

“So, you won’t do it?” Angie finally asked.

I flinched at the pain in her voice. I’d do anything for her. “Is this that important to you? You’d risk marrying me so your father can be there?” I tried to pass it off as a joke, giving a half laugh and lightening the mood.

“You’re not half bad. I mean, you’re no Hemsworth …” She raised her eyebrow at me and smiled in the most seductive way, then grew serious. “Please, Remi,” she whispered.

Who the hell cared about the reasons she wanted to marry me anyway? This was the biggest risk I’d ever taken, but even if I had a one percent chance of a happy outcome with Angie, I’d take it.

“Well then, after serious reconsideration, I’ve decided to accept your proposition,” I said in my best business voice. “See my man on your way out, and he’ll fill you in with the details.”

She tilted her head back and laughed. “I have a feeling I’ll be laughing a lot more with you as my husband.” Grabbing her empty cup and mine, she walked toward the fridge. “And yelling a lot more.” She smirked. “You want some orange juice?”

“Sure.”

Husband? I pushed down my rising panic. I loved Angie and I thought she loved me. We wouldn’t have the same relationship my parents had. It wouldn’t happen to us.

“What’s this?” Angie pulled the manila folder with a single slip of paper peeking out from the front cover off the counter.

Shit. I’d been checking over Tony’s closing documents when Ryan and Gabby had called. I hadn’t planned on bringing Angie back here. I’d slipped them under the couch. Myles must have ‘cleaned up’ last night and put the folder there.

“Nothing.” I stood and rushed forward to grab it from her, but she snatched it out of my reach.

“Then why do you want them so bad?” She peeled open the front cover.

Before she could read very far, I told her what I should have told her the moment she walked into my living room. “It’s the closing documents for buying a parcel on five hundred and forty acres belonging to Tony and Nora Johnson.” Each word pounded the nail in my coffin.

“These are signed.” She flipped through a couple more pages. “And notarized.”

The folder slipped from her fingers and papers flapped onto the floor, scattering at our feet. I couldn’t meet her accusing glare. Couldn’t bear the way the light in her eyes faded into dim betrayal.

“What?” She croaked. “What happened to ‘marry me and I won’t buy your farm’? Did you mean anything you said? Or were you playing me from day one?” Her voice rose until she all out shouted at me.

A vice clamped around my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. I was going to lose her. How could I make her see? “No. I didn’t lie about loving you.” I held my hands up like I would around a live bomb. “Tony’s going to talk to you about his decision. It’s your father’s dying wish. How can I deny him his last wish?”

“A dying man’s wish that fits so conveniently into your agenda.”

I couldn’t think of anything to say to defend myself.

She shook her head and kicked the papers on her way to the door. “I’m not going to let this happen. You sick son of a bitch. You manipulated my father, who is not in a clear frame of mind, to get what you want.”

“It’s not like that. He’s doing this for you.” I took a step toward her.

“For me?” Gripping the doorknob, she slapped her hand against her chest. “Only I know what’s best for me. Not you. Not Mama. Not even Papa.”

“Don’t leave. We can sit down and talk about this and figure it out.”

“So you can lie to me some more? Yeah, right.” She yanked open the door. “You knew about this last night, and you didn’t tell me. You let me cry in your arms. And in a crazy turn of events, you’re still the bad guy.”

“You needed sleep. And Tony asked me to wait to tell you until he had a chance to talk to you.”

“I was so stupid for trusting you. Forget about me, forget about my family, and leave us alone.” She stepped outside, slamming the door behind her.

I followed after her only to stop at the edge of my lawn and watch her disappear into the corn, which was now taller than me.