28. Bunny Boiling

CHAPTER28

Bunny Boiling

Wyn

“This is so fun. It’s like Cock and Snacktails without the cocktails or snacks, or being physically together and with me in attendance. And I never get to go to Cock and Snacktails,” Manon gushed at the computer screen where Kara, Bernice and Noel each had their own squares, and Manon and I were sharing one.

Guillaume had gotten us a booking for dinner. It was late, but it was Herbsaint, a restaurant I’d been wanting to try for a long time.

We were supposed to be getting ready, but Manon shanghaied me into this Zoom meeting to talk to the crew about what to do about Colette in the very little time we had left to do anything about Colette.

Manon was staunchly ignoring what was happening with Myrna. At the time Remy shared, she said only, “She didn’t hide her bitch very well, but apparently she did hide her psycho super well.”

Remy appeared destroyed that this was affecting me and the kids, so I’d given her a look and she shut her mouth.

And that was all the attention she gave it, outwardly. I’d have to take her temperature about that later.

Remy had updated me (but not the kids) that the break-in was, indeed, Myrna and that she’d been preparing to do something with some of my babies. What, we might never know. Though I was thinking that there was going to be a number of listings on The RealReal, because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to enjoy anything that woman touched.

I also wasn’t sharing the brunt of my feelings about this with Remy.

I wanted to be so adjusted I could just set it aside as her damage and move on with what we were dealing with at the present, and much more positively, Remy’s and my reconciliation.

But the woman had broken into my home.

She’d touched my things.

I wasn’t sure anyone was that adjusted.

But that was for another time.

Now, it was about the drama with Colette.

“Love you, but it’s sex night with Reed and I have some shaving to do. What’s up?” Kara started us off.

“You have a sex night?” Noel asked.

“Life happens during the week. Things get postponed,” Kara replied. “This can get out of hand. Momma needs her orgasms, and not just quickie self-induced ones in the shower, which, by the way, always irritate Reed. Somewhere along the way, he’s claimed dominion over my orgasms. He acts like a big baby every time I give one to myself. So we decided a few years ago, Saturdays were sex nights, no excuses, non-negotiable. And thus, Saturday nights are the best nights of the week.”

“Does the sex box come out?” Noel queried.

“Sometimes. And sometimes I play nurse and he plays doctor,” Kara told him. “But tonight, I’ve decided he’s been a naughty boy. He just doesn’t know it…yet.”

“I never thought I’d worship a woman any more than I worship Wyn, but Wyn’s got competition,” Noel declared.

“Since I already know about Kara and Reed’s sex night, can we talk about why we’re all on this Zoom?” Bernice pressed. “It isn’t Cor and my sex night, but I’ve just decided it’s going to be, so do you mind if we get things grooving?”

I knew without her saying Cor was never a naughty boy.

But Bernice could be a naughty girl.

“God, I love you women,” Noel murmured.

“Grandma hit Pépé in the face with a huge-ass glass marble and we thought she might have broken his jaw, so we had to take him to the hospital,” Manon shared as I watched the variety of reactions from my friends, eyes getting big, faces growing pale, brows rising to hairlines. “And apparently, this is a thing. She’s like…a husband beater.”

“Holy shit,” Kara whispered.

“So, like, Dad wants to talk to her and whatever,” Manon continued. “But Mom and I think he should just be done with her, and we should concentrate on Estelle, Pépé’s girlfriend.”

“His…what?” Bernice asked.

“Apparently, Guillaume has had a wife and a long-term mistress,” I shared. “And by that, I mean Estelle has been in his life for decades. Remy even met her when he was a child.”

After a moment of stunned silence, Noel remarked, “I will say this kind of thing is absolutely delicious when you’re watching people wearing Nolan Miller acting it out on television. It doesn’t seem half as fun on a Saturday Zoom call when you’re talking with people you care about.”

Bernice smiled.

Kara laughed.

I thought Noel could say that again.

“What do you mean, Remy wants to talk to her?” Bernice asked, thankfully swinging this conversation back to Colette.

