The Dare Collection: March 2018. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.
I’d needed proof that she only saw me as short-term fling material, this was it. Obviously I wasn’t to be privy to her family dealings, not when we had a clear expiration date.
A date I’d deliberately brought forward today.
I hovered at the door like a goddamn sneak, long enough to witness their happy reunion. Abby had forgiven her mum. She’d accept the patisserie. She’d be welcomed back into the family fold. Who knew? She might even find some other rich prick from her social circle to hook up with.
Wasn’t any of my concern. That ache in my chest had to be heartburn from downing three steaming espressos at the hospital.
In a way, Abby’s decision made things easier. I’d had a gutful of being second best growing up. This time, I wouldn’t stick around to be anyone’s second choice. Never again.
Leaving them hugging and in tears, I backed away from the door. Time to hit the road.
When I strode into the kitchen, Remy was flicking through one of Abby’s notebooks, covered in her flowing scrawl and overflowing with recipes cut from newspapers and magazines.
I’d teased her about the many notebooks lying around her apartment. She’d said it was her thing, to let it go, but I’d loved watching her sit in her favourite armchair, idly flicking those pages, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, as a small satisfied smile played about her mouth.
She loved her job and it showed. She’d be a great pastry chef, good enough to give Remy a run for his money. Good luck to her. Pity I wouldn’t be around to see her success.
‘What happened out there?’ Remy flipped the book shut and laid it on the bench. ‘Abby sounded upset.’
‘It’s her mother.’
Remy gaped at me, like I’d announced a visit from the Queen. ‘She’s here?’
I nodded and jerked a thumb over my shoulder at the front of the patisserie. ‘They’ve made up.’
‘Good for her.’ The concern clouding Remy’s eyes didn’t dissipate instantly. ‘That family has a lot to make up for, abandoning Abby like that.’
‘I agree.’ I made a grand show of looking at my watch. ‘Now that you’re back, bro, I’ve got a ton of work to catch up on. So take it easy. I’m outta here.’
I should’ve known Remy wouldn’t let me leave so easily. ‘But you’re coming back, right?’
I could’ve made up some bullshit story. But this was Remy. I couldn’t do it. Not to him.
‘No.’
A short, sharp refusal that hung in the air like a stinky pall. Heavy and oppressive. Stifling anyone unlucky enough to be near it.
‘You’re leaving?’ Disgust curled Remy’s upper lip. I didn’t blame him. I disgusted myself too.
‘I’m staying in Sydney but I won’t be around here to help any more.’ I thrust my hands in my pockets, alarmed to find them shaking a tad. This was it. The break from Le Miel. And Abby. ‘You’ve got it covered. I’ll check in on you at home and if you need me for anything, just call—’
‘You’re running scared. Again.’ Remy spat the words out, staccato and stabbing. ‘Let me guess. You’re not even going to say goodbye to Abby.’
Feeling like a low-life bastard, I shrugged. ‘I’ll call her—’
‘You’ll call her? How fucking magnanimous.’ Remy sneered, his loathing nothing on what I felt myself. ‘I can’t believe I thought you’d changed, that this time might be different.’
I shouldn’t ask. I really shouldn’t, but I found the question spilling from my lips. ‘Different, how?’
‘You’ve looked lighter, happier, than I’ve ever seen you.’ Some of Remy’s anger faded as his face relaxed into an expression bordering on antipathy. ‘I knew it was Abby. She was good for you. And judging by the way she lit up earlier when you walked in the door, I’d say the feeling is mutual. But you’re going to screw it up again. Run like you usually do. Pretend that you’re a big tough guy not affected by your past, when in fact it consumes you.’
‘You’re talking out your ass,’ I snapped, clamping down on the flicker of fear Remy’s accusations elicited. ‘And keep your psychobabble bullshit to yourself.’
‘No. This time you listen.’
I’d never heard Remy like this, his tone low and lethal. Ice cold. Chilling.
‘Dad did a number on you. I get it. For some unknown reason he hated you, and I’m sorry I wasn’t around enough to figure it out earlier. But he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more, so why are you letting him?’
I gaped at Remy in open-mouthed shock. I’d never spoken to him about Dad. Had gone out of my way to put on a brave face the few times Remy was home to eat dinner with us. Had deliberately pretended I was fine while he chased his dream and I lived at home with a monster that blamed me for every bad thing that had happened in his life.
I could deny it now. But what was the point? Besides, it might do me good to offload some of the bottled-up crap, considering I was screwing up with Abby because of it.
‘How did you know?’
Remy slumped, aging before my eyes. ‘The day before Dad died I came home early. Heard you two arguing. Heard some of the stuff he said to you...’ Remy’s voice broke and he cleared his throat several times before he could continue. ‘I hated myself for not knowing, for not being more aware. I was going to talk to Dad about it, and to you, but then he had that heart attack the next day and it seemed pointless dredging it all up when you seemed so relieved.’
‘Best fucking day of my life.’
Sadly, it could never trounce the worst. The day I’d overheard my parents arguing, the day I’d learned why Dad hated me, the day Mum had been so upset she’d driven off in anger, swerved off the road and hit a tree, dying on impact.
Remy’s eyes glittered with realisation. ‘Did he ever hit you?’
I shook my head. ‘Not punches, just the good old-fashioned wooden spoon on my ass, but the rest was worse...’ Then it all came bubbling out, like a lanced boil, filled with putridity. ‘He grabbed me a few times, rattled the living daylights out of me while yelling the usual abusive crap. About how I looked like Mum and that was a constant reminder of how he’d made the worst decision of his life to marry her.’
My chest heaved with the effort of subduing sobs. ‘But he didn’t stop there. Because tolerating his crap and me asking what was behind his hatred was like uncorking a genie bottle; unfortunately for me, vitriol appeared and I sure as hell didn’t get any wishes.’
I wanted to tell Remy all of it but I couldn’t. If he looked shattered by my partial revelations, the rest would undo him completely and I couldn’t be responsible for that.
A derisive chuckle, devoid of amusement, exploded from my mouth. ‘When you were around, he behaved normally. When you weren’t, he heaped praise on you and acted like I didn’t exist. When he wasn’t accusing me for being as useless as Mum, that is. I pretended like the constant put-downs meant nothing. That I was impervious to whatever he said. But even now, I still think I’m not good enough. That people can see through me to the unworthiness beneath...’ I sounded broken, frail, and it mortified me.
I’d hidden everything from Remy, had not wanted to worry the brother I idolised. Remy had been my rock, the one constant in a crappy childhood. For him to now know how badly I was fucked up... I should’ve felt better, finally confessing, but it made everything one hundred times worse.
‘Fuck, I’m so sorry, I had no idea...’ Remy’s voice hitched and his face crumpled as he swiped a hand across his eyes. ‘Why didn’t you tell me—?’
‘Not