18. Three and a Half

CHAPTER18

Three and a Half

Wyn

After Remy and I unpacked, washed up and changed into clothes that didn’t smell like an airplane, we headed downstairs.

And hearing our descent, with military precision, our children filed out of the front parlor, and with Sabre handing Remy a very full glass of what looked like scotch on the rocks, they fell into formation around us before we headed toward the mural room.

Considering how they did this, I decided it best not to ask them to stand down.

Remy didn’t say a word.

Guillaume had heard our approach too, came out of the room we were walking to, and watched quizzically as the Gastineau family approached as if on attack.

Another giggle fizzed up that I had to swallow down, this one hysterical, as I braced to face the woman who had harmed my husband.

I was his wife.

I was a mother, and thus knew the nurturing he should have had, but didn’t.

And her abuse nearly cost me my marriage.

So I was obviously on edge.

But it wouldn’t do for me to tackle a dying woman and punch her in the face, so I had to get it together.

We all stopped outside the room where Guillaume was out in the hallway barring even a view through the door.

“It makes me very happy you’re all keen to see Colette,” he murmured kindly. “But I’m not certain she’s up for a visit from everyone. She, too, cannot wait to see you. But she’d prefer to do it in the morning when she always feels much better. So, if you will, only Remy and Wyn for now, mes petits-enfants.”

I opened my mouth to tell the kids we were okay.

But Sabre spoke before me.

“We’re going in with Dad.”

“Mon chéri, this—”

“We’re going…in…with Dad,” Sabre repeated.

At a confrontation with another alpha, an invisible rod slammed down Guillaume’s back, his gaze narrowed, and then I watched with grim fascination as he came to realize that his grandchildren had grown old enough to be told what had happened to their father in this house.

And I really did not want to feel it, but I was human, and the severity of the pain that washed over his features and swept through the hall couldn’t be avoided.

I felt it sluice over Remy and I moved closer to him.

His fingers sought mine, and when they found them, they gripped painfully.

I didn’t make a peep.

“Then you will be with your father,” Guillaume whispered.

I looked up at Remy to see his face was carved from stone.

He was hiding his reaction to his father’s pain, his guilt.

And…

Fabulous.

This was already going to be hard enough. We didn’t need a repentant Guillaume on our hands.

“Allow me to let her know you’re all coming. One moment,” Guillaume went on, and then he moved into the room.

Remy turned to the kids. “I think—”

“No,” Sabre cut him off.

And yes, my husband’s face had been carved from stone.

But my son’s was hewn in granite.

Manon leaned into her big brother and took his hand.

“I love you very much, Sabre,” I said softly, then took my other two in. “All of you.”

Yves’s Adam’s apple bobbed.

Without using a hand, Manon blew a kiss at me.

Okay.

Safe to say we were all on edge.

I turned back when I felt Guillaume rejoin us.

“She’s ready.”

We started to troop in, but we were stopped when Guillaume handed me a chilled glass of rosé wine.

“Something light and refreshing for now,” he said. “I’ve opened a bottle of red to breathe that you can enjoy during dinner.”

My sentiments were, Guillaume was more at fault for what happened to Remy than Colette because he was more than negligent by not putting a stop to it—he’d been complicit.

I had not prepared to be around the Guillaume that had played a large part in making the man I loved into a man I would love.

“Thank you,” I replied.

He inclined his head and we all resumed trooping in.

And I wished I had my phone so I could take a picture for Noel, because she might be a monster, but it could not be denied, even at her age and in her condition, she was still fabulous.

This was demonstrated by the vision before us.

Colette spread across a settee in a pair of satin lounge pants the color of burnt sienna.

Up top was covered in a cream cashmere duster with a thin cable knit, and I didn’t know what was under it, because she had a Dior gold silk scarf frothing at her neck.

Her feet were ensconced in slippers made of green suede with pointed toes, a matching pom on the top, but the sole was covered in soft beige fur that tufted out the sides.

Her hair was a sleek bob that curled under her jaw and was the same dark color with caramel hues that she’d had when I’d first met her.

Her face was minimally lined, these only around the sides of her mouth, and it was lightly made up. Foundation to even the tone, powder to take away shine, neutral base from lid to brow to give the eyes a lift, and a thin stream of liquid black liner with a just a hint of a cat’s eye. Mascara. A touch of peachy-neutral rouge.

And on her lips, perfectly lined and filled, was her signature flamenco red.

She was thin to the point of emaciated, but this wasn’t a concern. It was my understanding that she’d worked meticulously to remain underweight all her life, and I’d never known her to be anything but what she was right then. Though, truth be told, she did look like she’d lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose.

The room wasn’t cool, but a throw of an intricate design in shades of pink, red, ivory and burnt umber that had an impossibly long fringe at the edges, had been thrown back on the moss- green velvet settee like a production assistant had set the scene.

But it was clear it had been over her before we arrived, however, if it remained covering her, we couldn’t see her outfit.

A dainty teacup and saucer in a bold millefleur design sat on a slender wine table in front of her.

And although I could understand a visit from your family after years of not seeing them would make you go that extra mile even if you were significantly unwell, she didn’t appear fatigued or off in any way.

She looked like Colette.

Perhaps she wasn’t going to go out and drum up a game of horse, but she’d never do that anyway.

But I could easily see her ordering Melisande to bring a bottle of champagne and some cheese and crackers, and entertaining for an hour or two.