“I don’t know, and he doesn’t either,” I told them. “But I think he thinks he can get her to stop abusing Guillaume.”

“He thinks he can, or he hopes he can?” Kara inquired.

“Hopes,” I clarified. “This is…a situation. It’s not a one-off. I…I don’t want him to…” I didn’t know what I didn’t want him to do.

Get anywhere near Colette?

Check.

Give her any more of his time?

Check.

Give her any more of his emotion?

And again.

Check.

“I wish we could just take Pépé and go,” Manon said.

I did too.

“Are you thinking of meeting this Estelle?” Bernice asked.

“Totally,” Manon answered.

I just nodded.

“Okay, that seems a little weird to me,” Bernice admitted.

“You’re not alone,” Kara replied.

“He loves her. She loves him too. They were supposed to take Dad and ride off into the sunset years ago,” Manon told them. “But Grandma got in the way by being…Grandma.”

No one spoke as they digested that.

So I did.

“Colette is a lost cause, and this would be a waste of time and emotion for Remy. She’s also dying, and the fact that this will be a waste of time and emotion for him is one of the last memories he’ll make with her.”

“She is his mother, Wyn,” Bernice noted.

I did not point out I very much knew that, however much I didn’t like it.

“Your mom is your mom,” Bernice went on. “No matter how much some of them don’t deserve it, and Colette sounds like she really doesn’t deserve it, you never give up on them. Remy will never think this is a waste of time or emotion, even if nothing comes of it, and the memory he’ll have is that he tried. He needs to do this, his way, when he’s ready, and all you can do is be there for him when it’s over.”

With that, I was reminded why I loved Cock and Snacktails nights so much.

My friends were life.

“Damn, that’s some wisdom right there,” Manon whispered reverently. “Can I come to Cock and Snacktails from now on?”

And that was life too, watching my daughter soak in the knowledge of her elders, respecting it rather than fighting against it.

To her question, simultaneously, she got three yeses and one no, the no being me, but only because she was at school and didn’t need to be driving up ad hoc every time a C&S was called.

Thus, she gave me big eyes and gasped, “Mother!”

“Until you graduate,” I added. “Though, you can come if you’re home.”

Her face cleared and she grinned. “Oh, okay then.”

There were smiles on the other Brady Bunch blocks of the Zoom call, but even in their small squares, I could see concern in their eyes for the maelstrom we were facing here in NOLA.

“We’ll be okay,” I assured them.

“And we’ll be here,” Kara replied.

Yes, my friends were life.

We didn’t dally after that seeing as it was sex night for Kara, a spontaneous sex night for Bernice, and Manon and I had to get ready for dinner. So we all went our separate ways.

I had my face close to the bathroom mirror, ass tilted, wearing panties and a bra and perfecting the tail of my winged eyeliner when Remy propped himself by his shoulder in the doorway to the bathroom.

I turned my head toward him.

He’d already changed for dinner, wearing tan pants and a black button-down that was given the full tuck, making the casual combo that slight bit more formal, which was needed for dinner.

But his broad shoulders, muscular thighs and thick hair, which had been tamed by running his fingers through it, gave his look that super dose of sex appeal.

He was beautiful. He might not be perfect, but he was pretty damned close to it.

And he was mine.

I took firm hold on that knowledge before I spoke.

“Where have you been?” I asked gently.

“Hanging with Dad. Having a chat with Melly. Talking to Bill about what’s next with Myrna. Leaving a message for Lisa to source a bird bath to replace the one I broke today.”

That was Remy, never really one to be idle or let things slide.

“Okay.”

“And making some decisions.”

Oh boy.

I turned fully to him, his eyes swept the length of me, and really, I had no idea how I’d convinced myself my husband had stopped being attracted to me. We’d had a heavy few weeks, the last few days the heaviest, and still, the expression on his face right in that moment shouted that was a lie.

“Honey,” I called when he seemed stuck in the act of staring at my hips.

His eyes lifted to mine.

“I’m going to talk to Mom, and when we get back home, I’m going to talk to Myrna.”

