“I, too, was afraid of losing you, Remi,” Bianca admitted.
Remi paused for a moment, then she turned away from Bianca’s watery eyes. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her cry, even when her abuelita died. She’d held it together, refusing to let her guard down even then. She may have cried in private, but never in front of Remi. Still, Remi couldn’t let the tears distract her from unleashing all her hurt and pain onto Bianca.
“And now, because you both were these selfish … fucking … individuals, we all have to suffer the consequences … because you couldn’t abstain. And because of your secret, all of our lives are forever changed.”
“You’re right.” Bianca dropped her eyes to the floor.
“Was it good for you? The intimacy with my husband?”
“I barely even remember it, Rem. It was so many years ago. And I was drunk.”
“Like you were drunk the other night when you were pushing up on Leo? You wanted to screw him too?”
Bianca dropped her head in shame. And Remi regretted the words, but it was too late to take them back.
“I thought I knew you,” Remi said softly. “You were one of the only people I trusted.”
“I never stopped loving you, Remi. As my friend. As my sister.” Bianca’s voice cracked. “I messed up.”
Remi exhaled long and slow, then turned away, gripping the edge of the countertop to steady herself. “I don’t know what to do with this,” she admitted.
“You don’t have to do anything today,” Bianca said gently. “Or tomorrow. Or ever. I just needed to say it. You deserved that much.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was heavy. Finally, Remi broke the silence. “I need space. I need some time also.”
Bianca nodded. “I’ll go. I can probably get a flight out as early as morning.”
“You can stay until morning.” Remi said. “But then you have to go.”
Bianca turned to leave the kitchen.
“Bianca.”
She turned.
“If you really meant everything you just said,” Remi said in a composed but distant voice, “then give me the dignity of rebuilding without you watching.”
Bianca nodded, tears falling. “I understand.”
Remi stood still, listening to Bianca’s slow strides on the staircase.
She thought she would feel healed once she heard the truth, but she didn’t. She didn’t feel lighter, either.
All she felt was anguish.
Chapter Seventeen
Remi
Remi didn’t move from the doorway for a long time. The weight of what happened the night before pressed on her chest like a stone. A part of her wanted to crumble to the floor and cry. Another part—the stronger one—stood upright, steady. She had survived the truth. The kitchen clock ticked loudly. A pot of coffee she’d brewed earlier sat on the counter, untouched. She poured herself a cup anyway, hands trembling slightly. She walked out to the sunporch. The sun was brighter now.
She pulled the afghan tighter around her arms and sat down in one of the wicker chairs, legs tucked beneath her. This porch had been her refuge throughout a few summers but had somehow managed to bear witness to several stages of her life—joy, grief, hope, now betrayal. She had shared wine and dreams with Gerard on this same porch. Now, as she sat here alone, what she felt was anger toward him. He had been her everything. She knew him better than she knew her own self—loved him with every fiber of her being. He was the yin to her yang, and even when he’d messed up with Iris, she’d forgiven him.
In the distance she could see Leo making long strides toward her house. She tried with all her might to still her heart—which seemed as if it were going to burst out of her chest. She tried to get herself together before Leo saw her falling apart.
He stepped onto the porch. “Good morning.” His smile was bright like sunshine, which was what she needed.
“Good morning to you,” Remi said, attempting to make her voice smile, though her face wasn’t smiling at all.