Perfect Together by Kristen Ashley

Remy looked to his son. “Is his jaw broken?”

“Melisande, who by the way, is kick-fucking-ass, felt it a little bit while Manon was getting ice. She said it’s okay. But seriously, Dad, that thing broke a concrete bird bath. We should get him to the hospital.”

Remy nodded, turned on his bare foot and stalked to the door.

Sah went to follow him, but I caught his hand, “You go with them. Take Manon. I’m staying here with Yves.”

And Colette.

“Don’t get near that batty bitch,” Sabre ordered.

“We’ll be okay.”

“Mom, I’m not going any-fucking-where until you promise me right now, you aren’t gonna get anywhere near that crazy bitch.”

Damn it.

I had a few things to get straight.

I stared at my son.

“I won’t get near her,” I promised.

He examined my face.

Then he turned on his bare foot and jogged after his dad.





CHAPTER 25





Part of the Family





Wyn





Needless to say, the tailgate party was out.

After they’d left to go to the hospital, I phoned Katy to explain why we wouldn’t be joining them at the football game that day, and I did not hold back with this explanation.

I did this not only because Beau had gone out of his way to get us tickets and they should know why we weren’t able to join them, but also because we didn’t live in New Orleans, close to Colette and Guillaume.

And that scene, as hideous as it was, obviously was not unusual.

In other words, I was worried about Guillaume, and since we lived a continent away, we might need backups.

“I cannot believe my ears,” Katy hissed after I explained that morning’s goings-on (leaving out the Estelle part, but that was the only part I left out) and the fact Remy, Manon and Sabre were at the hospital with Guillaume.

“I couldn’t believe mine either, or my eyes. I don’t know how long they’ll be, but I don’t think anyone will be in the mood for football after they get back. I’m so sorry, Katy. It was very nice of Beau to—”

“Stop it, that’s the last thing we’ll be worried about today,” Katy cut me off to say. “Are you still there? At the house?”

“Yes, with Yves, who’s with his grandmother, settling her down.”

I heard something out in the hall, so I went to the door of our bedroom where I’d vamoosed to put on some underwear (at least) and opened it to see Melly carrying an empty tray to the stairs.

She gave me a tight-lipped nod.

I returned it, she moved to the stairs, and I looked down the hall to see the door to Colette’s room was closed.

I closed my own, and while this was happening, Katy asked, “Do you want me to come over? And Beau? He can come too. I can also call Jason. Does Remy need his boys?”

“I need to ask Remy about that, but I don’t want to disturb him right now,” I replied.

“Of course. Yes, of course,” she muttered.

“I’ll be in touch, but don’t change your plans. I know that would upset Remy. Though, it might be an on-call situation for tonight.”

“Beau loves football, Wyn, but he loves Remy more. So even if it’s before that, we’re there.”

I loved that, obviously.

“Thanks, Katy. I’ll keep you in the loop, all right?”

“All right, babe. Take care. And while Remy’s not around, stay away from that woman.” Her voice dropped when she finished, “Dear God. Poor Guillaume.”

“I will. Thanks for listening.”

“Anytime, and definitely let us know. Beau will be worried, yeah?”

I could tell by her voice, she would too.

“Yeah.”

We said our goodbyes, and even though I was still in my robe, I walked downstairs, into the kitchen.

I barely made it into the room before Melly, at the sink doing some dishes, said, “He made me promise not to say anything.”

I was sure he did.

I walked closer to her and grabbed a dishtowel.

“I told him he should call his son. She should get help,” Melly went on. “He told me he didn’t want anyone to know, specifically Remy. He said it was a personal thing. He defends her. Says she’s high-strung. Her upbringing was difficult.” She looked from the sink to me. “Her upbringing was difficult,” she practically spat. “Like she’s thirty and discovering herself. Not eighty and absolutely should know better.”

I made a noise of assent.

“But I should have said something,” she concluded.

“Well, we know now,” I replied softly, no recrimination in my voice, because it wasn’t her fault. They were her employers. But I could see by the line of her frame she was still tense. “And if Guillaume asked you not to, that made it very difficult for you. To be loyal to him and feel disloyal if you were to have shared.”

“I know Estelle,” she declared.

I took a mixing bowl from her, vaguely wondering what she’d made in it, and started drying it, all while gazing at her as my silent cue to go on.

“She fell, broke her wrist, found doing some things around the house difficult, and Mr. Gastineau was going over to help her quite a bit. Mrs. Gastineau figured it out and pitched her usual fits, and yes, that’s plural. So he couldn’t go. It tore him up. I heard him on the phone with her. I told him I’d go. And I did, a few days a week for about a month.”