I decided not to say anything, and not only because I didn’t know what to say.

“With Mom, I don’t know how that’s going to happen, or what I want from it, but it has to happen,” he declared.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“With Myrna, I hold some responsibility for what she’s doing, and she needs to hear that.”

Oh hell no.

I straightened and opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, Remy went on.

“I can use what happened to me in my childhood as an excuse. I can do that with what I did to our marriage. I can do it with how I treated Myrna. But Wyn, baby, how can I sit down with my mother and talk to her about who she is to me, what she did to me, what she’s still doing to Dad, knowing a long time ago she knew it was wrong, and she didn’t find some way to stop herself from hurting people she loved. And in the now, when she’s dying, find some way to reach out to us and assume culpability for how she fucked up her entire family’s life, and not assume culpability for what I’d done in mine?”

He had a point there.

He wasn’t finished.

“I never loved Myrna, but she’s a human being with feelings, and actions speak. I let her move in. I might not have made promises, but I did have a relationship with her, and I can understand how she expected that to grow because that’s what happens.”

“In some instances,” I retorted. “In others, it doesn’t. People break up, Remy. And when they do, they don’t stalk the other person’s child or break into his wife’s house.”

“I’m not excusing what she’s done. I’m copping to my part in it.”

Why did he have to be so mature?

Well, two could play that game.

“You’re right, actions do speak, as do words,” I returned. “You made no verbal promises to her. On top of that, you told me you didn’t ask her to move in, she asked, and you let her because she was in a jam. And in the end, you didn’t ever really let her move in. All of those things say something, she just didn’t want to hear it.”

“Would you want a man who didn’t take responsibility for hurting another person? Whatever that person did, however that person behaved, would you want a man who didn’t assess his part in the situation and admit he fucked up too?” he asked.

Damn it.

“No,” I muttered.

His lips twitched.

They stopped doing that, and softly, he said, “Everyone talks about the bunny boiling. But no one says dick about the married man who started a relationship with a woman when he had no business doing it. I’m not excusing bunny boiling either. But this narrative has to shift, and we both know it. And I don’t want to be a part of that narrative not shifting.”

“Sometimes it’s hateful how wonderful you are,” I announced.

He grinned and replied, “Say that looking hot in black underwear when you’re over here.”

“There’s three feet of space between us and you have longer legs,” I pointed out.

Remy didn’t take time to consider my statement, nor did he reply.

He just erased the space, and I was glad I hadn’t done my lipstick, because the kiss he laid on me would have meant I’d have to do it again.

* * *

Remy and I were lying in our bed that night, in the dark, on our backs, both of us staring at the ceiling, and we were holding hands.

“Well, that sucked,” he said.

He wasn’t talking about the food, the ambience, or the company of that evening.

He was talking about the mood and how all of us tried to pretend it wasn’t as shitty as it actually was.

“Yes,” I agreed. “But this won’t last forever. We’ll get past it.”

He blew out a deep sigh.

“So, you know, you being adult and accountable is making me realize I’m not.”

That made him turn to me, still holding my hand, but he reached out and rested his other on my belly.

“You’re entitled to be pissed at Myrna for being a pain in the ass,” he noted, then reminded me, “You didn’t do anything to her.”

“No, I mean with Bea.”

The air grew dense around us.

“I can’t hide behind my posse with this,” I told him. “I need to face her. Me. Personally. She’s been the worst with you. I care about her. She’s my friend. But you’re my husband. She should know she’s been hurtful, she’s still being it, and I should listen to whatever she has to say about why she does it.”

“I never thought I’d say this in my life, especially after today, but now I’m not looking forward to either of us leaving here and going home.”

That made me turn to him, slide close, press closer and repeat, “We’ll get past it.”

He circled me with his arms and grunted, “Yeah.”

“We’re together and I love you.”

He pulled me deeper into his body and his grunt of, “Yeah,” was sweet this time.

We snuggled.

Neither of us found it easy to fall asleep.

But eventually, we did, which was good.

Because we had one more day in New Orleans, and there was no way around it.

It wasn’t going to be a good one.