Page 45 of Unlikely
His confidence gives me confidence, because not only does he know Raine as well as I do, he and Raine are also so similar. The empathy he boasts about so proudly, was passed on directly from his DNA to hers.
“I feel good about this, Jesse,” I admit.
“Then I do too.”
“You’re the best, you know that?”
“Hardly,” he objects. “It’s been hard. With Leo and me,” he pauses, and I know even a simple mention of the last two years can be almost too much to handle. “Love isn’t in the business of being easy, but damn, it’s so fucking worth it.”
My eyes sting at the absolute love and reverence in his voice when talking about his husband and his marriage. Not in envy or jealousy, but with absolute respect and adoration for Raine’s fathers and their commitment to one another.
“Okay, let’s be done with the sappiness,” I joke. “I have an evening to plan.”
“I would say be sure to go all out,” he says. “But I married my one-night stand, so at this point, it’s already a sure thing.”
“Goodbye, Jesse.”
“Goodbye, Zara.”
15
CLEM
“Okay, but why is this car so excessive?”
“None of those words resemble a thank you,” Remy says as his voice comes through the speaker of the obnoxiously comfortable car.
“I called you to say thank you,” I counter. “But if I knew you were going to stay on the phone with me for the whole car ride, I would’ve reconsidered.”
He pretends to gasp in outrage. “Don’t you want to talk to me?”
“Oh, this isn’t talking,” I tell him. “You’re making sure I’m being careful with your precious car.”
When he doesn’t respond, I smack the steering wheel. “I knew it.”
“Hey,” he chides. “Did you just hit my steering wheel?”
“What are you going to do about it?” I smart. “I already have the car.”
Remy responds, but I drown him out as my eyes land on the upcoming street name. I flick my turn signal and search out the name of the Lebanese restaurant Zara texted me to meet her at. It’s a hole in the wall, and I’m relieved it’s this nice tucked-away place in the suburbs. Not because I’m hiding, but because a place like this screams comfort, and comfort right now is exactly what I need.
After trying to talk myself out of this—several times today—Nina had to practically throw me into Remy’s car. Now that I’ve had time alone to think about it, I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge that I look and feel great. I’m excited to see her, and there really is no reason tonight isn’t going to go well. As Nina so kindly pointed out, Zara and I have been speaking through text messages and phone calls for about a month. She’s already seen me naked, and she’s already made me come.
What is the worst thing that could happen?
“Okay, I’m here,” I announce to Remy as I reverse into a parking spot. “And your stupid car is in one piece.”
He chuckles. “Thank you. I’m glad you got there safely.”
I grumble, “GladIdid? Or the car?”
Getting confused on which side the power button of the car is on, I eventually press it, and Remy’s voice is no longer loud in the car but a murmur coming from my cell. I reach for it and put it between my shoulder and ear as I grab my bag.
“Okay,” I say, cutting him off, having no idea what he’s been saying for the last few seconds. “I’m going in before I chicken out.”
“You’ve got this,” he encourages, completely following along. “Enjoy yourself. I don’t want to see that car till Sunday night.”
“Remy,” I admonish, my cheeks heating. “I’ll message you later.”