24. Perfect Boy

CHAPTER24

Perfect Boy

Wyn

I looked up from what I was doing with Remy’s cock in my mouth, but I knew better.

My gaze going up that long body, encountering that flat stomach, that wide, slightly furred chest, that muscled neck, his stubbled jaw to find his eyes dark and on me.

Yes.

Always a mistake to look at Remy when I was sucking him off.

There was a flush to his cheekbones and absolutely a smolder in his gaze. But he and his big body were sprawled before me, head to the headboard, pillows under his shoulders, one long leg straight, the other bent and fallen to the side, like he was relaxed and just hanging out while I serviced his dick.

No matter how many times I’d done it, it always got to me.

And this was no exception.

I kept eye contact as I took him deep then sucked hard as I slid him out.

He smirked.

Really?

Time to play dirty.

This I did, sliding him back in and grasping his balls, giving them a little tug.

He grunted, then I found myself being dragged up his body. He rolled us. Kicking one of my legs aside with his knee, he used his hips to aim and then glided inside.

Nice.

I huffed out a breath.

“We get nasty when there aren’t five other people in the house, three of them my babies,” he growled in my ear as he shifted gears from gliding to starting to fuck me.

Okay, was it hotter than all that had just transpired when my husband called his grown kids his “babies?”

Don’t bother to answer.

I knew the answer.

It was yes.

“I think nasty got us two of those babies,” I panted in his ear as my hands slid to his ass.

He lifted his head, going faster and harder, warning, “Wyn.”

“Two houses, we need to double up on our sex box, baby,” I told him.

Another growl, this one with no words, definitely fucking me now as he took my mouth and spiked his tongue inside.

I arched into him and dug my nails into his ass.

He began to slam into me.

Now we were talking.

He broke the kiss and stilled, I stilled, the house stilled when we heard Colette scream, “Don’t you dare think you’ll move her into this house!” Pause, probably for a reply from Guillaume before, “Not even over my dead body! I’m leaving everything to Remy! My son will see to it that cunt will never step foot over the threshold.”

The C-word?

Whoa.

A door slammed and I lifted my hand to Remy’s jaw.

He began to focus on me, but his eyes went to the door when we heard more from Colette.

Except now it was coming from the hall.

“Don’t you walk away from me! I’m the bad guy? Me? They think I’m the villain of this story, when their precious grandpa fucked everything that moved!”

Remy pulled out, rolled off, tossed the covers over me and grabbed his jeans.

Through this, Guillaume could be heard ordering, “Go back to your room.”

To which Colette retorted, “It’s our room, Guillaume, even if you’ve far from slept every night of our loving marriage by my side.”

Remy was yanking up his jeans, and I was out of bed reaching for my robe.

“This is not the time,” Guillaume declared.

“When’s the time, my love? They’re all here and I’m dying. Remy should know my express wishes about what to do after I die while you and your whore circle like vultures,” Colette returned.

I was tugging the belt closed on my robe, and Remy was still pulling on a tee as he yanked open the door.

“Not here, not now,” he commanded, stepping into the hall. “Mom, go back to your room. Dad, you and I will—”

“You and your father, you and your father, you and your father!” Colette screeched just as I arrived at Remy’s back and pressed close.

Her gaze was on her son, and she was standing in the middle of the hall, barefoot, wearing a pink peignoir set, of all things.

“What about me, Remy?” she demanded. “As usual, you’ll go off and console your father, but what about me? I’m the one who’s dying.”

“Je m’en occupe, Remy,” Guillaume murmured.

I wasn’t sure, but I thought he said, “I’ll handle this.”

“Dad—” Remy started.

“Listen to me, Remy,” Colette ordered. “Listen closely to your mother. You do not let that Estelle anywhere near,” she slapped a hand to her chest, “my home,” she tugged at her embroidered robe, “my things. This is your home, your grandfather’s home, your great-grandfather’s home. Your legacy. And it should not be besmirched by his,” she tossed her hand toward Guillaume, “filth. If you cannot promise me you’ll do that, I’m leaving it all to Yves.”

But Remy was stuck on something else she said, I could tell by the way I felt him holding his body.

“On ira parler,” Guillaume said, what seemed like urgently, to Remy.

I knew part of that: We’ll go talk.

“Estelle?” Remy asked incredulously.

And boom.

From the way he asked that, I remembered what Remy had told me last week.

That was his father’s lover from years ago. The one he’d introduced Remy to.

She was still…?

They were still…?

Just as urgently from Guillaume, “Laisse-moi t’expliquer. S’il te plait.”

Definitely, let me explain. Please.

Remy looked to his mother. “Mom, go back to bed.”

