With her head still resting on her lounger, she holds my phone out toward me, and I take it from her hand, looking down to find a new notification on the screen from C.
When I glance back at Maria, I see that she’s already back to her lazy snooze in the sun, and I find myself opening the message to read it.
C: Tell me, Remington, how does it feel to be in love again?
And for the first time in I don’t know how long, I actually text her back.
Me: Like coming home.
Friday, November 15th
Maria
“Maria? Earth to Maria?”
I look up from my laptop to find Tonya standing there, staring at me with a curious look on her face.
“You were, like, a million miles away, huh?”
I smile, embarrassed. “I guess I’m still in vacation mode.”
It’s only been a day since Remy and I got back from the Bahamas, and I’ll be honest, the last thing I felt like doing was coming into the office this afternoon. The only thing that made me feel better about it was that I basically spent the whole night cuddling Izzy and kissing her sweet little face off.
And since Remy and I were able to tag team our schedules today, I didn’t come into the office until he was done with his work stuff, so that Izzy could stay with him while I touch base with my staff and try to catch up on everything I’ve missed while we were gone.
“It’s fine.” Tonya grins. “And I just wanted to let you know all the contracts on the Nolita penthouse for the Tomlinsons have been signed, and the closing is set for three weeks from Friday.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Tonya.” Somehow, during my getaway, Daniel managed to find a place Mrs. Tomlinson loved enough to put in an offer. It’s honestly a joy to see him thriving in his position within my company and a relief for me, too.
She starts to head for the door but pauses and flashes a wink in my direction. “By the way, I’d still be in vacation mode too, if I got to take trips with that sweet, handsome-as-hell man of yours.”
And then she’s back out of my office and heading toward her desk. Completely unaware of the word bomb she just dropped at my feet.
Man of yours.
I don’t know what it is about those three words, but they urge a twinge in my chest. They make my head turn all weird and uncomfortable.
I mean, I’d love to say that Remy is my man, but truthfully, I have no idea what we are.
Like…at all.
You’d think, when two people who spend as much time as we have together, who are basically sharing their lives with each other at this point, we’d have at least talked about what it is we’re even doing by now.
But we haven’t.
Maybe there’s a reason it’s never been discussed…
I try like hell to shake off the doubts that come with that line of thinking, but it feels like it takes a Herculean effort. I mean, Remy isn’t exactly Mr. Long-Term Relationship. Hell, he’s had exactly zero long-term relationships since his failed wedding all those years ago.
Not to mention, he’s told me what he thinks about marriage and settling down.
A big, fat No was his exact response.
Instantly, my head and heart start to war with each other. On the one hand, my heart is all You love him. You’ve always loved him. But my brain? Well, she is being incredibly cautious…and skeptical. All you’ve been doing is playing house for the past couple of months with exactly no guarantee of a commitment.
Is that what we’re doing? Playing house?
My chest grows tight at the thought, and I can’t stop myself from thinking about Izzy. Especially the consequences of something like that for Izzy.
This is a little girl who lost her parents before she was even born. It doesn’t seem fair to put her in a situation where she gets attached to a father figure who inevitably won’t stick around.
Actually, it feels pretty fucking cruel.
Surely that’s not what Remy would do, though, right? I mean, he’s a good man. A kind man who has done nothing but be there for me during the most difficult time of my life.
I don’t know why my head is a clusterfuck of landmines, but I decide now isn’t the time to ruminate on all this shit. If anything, I just need to have a conversation with Remy. An actual conversation where we discuss what it is we’re doing, and no matter how scary it might feel, that conversation needs to occur sooner rather than later. That’s for damn sure.
Eventually, I convince myself to focus on the last few items on today’s to-do list, but I only manage two more priority tasks before my cell starts vibrating like crazy on my desk.