I shrug. “Can’t put the baby in it until I pick her up from your wife, and wearing it is better than carrying it.”
He chuckles with a shake of his head as I come to a stop directly in front of him.
“What are you still doing home, dude?” I ask. “Isn’t this the busy season in your line of work? I thought the Mavs had a home game tomorrow.”
“They do. But Nick came to pick Lex up for the weekend, and I wanted to have breakfast with her before she went.”
Despite my suspicions over this rich fucker at the beginning of my sister’s relationship with him, I’m happy to have him around. He’s been a good husband to Win and an even better dad to Lexi, even if I did think he was a prick with ulterior motives in the early days.
I still don’t completely trust that shitbrick Nick Raines, but that’s probably because I dried too many tears my sister cried over him when he left her and Lex to fend for themselves.
For all intents and purposes, since he moved back to New York and shacked up with my ex-fiancée, he’s been nothing but a doting father. The fuckface.
“I have to tell you, when Thatch first started texting me a whole bunch of bullshit about you taking over for Zach Galifianakis in The Hangover 4, I thought he’d accidentally gotten into Cassie’s pot stash or something. But yesterday’s dinner, and now, this look…” He lifts his eyebrows with a chuckle. “I’m seeing it.”
“Thatch has been texting you about me?”
“You and Izzy.” Wes laughs. “And yes, he’s been texting me and pretty much everyone else in Manhattan, I’m sure. You can’t tell me that after all these years of knowing him, you’d expect anything else after you showed up at his office with a baby strapped to your boobs.”
My sigh is exasperated amusement. “Great.”
“Look at it this way, dude, he’s officially enrolled you in his contest for DILF of the Year. Last I heard, you were a contender, too. Though, don’t get your hopes up. He names himself the winner every fucking year.”
“What? You’re full of shit,” I snap, and Wes laughs again, turning to open his door and toss his briefcase in the passenger seat of his sporty little BMW two-seater.
“Dude, do you even know Thatch at all? How is any of this a surprise?”
I shake my head. “I guess I’ve just never been the one in his sights before.”
Wes reaches out and claps me on the shoulder with a wink. “Welcome to the fold, brother.”
I give him a salute and a wave as he rounds the trunk to the driver’s side and climbs inside, firing up the engine.
I jog up the steps to his house as he pulls away and lift my hand to ring the bell before thinking better of it—if Izzy is sleeping, I don’t want to wake her, and a lot of times, she dozes off after her first morning bottle.
Moving my knuckles to the wood surface of their door, I knock instead, pulling my phone out of my pocket and scrolling through it just in case I’ve missed any messages from Maria while I wait.
There’s nothing from her, but there is a new message from Cleo, much to my chagrin.
C: You know what they say? Diving is a leap of faith, and gravity will be there to finish the job. I hope you’ll enjoy the fall, my dear.
What the hell?
Me: Cleo, hun, you gotta cut the shit. You know the rules.
Her answer is immediate…almost as though she already knew what I was going to say.
C: When it comes to love, there are no rules. You know that better than most. But I’ll take my leave for now, my love. Reach out when you need me.
I know what she’s trying to do, but I refuse to acknowledge it. Instead, I scoff, laugh a little, and shove my phone back into my pocket, just as Winnie answers the door with a big smile on her face.
“Heeeyyy there, Rem,” Winnie singsongs. My baby sister is brilliant and vibrant and loving and kind and a whole list of incredible things. What she isn’t, unfortunately, is subtle in any way, shape, or form.
“Hi, Winnie,” I greet, keeping my voice neutral in a way that I know for a fact gets her goat. “How was Izzy last night?”
“She was great. No problem whatsoever.”
“Fantastic. Thanks again for keeping her.”
“And where is the lovely Maria? Did you guys have a good night last night?” she asks, her voice making it apparent she is desperate to be in the know. She is practically bursting from the inside, waiting for me to give her any kind of idea of how things went.
“She had a few showings this morning, so Izzy will be hanging with me for the day,” I tell her, bypassing the question she wants me to answer the most on purpose.