And I pressed closer to his back when Colette’s face twisted and she shrieked, “I knew it! You always take his side! You never loved me. You and your father, you and your father. YOU AND YOUR FATHER!”

“Colette, calm down and go see to yourself,” Guillaume ordered, approaching her.

But she stepped back, not taking her eyes off Remy, so I wrapped my arm around his belly and my heart sank a bit when I saw the other doors in the hall were open.

Not that they couldn’t already hear, but our children were blatantly listening.

Listening to their father’s life growing up performed in a drama in the hallway.

“And just like your father, off fucking other women, when your wife is at home raising your children,” she accused.

Remy started to back up, I knew, to push me into our room as he called, “Kids, doors closed!”

“They should know, do you not agree?” Colette asked. Then shouted, “Don’t you walk away from me, Remy Jacques Gastineau!”

“Mom, you need to—” Remy began.

“I need to what?’ she demanded. Suddenly, she looked at me. “You!”

Remy pushed harder and I was in the room.

He was closing the door when she screamed, “You let him leave! What kind of wife are you? You let him leave!”

He turned to me.

I framed his face and ordered straightaway, “Honey, look at me.”

“Don’t you touch me!” Colette shrieked. “She wears his rings! She let him go and she wears his rings! Don’t you dare TOUCH ME!”

Her voice had been going down the hall and then the door slammed again.

His mind was to that, I could see it, so I repeated, “Look at me, Remy.”

We heard a loud bump.

And Remy was out the door, gone.

I raced after him.

“Back in your rooms,” he snarled at our kids who were now in the hall.

He shot through the door at the other end, I went in after him and stopped dead.

Colette was standing holding a heavy glass orb in her hand.

With apparent difficulty, Guillaume was trying to pick himself up from the floor, at the same time holding his jaw.

Remy crouched by his dad, but he looked to his mom. “Did you hit him?”

She shook her hair and demanded coldly, “Get out of our room.”

I dashed to Remy and Guillaume. Colette made a move toward me as I did, I skirted her easily, but suddenly Remy was there between her and me.

He yanked the orb out of her hand, and he was not gentle, but how he did it did not harm her, and she cried out like he’d assaulted her.

“Come with me to the kitchen,” I whispered to Guillaume and his already swelling jaw. “We’ll get some ice.”

“He was hurting me,” Colette claimed.

“Come with me, please,” I repeated to Guillaume.

“Come on, Pépé.” Sah was there, stronger than me, carefully helping his grandfather up.

“Oh, he’s so suave. He’s so charming. You’re all under his spell,” Colette mocked as Manon got close to Guillaume’s other side and slipped an arm around him while he held his jaw. Sabre took his weight, and they started walking their grandfather to the door. “I know what that feels like. It’s so very beautiful. Until he betrays you.”

“Grandmama, let’s talk, okay?” Yves, standing by his father, cutting her off from Guillaume, Sah, Manon and me, urged. “You can get dressed. We’ll go out. Get some chicory coffee.”

“He touched me, Yves,” she pouted.

“I’ll make some coffee, bring it up,” Yves said.

“Melisande makes it perfectly,” she sniffed.

“I’ll go get some, bring it up,” Yves pushed.

“My perfect boy,” she half-whispered, the other half was a fawning coo.

My perfect boy.

A chill went down my spine, sending out shards of pain and freezing my blood in my veins.

She’d said that to Yves before.

When he was being good, catering to her crazy-ass needs, had she said that to Remy?

Good God.

Now I understood his driving need to be perfect if this was what he was up against.

This had been his life.

This had been his childhood.

I had no idea how I kept my feet because my heart had shattered.

“Son—” Remy started.

“Got this, Dad,” Yves murmured.

“Son—”

Yves turned to his father. “Got it.”

Unable to bury my need to get my husband away from her, I went to them, grabbed Remy’s hand and tugged.

He looked down to me.

And the look on his face destroyed me.

Yes.

He’d tried to be her perfect boy.

Fuck.

It sucked she was dying because I wanted to kill her.

Colette spoke.

“I am so very sorry, Wyn, I don’t know…” I turned to Colette, who was holding her robe together at her chest, gazing about as if dazed and she didn’t know where she was, the wily, crazy, bitchface fox, “…what came over me.”

I said nothing, just looked to my son as I pulled his father to the door.

“It’s okay, Mom,” Yves said. “I’ll be right down to get some coffee.”

I studied him.

I saw he had this.

“Be very careful,” I urged.

He jutted his chin at me.

I nodded then yanked Remy out the door.

He barely got both feet in the hall before he again looked down at me, disengaged his hand from mine, and then, with his long-ass legs, he ate the distance to the stairs.

I ran after him.

