Page 28 of Devil's Queen
“You don’t get to decide for me, Rem. If I want to protect you, I’ll do it with or without your permission.”
“You sure haven’t changed over the years, you know.” I laugh. “You always did have a way of inserting yourself into situations like a bull in a china shop.”
“Can’t teach old dogs new tricks, I’m afraid.” He smiles, finally releasing me from his grasp. “What is it going to take for you to believe me?”
“About which part?” I throw back.
“All of it.”
“You have to know that taking everything you’re telling me at face value will come with doubts. Before you stayed behind, I would have believed and followed you to the ends of the Earth. The man standing in front of me, I don’t know.”
“Let’s change that.”
“How? It’s not that simple.”
“Yes, it is. You and I need to talk. To get to know each other better and catch up,” Rex suggests tentatively, his voice laced with underlying hope.
Caught off guard by his proposition, I look up at him, my heart pounding. “Catch up?” I repeat, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nods, his expression filled with a mix of apprehension and longing. “Yes. Just us. No Zulu Kings or Voodoo Queens’ bullshit. Just two exes talking.”
“Rex, I… I don’t know,” I stammer, searching his eyes for any sign that this might be a bad idea. But all I see is sincerity, a genuine desire to reconnect. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now with everything going on.”
“Dinner isn’t going to magically make your situation any worse than it is, Rem. Come on,” he insists. “One dinner. It’s not going to kill you to spend time with me.”
“Are you sure about that? What if someone from your club catches you with me?”
“If that happens, I’ll take care of it. What do you say?”
I consider his offer. A part of me wants to accept while another vehemently argues against the idea, albeit not as loudly. With a shake of my head and possibly a momentary spark of insanity, I give in.
“Fine,” I finally say, my voice resolute. “One dinner.”
Rex’s face lights up with a genuine smile, and I can’t help but feel a flutter in my chest at the sight. “Great,” he says, his voice filled with relief. “I promise, just one dinner. No strings attached. I’d say let’s go now, but Birdie is waiting for me at home. Pizza night. How about tomorrow?”
“Sure,” I accept. A part of me wonders if I have truly lost my mind for agreeing to go. I guess there’s that old saying—keep your friends close and your enemies closer. I just didn’t expect it to be over a meal.
REMY
The thoughtof dinner tonight with Rex has set in my belly like lead pellets. Despite a part of me that is excited, a much larger portion of my mind knows this is likely a mistake. The last place I need to be is alone with him, especially with how my body keeps reacting to him.
Yet, here I am after two hours of searching through my closet to settle on the outfit I’m currently wearing. My bedroom door swings wide as I’m zipping up my black calf-length boots.
“Wow, you look pretty,” my son exclaims when he enters my room. He plops onto his stomach on the end of my bed with his head propped up in his hands. “Did someone die?”
“Excuse me, young man?”
“What?” he fires back. “You only dress up when someone has died.”
“Yes, I do. Believe it or not, there are other reasons to dress up besides someone passing away.”
He stares at me intently, those deep blue eyes filled with skepticism. At seven years old, he’s already mastered the art of inquisitive curiosity. I can’t help but admire his ability to question everything, even my fashion choices.
“Like what?” he challenges.
“Well, for example,” I begin, thinking on my feet. “Sometimes people dress up for celebrations or special events.”
His eyebrows knit together in concentration as he processes my response. “Like a birthday party? Is that where you’re going?”