Perfect Together Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 130022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 650(@200wpm)___ 520(@250wpm)___ 433(@300wpm)
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“You okay?” Sah asked, watching him closely.

“I’m fine,” Remy lied.

“You down here by yourself?” Yves asked, his gaze sliding over the folded paper on the table.

“Your mom and sister are still sleeping.” He turned his head to Yves. “I’m surprised you’re not.”

“Sabre dragged me out, telling me I should run it off rather than get up in Grandma’s shit again.”

“Though, that was fucking epic,” Sah remarked, reaching to the coffee.

“Hear me now, don’t hold me to it later, your brother is wise,” Remy joked to Yves.

Both quirked grins at him.

Then Sabre’s eyes returned to the paper.

They came back to his dad. “Was Pépé here?”

“He left to get you guys beignets.”

“He give you shit about Yves?”

“No,” Remy said and looked again at Yves. “He says homosexuality has been around since before recorded time, so it’s entirely natural.”

Yves didn’t hide his surprise including enunciating it. “Whoa.”

“He and I still would like you to lay off your grandmother,” Remy went on.

“The marital affairs crack was not on,” Yves clipped.

“She’s a dying woman hiding behind her lipstick. You’re a vital young man with your whole life ahead of you, and your mother was standing there looking like she was about to be called to film her next scene with Brad Pitt. Maybe cut her some slack?” Remy requested.

“You’re totally hotter than Brad Pitt, Dad,” Yves told him.

“I’ll take that as an informed opinion,” Remy quipped.

Yves busted out laughing.

“What else did you and Pépé talk about?” Sabre butted in.

Remy leveled his eyes on his oldest boy who he saw was unamused.

He regarded him a beat before he asked back, “When’d you get so fucking smart?”

“He knows we have the House the first day. Why’s he getting beignets?” Sabre pressed on.

Yeah.

Fucking smart.

“He told me something I didn’t know. That we’d left Mom four times in his efforts to get her to stop doing what she was doing. I remember being in France with him, and Mom wasn’t with us. I was just too young to know why we were there. All my life, we went there often, so it wasn’t entirely out of the norm. Though, I do remember going to school there for a couple of months when I was in first grade, which was not normal. The final time was a couple of years later. The last straw and he made that clear. She promised she’d stop. Then I told him something he didn’t know, she didn’t stop. He was understandably pissed and he’s taking a drive to cool off.”

“He…took you away?” Yves asked.

Remy reached toward the coffee pot to give himself a refill. “Apparently.”

“Well, damn,” Yves muttered.

“Do you believe him?” Sabre queried.

Having filled his cup, Remy put the pot back. “I remember explicitly being in France. And with this brought to mind, I remember my grandparents being there and being pretty damned attentive. Uncle Luc and Aunt Francesca coming to visit frequently. I also know I have an affinity with Uncle Luc, and in some senses Aunt Francesca, because we’re family and they’re great, but also because Uncle Luc had little patience with my mother. Aunt Francesca just avoided her, though she made a point not to avoid me. When Mom was around, they’d take me on a lot of excursions, pointedly leaving her behind. But Uncle Luc…”

He shook his head, caught the fact both his sons were watching closely and listening to every word, allowed himself a private moment to let it settle what great fucking kids they both were, then he carried on.

“Looking back, he actively disliked her and would shit-talk her, doing this to her face. Mostly in French, which she knows a little of, but never became fluent since Dad translated for her all the time. But I knew what he was saying.”

“Always liked that guy,” Yves murmured.

“How do you feel about all that?” Sabre inquired.

Before Remy ate one of his last oysters, he said, “I need to think on it.”

“He loves you, Dad,” Sabre said.

Remy swallowed and paid even more attention to his son.

“I know he does,” he replied.

“No, I think that was why I was so pissed at him,” Sabre said. “Because, you know, he looks at you sometimes and his chest gets all puffed out. And it’s like…like…if I look at the sidelines after I make a goal or I see you after I’ve made an important pass, that’s how you’re looking at me. And I thought that was all bullshit with Pépé, because you can’t love someone and let them…”

Sabre didn’t finish.

So Remy said, “I know.”

“But, you know, if he took you away. If he thought…I don’t know. He loves her too. Like, a lot. But he left her and that kinda freaks me out because she’s always been a pain, and he puts up with it. But he left her. For you.”

He did.

Four times.

“And he always remembers we like beignets,” Yves said quietly. “It’s tradition. First day, the House. And second day, Pépé takes us to CDM.”



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