Page 100 of Remiss

Every word. “I’m sorry, what?” She held up one of her hands. “I was just wondering what color nail polish I should get at my next mani.”

“You’ve turned into such a cold-hearted bitch!” Ophelia cried. “No wonder your marriage is falling apart.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Meggie said with a wave of her hand. “If you’re through talking to the air since that’s the only thing willing to listen to you, I’m going to check on Gunner and Blade.”

She stood, but Ophelia laid a hand on her arm and stopped her.

“I love my brother. Zoann and I are his only sisters left, and I won’t turn my back on him again.”

“In theory,” Meggie retorted. “In practice? That Harley rode out the gate when Cash opened his stupid mouth and aligned with Johnnie.”

“Cash isn’t stupid,” Ophelia gritted.

“Cash is a moron,” Meggie said flatly. “I don’t care if you like it or not. It doesn’t matter if you agree. It doesn’t change the facts.”

Ophelia blinked rapidly, then folded her arms. “I talked to him, okay?” she shouted, swiping at an angry tear. “I talked to him, and he told me that when Tarmac was born, something fundamental inside him changed. He had a child to carry his name and he wants to protect that child at all costs. He begged me to understand. I don’t, though. I try. Stretch is so furious with him, they might be headed for divorce. My family is disintegrating, and I don’t know what to do. Cash won’t listen.” She glared at Meggie. “So Miss Genius Know-it-All, what now? I’ve talked to him about the way he treats Winnie since Tarmac was born. I’ve talked to him about how he deserted Christopher. I’ve fucking talked to him about it all and it didn’t help! He’sstill against Christopher. He’s still running our house like it’s a fucking boot camp. I don’t know what’s invaded him in these last few months.”

Johnnie. Meggie didn’t know how he’d gotten Cash on his side, but she knew Johnnie was the reason for his most drastic changes.

“So, Meggie with answers for everything, tell me what’s the next steps in your big brain arsenal. Obviously, you have the answers for everything except your own fucking marriage.”

Meggie couldn’t top Zoann’s comeback to Ophelia about marriages, therefore she wouldn’t waste her breath. She smiled coldly. “Do you really want to hear what’s next?”

“I asked the fucking question, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Meggie confirmed. “When I get home, I’m telling Diesel to kill Cash.” She looked Ophelia up and down, ignoring how the color leeched from her face and her mouth dropped open. “That should solve the problem, wouldn’t you say?”

Ophelia reached for her, but Meggie backed away. “Meggie, wait—”

“Have a good night,” she said, and stormed away.

“Meggie!”

She kept walking.

Her bedroom was fuckinggray. Headboard, bedding, walls, and carpet. The door leading to the bathroom was a darker gray.

Bailey had lost her fucking mind. Or, maybe, Kendall lost hers because she’d chosen this monstrosity, thinking it would be a change from the monochromatic scheme throughout most of the house.

But, Jesus, this room was gloomier than the rest of the house. A Scottish moor with a gray fortress plopped in the middle of a cloudy sky was brighter than this.

Staring at the ceiling—as equally gray as the rest of the suite—Kendall sincerely wished Mortician wasn’t so devoted to Bailey. She didn’t fucking deserve him. He was the bright light in all their lives and Bailey was trampling his feelings.

Bitch.

However, he was devoted to Bailey and shewasRoxy’s daughter. For better or worse, that made her one of theirs and Kendall wouldn’t allow another woman to fuck up what Bailey was doing perfectly well on her fucking own.

Kendall made a face and huffed out fumes of wine. Her allegiance was to Mortician, but she’d protect his marriage even if it meant protecting his wife on his behalf.

Otherwise, Bailey could fuck herself.

Turning, Kendall curled up but couldn’t get comfortable. The evening had annoyed her to no fucking end. Between Ophelia and Gypsy, she didn’t knowwhoneeded a goddamn punch more.

Growling, she sat up, leaned over, then turned on the fucking gray lamp, certain if Bailey could’ve found a fucking gray lightbulb, she would have. She reached for her phone to pull up photos of her husband and children, then remembered she had a burner. The only images she had of her family were the ones she conjured in her head.

Tears rushed to her eyes, but she gritted her teeth. She refused to shedonemotherfucking tear. Especially over that fuckhead.

The brainless blond.