Perfect Together by Kristen Ashley

“Love you too, Mom,” he grunted in mine.

We broke apart, I cupped his face a second, he shook his head and smirked at me—so like his father’s—then I dropped my hand, turned to his dad and dipped my chin.

“Remy,” I said as farewell, intent to exit tout de suite.

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

For fuck’s sake.

Since our divorce, the man had not once walked me to my car.

In order not to make a deal of it, I nodded, smiled at each of my kids in turn, then preceded Remy through his house, out his door, down his walk and to my car.

I’d rounded the hood and was in the process of opening the door when it shut because Remy’s hand was on it.

I turned to him.

“What are you—?”

“Why were you crying earlier, Wyn?”

Ugh.

We were back here.

“I have kickoff to get to,” I reminded him. “And as usual, I’m late.”

“Won’t ask again,” he warned.

“Remy,” I snapped.

“Answer me this, are you okay?”

No, I was not.

Because not an hour ago, I’d let him go.

Now, he was being strange and maneuvering a family celebration at my house that he was attending.

And all the other.

Including the fact he was breaking up with his girlfriend.

I did not want to be the broken-hearted ex and the rebound.

I mean, blech.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

There came the smirk, and it did what it rarely failed to do.

It wet my panties.

“You have always been a shit liar,” he said.

Right.

Enough.

“I had it out with Bea before I showed,” I shared, his face went hard, and suffice it to say, Bea wasn’t his biggest fan, he wasn’t hers either and I knew he only put up with her because she was my friend. “I think I’m coming to terms with a few things about her and it’s no excuse to be late to something as important as what just happened, but that was why I was late.”

“Good you’re coming to terms with some things about that woman, so maybe you’ll come to terms with the fact that she played a role in breaking us up.”

I stared at him.

“And yeah, babe, it’d be super fucking good you finally came to terms with that,” he concluded, no longer warm, concerned and slightly flirtatious, he was annoyed.

Also, he was done.

He communicated that last by leaving me at my car and walking away.





CHAPTER 4





Poison





Remy





“I think we have more to talk about.”

“We disagree on that.”

“You need to give this more time.”

“We disagree on that too. What we didn’t disagree on, at least that was how I remember we left it when we spoke two weeks ago when I started sleeping on the couch, was that you would be out by this afternoon. And you were not.”

Remy stood in his bedroom with Myrna, who had returned.

Manon and Sabre were heading back to Tucson after the family meet.

Yves was at his mom’s.

So this could finally be done.

He fucking hoped.

“Remy, we hit a rough patch.”

Jesus Christ.

Was she serious?

“Myrna, that’s quite an understatement.”

“We can talk through it.”

“We cannot. And I’ll add at this juncture, I was never at one with watching you compete for my affection with my daughter, and I shared that. And you didn’t stop. I told you not once, but repeatedly, in that game, you would not win. You didn’t stop playing that game. But that isn’t the only reason you lose because that wasn’t the only game you were playing, and you know it. Now, you told me you needed two weeks to sort things to move out. You’ve had those two weeks. It’s Wednesday. I’m giving you an extension. You’re out by Saturday afternoon. But between now and then, it’s you who’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

She jerked up her chin in an annoyed way. “And what if I’m not? What if I intend to do what you seem like you don’t intend to do? Fight for us?”

Us?

After all her shit, she thought there was an us?

“There is no us. We’re done,” he stated. “I told you that. I told you why that is, even if you couldn’t possibly mistake it. And there’s no coming back from it, Myrna, and you know that too. But if you’re not out, I’ll move your things myself. And if it goes beyond that, I’ll inform the police.”

Her mouth dropped open before she used it to ask, “Are you being serious?”

“What, in our discussions about this, are you not understanding?” he asked.

That was when she lost it.

“How I could give you a year of my fucking life and you’re just done with me!” she shouted.

“All right,” he said, trying not to sound bored, which he fucking was and had been for too goddamned long. Until, obviously, recently. But his boredom had not gone in the right direction for Myrna. “I’ll count this down.”

“Do not—”

“One, when you brought it up, I told you straight when we met, I did not want more kids. You told me you didn’t want any either. Therefore, imagine my surprise when, one month after you moved in with me, you started on about kids. I reminded you of my views on that, which were unshakable, something else I reminded you about. Regardless, three weeks ago, you shared you thought you were pregnant. Even though, since we started, we’ve had multiple conversations about contraception, and you can’t have missed how committed I was to this considering we have not had unprotected sex by, as you promised, us both seeing to that, as you told me you were on the Pill and I never failed to wear a condom. And although both of those are not infallible, using them together and a possible pregnancy coming from that, means it’s highly likely someone isn’t covering their end. And that was not me.”