Perfect Together by Kristen Ashley

What she was wearing right then was as casual as it came.

Unless she was nude.

“Your father has arrived,” she announced grandly as she hit the kitchen.

“Daddy!” Manon cried and then she was on him.

And since his daughter heard the doorbell, knew it was him, and she had never in her life hesitated rushing him, shouting his name, and falling on him, he gave her a hug, murmured in her ear, but looked at his two boys who were also in the room.

Both darted their attention back and forth between him and their mom.

They’d left her to get the door for their own reasons, which Remy was seeing aligned with his.

Good to have additional evidence they hadn’t raised idiots.

He felt his lips tip up and Manon jumped back from him.

He looked down at her, forgetting for a second he had a number of motives for why he’d arranged them all to be there, and since he’d arranged it, he’d added one more.

Her mother was the most gorgeous woman Remy had ever seen.

But damn, did they make a beautiful girl.

“Are you going to pop the cork?” she asked. “I’m dying.”

“I don’t know, precious, you’re underage. We’ll have to ask your mom.”

She blinked in confusion.

Yves burst out laughing.

“Stop being difficult, Remy,” Wyn demanded with unveiled exasperation, having put the whole length of the massive, very long, not as wide but still wide, island between them.

“Hey, Lucie,” he greeted the woman who was shifting this way and that on the island, enough food there was no way in hell the five of them would get anywhere near going through it all.

God, he missed Noel.

And that amount of food was all Noel.

Remy’s dad came from wealth.

His mom came from wealth, even if, by the time it got to her, it was mostly gone.

Remy’s dad worked far more hours than he spent with his wife or son to make more wealth.

And considering the fact both of them had made a deal with the devil and drove a hard bargain seeing as the devil met them each in turn and realized he’d met his match, they were unlikely to die until Remy had long since kicked it.

But once they did, they were going to make his kids very rich.

Wyn, on the other hand, had grown up on a small farm.

Her dad worked the land but also worked as a janitor in an automotive parts factory. Her mom worked reception for the local dentist. And still, with four kids, they barely made ends meet.

They were also the kindest, gentlest, most loving human beings Remy had ever met (outside their daughter), and when they both passed, Remy grieved twice, losing them and having to experience the agony of watching Wyn do it.

But near on their whole lives, they were two steps up from dirt poor.

Wyn had never washed that taste from her mouth. Not sipping wine on the Seine. Not declaring ouzo disgusting on Crete (the moment he discovered she hated licorice and all things aniseed).

When he met her, he’d been fucking around going back to school to get his architect’s degree, trying to prove a point to his father, at the same time knowing eventually he’d give up as his father suspected he would and goaded him about incessantly. Then he’d be swallowed by his family’s company.

It was meeting Wyn that had lit the fire in his belly to make something of himself to show her, but also show his dad.

To follow through with something.

Something important.

But most of all, to build a life with his hands, his work, his ideas, all things his. A life he would give to her where she could stop carefully unfolding the paper around flour packets so she could be certain to save that half a teaspoon that got caught in the folds.

He’d never, not once, mistaken he was who he was because of Wyn, and no small part of that was when they made their family and she let him work. She’d given him time and space to test the lengths of his ambition, and best them, then reset them, while she took on the work of their home and their kids.

In return, they both had built a life where she didn’t have to worry about the flour packets.

But he’d failed in his mission to eradicate her innate need to do so.

“Hey, Remy,” Lucie replied.

“Looks fantastic,” he told her.

She shot him a smile then turned to Wyn. “I’m taking off. We’re recycling, yes?”

Wyn nodded. “But do you want to stay for a glass of champagne?”

“I’d love to, but it’s a banner Sunday. I have another job on the go. I have to check on them.”

“Oh!” Wyn chirped. “My God. Sorry. Okay. Thank you for taking us on.”

“I will never say no to you,” Lucie replied.

Remy knew why she wouldn’t.

She’d been a woman with a dream and a food truck.

Noel had been to that food truck. And since that man could make friends with a gnat, he’d made friends with Lucie and found out catering was where she wanted to go. So, when they’d had the work, he’d suggested her for the job. Wyn had taken a chance. And most of Phoenix and Scottsdale’s elite had eaten her food.

And now she had more food trucks and a successful catering business.

Lucie said goodbye to them all and they all returned it with Sabre saying, “I’ll drop those trays by your kitchens before going down to Tucson in the morning, Lucie.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Lucie replied.