Perfect Together by Kristen Ashley

I knew I’d never forget that particular Gastineau scrum.

I knew Remy wouldn’t either.





Of note…

Colette did not wake up early the next morning to say goodbye.





CHAPTER 31





Adulting





PART ONE





Wyn





“I can’t help but think this is a bad idea.” Noel’s voice came from the speakers in my car.

“Simultaneous meets, and we’re both done,” I replied. “We can reconvene when we’re finished, and it’ll be behind us. No fretting about the next one coming.”

It was the weekend following our return from New Orleans.

I was on my way to Bea’s house to have a conversation.

Bill was at Remy’s house because Myrna was heading over there to have a conversation with Remy.

She didn’t know Bill was going to be there, but I demanded that Remy not meet with her alone. He saw the wisdom of this and not only didn’t put up a fight, he thanked me for the idea.

Bill was going to hang in the guest suite, give them room.

But he’d be close, which made me feel better.

“No, that’s the good part,” Noel said. “What I mean is, talking to Bea by yourself.”

“In the end, it’s between her and me,” I reminded him.

“That’s debatable,” he replied.

“She’s the worst with Remy. Kara gave up on her long ago and really doesn’t care whether their friendship continues or not. She’s already decided to ghost her. And Bernice agrees that she has her own private things to say. Further, it isn’t cool, ganging up on her.”

“Do you think she’s considered for one second if her behavior is cool?” Noel asked, then went on before I could speak. “I’ll answer that since the answer is obvious. No.”

“It’s the right thing to do.”

“Correct,” Noel agreed, surprising me. Then he explained, “But there are people who don’t deserve the right thing because they haven’t earned it.”

“You still have to do the right thing, honey,” I said quietly.

“Ugh,” he groaned, which was his form of capitulation.

I changed the subject. “Let’s talk about the wedding for a second.”

“Right, let’s, because I’m way more annoyed about that. Remy has given me carte blanche.”

“Noel—” I began.

“No. You’re nickel and diming things. You can’t be wearing an Oscar de la Renta wedding dress and serving Costco champagne, for God’s sake.”

I hadn’t suggested Costco.

However, what I’d suggested wasn’t far off.

“I—”

“Wyn, this poor girl syndrome thing has to stop.”

I blinked at the road.

Noel kept speaking.

“I’m not going to be stupid about things. You guys are rich but you’re not billionaires. We’re not talking ridiculous. But Remy said you couldn’t have the wedding you wanted the first go ’round, so he wants you to have what you want this time. And that’s not only what you’re getting, it’s also what you’re letting him give to you.”

Letting him give to you.

Letting Remy give it to me.

“I’m doing it again,” I blurted.

“Tell me about it,” he retorted.

“No, I mean pouring the wine back into the bottle.”

“Sorry?”

“I have poor girl syndrome,” I told him.

“Uh, I hate to be common, as you know, but there’s no other response that fits as well as this one. No duh?” he asked. “We’ve only had this conversation fifty thousand times.”

That was an exaggeration.

But that didn’t make his statement untrue.

“It upsets Remy,” I shared.

Noel finally cottoned on to how important this bent to the conversation was.

“He needs to feel like he’s taking care of me,” I went on.

“That’s what you do for the people you love,” Noel said carefully.

“It’s more with him. I need to do better at not pouring the wine back in the bottle.”

“First, gross. Never pour wine back into the bottle. But Wyn, what upsets him is not only that he wants to feel like he’s taking care of you. It’s that, since you haven’t let that go, since you haven’t settled into the life you two built together, a life that’s impressive and by no means one where you have to horde wine or anything, it probably feels like he’s failed at taking care of you all along.”

Oh my God.

Yes.

This.

This was precisely what triggered my husband three years ago.

Noel was still talking.

“However, most importantly, although this is about him, it’s also about you. We all can’t blow every penny we earn, but you don’t do that. Neither of you do. Not even close. But you splurge on a five-thousand-dollar bag without blinking, and don’t use Ziplocs.”

“That’s about the environment,” I fibbed.

It was, but it wasn’t.

“Whatever. You know what I mean. Seriously, pouring wine back into the bottle?”