Perfect Together by Kristen Ashley

The minute he appeared, she turned to him and said, “Darling, this is dire.”

He burst out laughing.

He had a lot of clothes, because he did what he did and it included having a lot of meetings, not to mention she was his wife, and finally, he just liked clothes.

Still, it was only half full.

But it was a galley walk-in, long, but close, and very dark.

She lifted both hands in front of her, pressed them out and asked, “Can we blow out this wall, do a wee expansion of the bathroom, give you your own closet, and build an oasis for me?”

Remy stopped breathing.

She kept talking.

“And by that I mean I want a full vanity and room for expansion. I’m already at my limit with my closet, which was not good forward-thinking on my part.”

He had to push it out, so it was guttural when he inquired, “You want to move here?”

She turned fully to him. “Your kitchen, it’s cool, but a negative.” She whirled a hand at her side. “This. A disaster. But your outdoor space, pool, wine cellar and the guest suite are all positives. You also have more bedrooms and I like the sunken living room and bedroom. Mine, or our old house,” she quickly amended when she caught the look coming over his face. “The kitchen, memories, and my closet, which I’m growing out of. But,”—she flipped out both hands—“we’re all in a new chapter in our own ways. The kids off to do their thing, you and I starting over. I might want to do some painting and a bit of redecorating. It’s all very bachelor. It doesn’t have to scream that a woman lives here, but some cosmopolitan neutrality wouldn’t hurt.”

“You can do whatever the fuck you want,” he said.

“It’s going to cost a lot and I expect you not only to design the addition,” she parried. “But also be involved with the redecorating.”

Like he’d allow it any other way.

“She lived here,” he reminded her.

“She stayed with you,” she amended. “It’s always been yours. However, I fully intend to make it ours.”

Remy neither moved nor spoke, he didn’t trust himself to.

If he did, they’d be fucking on the floor in his closet, and he wasn’t sure his cleaner vacuumed in there regularly.

“I have poor girl syndrome,” she announced.

He felt his brows come together. “Sorry, what?”

“That’s what Noel calls it. Sure, I recognize I now have money. I’m comfortable. I treat myself. I live well. But it surfaces in weird ways. It makes me do strange things that don’t make sense. Like I’m totally okay buying expensive crabcakes for the kids because they love them, but I balk at lobster rolls, when everyone loves those too. But just the word ‘lobster’ triggers something in me, and that something holds me back. Like I was fighting Noel about the kind of champagne we’d serve at the wedding. I’m spending fifteen thousand dollars on a dress I’ll wear once and serving our guests champagne that cost seven dollars a bottle.”

“I already overrode your decision on that, baby,” he murmured.

He was mildly surprised that admission caused her to smile and walk to him.

She put both her hands to his chest, and he wrapped both his arms around her.

“What I’m getting at is that what you, and Noel I’ll add, have been trying to explain to me for a while, I finally understand it. I don’t know how to stop doing it. But I think it’d be a good idea if we had some kind of safe word. Like when it happens, you say ‘syndrome,’ I’ll come into the moment, and we can maybe take a time out and explore why I regressed to that place.”

“That works for me.”

“If we do that, my hope is I’ll work my way beyond it, and eventually it’ll go away. But even if it doesn’t, we’ll both be aware of it, rather than just you, so it won’t cause harm.”

Fuck.

Fuck.

But he loved her.

“Sounds good,” he grunted.

Her eyes moved over his face before they caught his. “You gave me a beautiful life, Remy. From the moment I met you.”

“Wyn,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to hers.

“I’m sorry. It’s like a tic. Me doing that, making you feel like you weren’t giving me that kind of life.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I never, ever wanted you to feel like you weren’t giving me everything I needed, Remy. Everything I needed and much, much more. Because you did, you do, and you do it in a way I know you always will.”

“I just want you to be happy.”

“One thing’s for certain, you always gave me that. Even when we fought.”

That made him smile.

“I love fighting with you.”

She started giggling. “Honey, I know. You pick fights so we’ll fuck.”

He started moving backward, toward the bathroom, which would lead them toward the bed.

And he asked, “What would piss you off right about now?”

She stopped giggling and burst out laughing.

He loved that sound.

So he decided not to piss her off, and instead, listen to it.

But when she was done, he didn’t delay.

He dragged his wife to bed.





Epilogue