Financially, I was solid. I had a retirement account and investment portfolio that I’d thankfully never touched. Though the same could not be said for my savings account, credit cards, and the second mortgage I’d taken out on my house before the plane crash. Remi and I hadn’t been married when she’d been kidnapped. But she’d been mine, and if she’d needed something, I was the one who was going to give it to her.
God, had the things she’d needed added up fast after that too. Therapy. Hospital bills. Inpatient and outpatient programs. Even just her monthly bills when she’d been unable to continue working started to stack up. Then, after her first suicide attempt, there were more hospital bills, more therapy, more programs—each of which easily cost thousands of dollars a week and had to be paid whether I’d actually managed to convince her to stay the whole time or not. After the second attempt, I quit my job to help focus on her recovery.
All of my time, energy, and money were poured into that woman without the first ounce of regret.
Her father tried to help. Mark and Aaron too. And when things got tight, I allowed it. For the most part though, it was just me and Remi against the world.
For an even bigger part of it, it was Remi against herself.
I fucking hated the idea of spending a penny of the airline’s blood money. But from a financial perspective, it had enabled me to pay off debt and refill my savings account. Once again, I’d set myself up to give the woman of my dreams the life she deserved.
So, no, I hadn’t needed to take on a partner at Michaels & Company, but when I’d originally decided to open my own accounting firm, I had been drowning in misery and loss. Mourning a woman who hadn’t died but was gone for me all the same. Work was the only distraction I had, so making it as time-consuming and all-encompassing as possible was the only thing I could do in order to keep from self-destructing.
Holding two plates, she slanted her head to the side and offered me a tight smile. “Was that rude to ask? About the settlement money?”
I took both of them from her hands. “No. It’s fine. I received six hundred thousand dollars from the settlement. Most of it I put away, but after we talked the other day, you inspired me to donate to the families of the victims’ fund too.”
Her face flashed contemplatively, and she stalled for a minute before asking, “Wouldn’t it be easier to give that money to Sally’s family instead?”
Fuck. I internally groaned. As I did so often, I racked my brain to find an explanation for a lie. Turning on a toe, I carried our plates to the dining room. She’d already set up the table with napkins, silverware, and two wine glasses. An arrangement of her precious plants sat in the middle beside a bottle of wine.
“She doesn’t have any family,” I replied, not quite a lie but a deception all the same.
No sooner than I put the plates down did I feel her arms fold around my middle from behind. Her soft curves molded against my back as she hugged me tight. “That must have been so hard on you, handling all of her final arrangements alone after the plane crash.”
Fucking fuck me. God, I hated this part of our relationship so damn much.
I turned so I had her in my arms and gave her a squeeze. “Babe, I’m okay. I appreciate how understanding and caring you are when it comes to my past. But I’m not moving in that direction anymore. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that nothing is a given, so I’d much rather we focus on us and enjoying the time we have together. First and foremost, this meal and how you convinced Aaron to cook us dinner.”
She laughed. “There may have been some decadent Rice Krispies treats involved, but mainly he’s my best friend and lacks the ability to tell me no. I try not to use my powers for evil, but every once in a while, I get a baked spaghetti out of the deal. I wanted to make a good impression for your very first dinner at my place.”
I’d been at that dining room table countless times.
I’d watched her cry there when her father and I had sat her down and told her she needed more help than we could give her.
I’d watched her fight with Aaron, sobs of betrayal shredding her voice, before he’d gotten up and stormed away.
I’d even had that exact same baked spaghetti while I’d watched her pick at her food, unable to eat, so consumed by the darkness that I wasn’t sure if she’d ever find her way out.
But she had.
And it had taken traveling through fucking hell to get there.
So, yeah, as I dug into the spaghetti—not exactly my favorite, but she’d always loved it—I couldn’t have been happier about how far we’d come, whether she remembered it or not.
We made small talk as we ate. My work. Her client who only wanted to see houses double her price range. We made plans to take the dogs to a dog park she’d heard about nearby. I was so damn thrilled that she had fallen in love with the dogs again I didn’t care if it was the same park we’d been to at least a dozen times before.
She was happy.
I was happy.
We were happy.
Therefore, it took me a few minutes to recognize the tingling in my mouth. Maybe it was too much red pepper flakes. Spice didn’t usually bother me though. I took a sip of my wine.
“Are you hot?” Remi asked.
“Huh?” I replied, wiping my mouth when my lips started to tingle.
“Your face. You’re all red. You want me to turn the AC down?”
I took a quick physical inventory, and while I definitely felt off, I didn’t feel bad per se. “Can you excuse me for a minute? I need to use the restroom.”
She frowned, rightly suspicious. “Yeah. Of course.”
My face felt like it was on fire. There was no other way to describe it. By the time I got to the bathroom, the tingling in my lips had spread. Everything from my ears to my forehead felt like it was being stabbed by pins and needles.
It had been years since I’d had any kind of allergic reaction. While I still took precautions, I’d almost convinced myself that I’d outgrown the peanut allergy I’d had since my childhood. Though, when I got to the bathroom and looked in the mirror, there was no denying the man who stared back at me.
Fire-engine-red face.
Pouty lips.
Puffy eyes.
I unbuttoned the top of my shirt and found hives covering my chest.
And in the time it took for me to inspect my chest, my ears had joined the party, swelling to the point they twisted painfully.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
I looked like a damn ogre, but it was the least of my worries. It had never been this bad before. What the fuck could I have possibly eaten?
I sucked in a deep breath, finding comfort in the fact that my throat didn’t seem to be affected—at least not yet. Shit.
I cracked the bathroom door and called, “Hey, Remi. I need you to come here for a second.”
With my chest heaving, more from nerves than the response from my immune system, I listened to her steps come down the hall.
“What’s up?” she chirped, stopping outside the door.
“Do not freak out. I’m okay. I’m fine. But I think we should head to the hospital.”
“What!” she shouted. “The hospital? Why?” She shoved at the door, and I relented, letting it swing open.
I looked awful, but the ache in my chest was not a vanity thing. After everything we’d been through, seeing fear in Remi’s eyes ignited my adrenaline in ways a fucking allergic reaction never could.