Her eyes were locked on her son.

And she failed with her opener.

Dipping her head to the glass in his hand, she drawled, “Please tell me your marital affairs haven’t led you to a drinking problem.”

Not, “I cannot begin to explain how much I missed you.”

Not, “It does my heart good to see you.”

Not, “My handsome son.”

Not even, “Hello.”

I moved closer to his side.

“Heya, Granny,” Sabre greeted with mock exuberance, and I was so jolted by his tone, I almost missed Colette’s reaction to being called Granny.

She was Grandma or, as preferred (but none of my children really used it), Grandmama.

Never Granny.

She looked mad enough to bite.

No.

This woman was going for the drama and the sympathy.

She might be dying, but she wasn’t dead yet.

I dipped my chin to hide my smile at her reaction to my son’s words as Sabre kept talking.

“You’re, you know, not well, and I looked up stuff about your condition and learned your immune system is probably messed up. Since we just got off an airplane, which are full of germs, we shouldn’t get too close.” He let that sink in before he finished, “Don’t take it wrong that none of us are gonna give you hugs, you know, like the entire time we’re here.”

I heard my daughter make the noise I swallowed down earlier as I looked up at Remy.

His lips were twitching.

Seeing that I could think only one thing.

God, I loved my son.

“We’ll take showers and everything,” Sabre started talking again. “But unless we were here for a week or whatever, so we could make sure we didn’t catch anything, and we’re not gonna be here that long, we should probably keep our distance.” He paused then said, “But you look real good.”

Colette recovered quickly and replied, “Sabre, my love, you cannot know how much it means to me you cared enough to research my…condition and move to look after me.”

“Well, you know, we heard word and we’re all super worried about you,” he replied.

“Yeah, Grandma, we’re all worried,” Manon chimed in.

Her gaze skimmed through Manon to light on Yves.

“Let me look at you, Yves,” she called.

Yves moved up to my side.

She gazed at him lovingly, which wasn’t surprising. He’d always been her favorite.

I took a sip of my wine in order not to gag.

“The vision of your father at your age,” she remarked.

“Yeah,” he grunted, and I turned my attention to him.

It was easy to forget, with how mellow my youngest was, that he could get upset or angry.

He was the latter now.

Even with Sabre’s antics, he was not over the “marital affairs” comment.

Or his grandmother breaking his father’s arm when he was a child.

“This means you’re sure to find a lovely woman…” the pause was significant before she said, “like your mother.”

“That’ll be hard, seeing as I’m gay,” Yves replied.

I went still.

I heard my daughter moan, such was the effort it took this time for her not to burst out laughing.

Sabre muttered an amused, “Jesus, bro.”

Guillaume rounded to the back of the couch close to Colette’s head, his eyes glued to his grandson.

Colette had gone white as a ghost.

“But don’t worry, Grandmama, I’ve already found a super fit, awesome guy,” Yves went on.

“Yves,” I whispered.

“What?” he asked me.

I didn’t have a response.

“I…well…you know…” Colette flitted a hand in front of her. “Boys do tend to experiment.”

“I’m not experimenting,” Yves said. “I’m like…really gay.”

“Yves, I think you better let your grandparents have a minute with that,” I suggested.

“Sure,” he agreed amiably.

“Do you know about this, Remy?” Colette asked her son.

“Hello, Mom. Sabre’s right, you do look well. I’m glad of it,” Remy replied. “And yes, I know about Yves.”

“And you’re fine with it?” she demanded.

“About as fine as I am with him continuing to breathe, which I’m sure you can guess is a lot, though I’m sensing you don’t realize it’s one and the same thing,” Remy said blandly.

Colette opened her mouth, but Guillaume rounded the couch, saying, “Melisande has prepared a lovely supper for you. I know your grandmother is tired and I’ll need to see her upstairs and make certain she’s comfortable, so sadly, I won’t be joining you. But I’ll let her know you’re ready to be served. If you’d like to say goodnight to your grandmother and move into the dining room?”

“Cool, thanks, Pépé, we’ll go there. See you tomorrow, Grandma,” Sabre said, took his sister’s hand, gave his brother a look, and with my other two mumbling their goodnights, they took off.

“Colette,” Guillaume prompted in a tone that didn’t say, take my hand so I can escort you upstairs.

It said, we talked about this.

She looked stubborn then lifted her chin, which only made her look more stubborn.

Then she said, “I’m so very happy to see you all—”

Guillaume shifted.

“Especially the two of you,” she continued, but the last was nearly spat. “Together.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Remy replied in a bored tone.

She did an up and down to me and waited for me to say something to her to congratulate her on her effort of kinda, but not quite hiding she was insulting me, but I didn’t say a word because I didn’t have any in that moment that were polite.

She then looked to her husband and lifted her hand to him.

With supreme gentleness, Guillaume took it in his.

“See you both in the morning,” Remy said, turning us and heading us to the door.

We were in the hall when Remy snorted like a bull.

Obviously, I’d heard him make the noise before, and it had two meanings, so I looked up at him to see which one this was.

It was the one which meant he was having trouble not laughing.

I smiled at him.

“I will never in my life forget Yves telling his grandma he’s, like…really gay,” he said.

I started laughing.

He looked down at me.

And proved how well he knew me.

“Three and a half more days, baby.”

We turned into the dining room, and I replied, “Three and a half more days.”