“She always was a chatty little thing, wasn’t she?”
“And determined.” Maria grins. “She had a way of getting exactly what she wanted.”
Truth be told, that six-year-old chatterbox was a big reason Maria and I met in the first place.
“Speaking of sisters, how is Isabella? And your mom?”
Back in the day, both Carmen and Isabella were like family to me. I spent a lot of time with both of them. Isabella was only a few years older than my sister, and Maria and I would often let them tag along when we’d go to the movies or to Central Park.
“Well…uh…” She pauses and digs her teeth into her bottom lip. “My mom has been gone for a long time now. She died of a brain aneurysm when I was thirty.”
The unexpected news pulls at my heartstrings. And it makes me sad that I had no idea. That I didn’t get to attend her funeral or offer any kind of support to Maria.
I can’t imagine losing my mother now, much less when I was thirty. Wendy Winslow is the pillar of our family. She’s everything to me.
“Damn, Maria. I’m so sorry. I always loved your mom.”
“Me too.” Her smile is sad, and her face softens in a way that seems overly irreverent. In a way that makes me a little nervous, to be honest.
“Are you okay?” I ask, hoping I haven’t somehow said something to upset her. “Are you feeling sick again?”
“No…” She shakes her head once…twice…and then sighs heavily as it falls back to the wall of the elevator with a thud. “My, uh…my sister…Isabella…she passed away too.”
“What?” I question because there’s no way that could be the truth. Isabella was always a vibrant, sweet, and kind girl. I adored her. And to wrap my mind around the fact that she’s no longer here…it feels impossible. “H-how?”
“A little over six months ago,” she explains, and her bottom lip quivers with emotion. “She and her husband both, actually. A tragic helicopter crash when they were on their way to the Hamptons for a vacation.”
Both her mom and her sister? Fuck.
“Oh my God, Maria… I’m so sorr—”
“No.” She clucks her tongue. “Please. I appreciate the sentiment, but one sorry is enough.” She swipes one lone tear from her cheek. It makes my chest feel like it’s cracked in half. “I swear, I’m not going to get all emotional on you. It’s just…the way you talked about your sister and Wes. It just made me miss them—miss the way they were together. But I promise, I’m okay.”
Maria’s relationship with Isabella always reminded me a lot of Winnie and me. I honestly don’t know how I’d cope with something like that.
“I don’t know what to say, Ri. I wish there was something to say.”
She laughs then, and it’s startling. It’s so out of sync with the conversation we’re having, and once again, it puts me on edge for some reason.
“I don’t think even God himself would know what to say here, Rem. This…situation is far more complicated than just me losing my baby sister and my brother-in-law.”
I quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Well…” She pauses, rubs a hand over her rounded belly, and her lungs let out a deep, emotional sigh. “This baby right here isn’t my biological child. It’s theirs. Isabella’s and Oliver’s. My sister and her husband.”
“No.” It’s the only thing I can say, and I know it’s not right. But I’ll be damned if I can come up with anything else.
She nods, a little self-deprecating laugh mixing with a couple more unchecked tears. “She needed a surrogate and my uterus wasn’t doing anything.”
I know she doesn’t want to hear one particular five-letter word again, but it’s the only thing I feel like I can say right now.
“God, Maria. I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs and rubs at her belly unconsciously. “I just wish I knew what the hell I’m doing. My life has revolved around my career for the past two decades, and now, I’m supposed to figure out how to be a good mom?” She shakes her head. “I never had time to be in a relationship with someone, and now, I’m supposed to know how to take care of another human being? I mean, I didn’t think I’d ever have kids of my own. I didn’t… Well, I guess I didn’t think a lot of things.”
My mind wants to fixate on the reality that she’s doing all of this alone. Without a significant other. Without her mom. Without her sister.