I didn’t catch up, but I was only a couple of steps behind when he hit the kitchen.

Manon was holding a dishtowel filled with ice to Guillaume’s jaw. Sabre was prowling the kitchen like a cat. Guillaume was trying to pretend no one was there.

And Melisande was not messing about with putting a breakfast tray together.

Her face was tight with fury, but her movements were economical and practiced.

She caught Remy’s eyes and didn’t hesitate sharing, “She does this.” Pause and, “Too damned often.”

“Melly,” Guillaume murmured.

“He’s your son, he should know,” Melisande retorted.

Guillaume shut up.

“I can calm her down,” Melisande told Remy.

“You’re safe with her?” Remy asked.

“She only does it to her husband,” Melly spat.

“Yves is up there,” Remy replied.

She nodded, picked up the tray and hustled out.

“I have this, ma belle,” Guillaume said to Manon, trying to take the ice from her.

“I have it, Pépé,” she assured.

“My girl—” Guillaume tried again.

“She won’t leave your side, Dad. So don’t try to make her,” Remy rumbled.

I pressed my front to my husband’s side and slid my arms around him.

He wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

“Si bien,” Guillaume muttered. He lifted his gaze to Remy. “What can I say? I fell in love with her.”

“Mom?” Remy asked.

Guillaume shrugged. “Both of them.”

Both of them.

Colette and…

Estelle.

“And I met her…why?” Remy asked.

Guillaume’s gaze drifted. “I was going to leave, you see. She had stopped…with you. At least I thought. But not with…” Guillaume didn’t finish, but we all got the gist since Manon was icing his jaw.

He thought she’d stopped beating Remy.

But she had not stopped beating Guillaume.

“And she, the other, my other.” He couldn’t wring the fondness out of his tone when he referred to Estelle. “She loved me.”

“And she didn’t hit you with huge-ass glass marbles,” Sabre growled.

“Sah,” I said softly.

“So you took me to see her because…?” Remy prompted.

“I wanted to see if you liked her. We were all going to move to France.”

“When I was there, you went back to the bedroom with her,” Remy reminded him.

Our kids exchanged glances.

“Of course, she was upset,” Guillaume said.

“What?” Remy asked.

“She made a special sundae for you, and you didn’t seem to like it. She wanted you to like her. So very much, she fretted about it for days before I took you to meet her. I told her you liked ice cream, and she must have tried ten different sundaes before she settled on that one to make for you. She was upset when she thought you didn’t like her. So I took her back to suggest she give you some time, it all doesn’t happen just like that. Then I came out and we went home.”

“I thought you were back there forever.”

“You were young, everything feels like forever, especially if you’re bored and have nothing to do. We were away perhaps ten minutes. If that long.”

Remy looked out the kitchen window.

I held on to him even if my heart was breaking for Guillaume.

“Why didn’t you leave?” Remy asked the window.

“I came to my senses.”

Remy looked back at him.

“If I left, who would see to your mother?” Guillaume explained.

“Oh, Pépé,” Manon whispered, still holding the ice to his jaw but putting her head to his shoulder.

“But Estelle…she’s still in your life?” Remy pressed on.

“She loves me,” Guillaume said softly.

“Oh Pépé,” Manon moaned, still holding the ice, with her head on his shoulder, and now she turned into her granddad and slid an arm around him.

Remy stood motionless for a second.

Then he walked out the back door, down the stairs to the side of the house, and I followed him with Sah following me.

Remy stopped, transferred the orb he was still holding to his right hand, and with a brutal side-arm throw and deadly accuracy, he launched it into a bird bath, which broke apart on impact.

“I know you’re ticked as shit, but that was rad,” Sah remarked.

“He had a chance to be happy, and he took care of her,” Remy said.

I got closer and murmured, “Honey.”

“He had a chance to get away from this goddamn mess, and he stayed with her.”

Sah got closer and said, “Dad.”

Remy looked to his son. “Is his jaw broken?”

“Melisande, who by the way, is kick-fucking-ass, felt it a little bit while Manon was getting ice. She said it’s okay. But seriously, Dad, that thing broke a concrete bird bath. We should get him to the hospital.”

Remy nodded, turned on his bare foot and stalked to the door.

Sah went to follow him, but I caught his hand, “You go with them. Take Manon. I’m staying here with Yves.”

And Colette.

“Don’t get near that batty bitch,” Sabre ordered.

“We’ll be okay.”

“Mom, I’m not going any-fucking-where until you promise me right now, you aren’t gonna get anywhere near that crazy bitch.”

Damn it.

I had a few things to get straight.

I stared at my son.

“I won’t get near her,” I promised.

He examined my face.

Then he turned on his bare foot and jogged after his dad.