The best thing I can do for her daughter is embody her spirit.
“Isabella Olive,” I say aloud, making Remy raise his eyebrows slightly. “That’s what I’m going to name her. After her mom and her dad. Isabella and Oliver. And I want to call her Izzy.”
“Izzy.” He tests out the name on his tongue. “I love it.”
I smile then. “Yeah? You don’t think it’s too cheesy?”
He shakes his head and climbs to his feet, strolling over to look down at Izzy’s now-sleeping face. “Maybe for some other baby. Some lesser infant. But not this one,” he says proudly. “This one can carry it.”
I laugh, wiping a lingering tear from my face and smiling down at my girl. “She does look strong.”
Remy hums from right next to me, and a wave of warmth from his body settles the chill in my spine. “Oh yeah. She looks like she can do anything…” He laughs. “Aside from feed and care for herself for the next several months, that is. But other than that, she’s got this world handled.”
That makes me feel good. Confident. Like the world isn’t turned completely upside down, if only for a moment.
Still, it feels a little too intimate—too vulnerable. And I do what I’ve always done as a protective mechanism. I make a joke.
“Good thing you weren’t this into female empowerment in high school, Rem. We would have been famous for female spontaneous combustion.”
He smirks and shakes his head as he steps away and drags the chair from the side of the room closer to the bed to sit down next to me. He crosses one jean-covered ankle over the other knee and leans back into the seat. He looks so damn sexy, I swear, if my vagina didn’t hurt so bad right now, she’d probably be revving right to life.
“Oh, come on,” he denies through a laugh. “I wasn’t anything special in high school.”
“Wow,” I say with feigned insult. “Are you trying to say I was with a dud?”
“Obviously. That’s probably why you’re still single now. I scarred you for life.”
I blow out a humored puff of air and rock the baby in my arms on instinct as she starts to whimper. “Oh yeah. That’s exactly why I’m single.”
Remy just shrugs like his crazy words hold any merit. “As far as I can tell, that’s the only logical reason. If you wanted to be with someone, you would.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“You’re a catch, Ri. A real one-in-a-million bachelorette. I bet the men nip at your ankles every chance they get.”
I snort. “They don’t.”
“Pull at the hem of your skirt, then?”
“Pretty sure that would be sexual harassment,” I tease. “And no, they don’t do anything.”
He considers me closely. “You must just be too intimidating, then. Too awesome and strong and successful for them.” He lowers his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t let anyone know you heard this from me, but the truth is, most men are big old babies. Afraid of rejection. Wounded ego. Insecure. We’re mostly worthless.”
“Don’t worry. We, the women, already know,” I say through a soft laugh and flash a wink in his direction.
He groans and falls back into the chair with a bang, pretending to stab himself in the chest with a knife and twist it, as though I’ve wounded him greatly. I know better. Remington Winslow may be a representative of the male community, but he’s absolutely none of the things he just listed. He’s confident and kind and completely secure in his manhood without having to be a pompous twat.
“Honestly, I’m probably single because that’s the way I’ve wanted it,” I admit, and he looks at me for a long moment.
“You’ve never wanted to settle down with someone?”
No one besides him when you were a love-sick teenage girl, my mind reminds me, but I keep that information to myself.
“Not really. I’ve always been too career-focused, I guess. What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Oh, c’mon, Rem.” I squint when a knowing smile crests my lips. “You know what I mean. Why is a great guy like you still single?”
“I already attempted the marriage thing once,” he responds and runs a hand through his hair. “As you know, that didn’t exactly work out.”
His words make it seem like his past has jaded him. Like it’s closed off the possibility of love and companionship. My heart twinges with discomfort for him.