You’d think I would’ve been scared shitless, but I don’t know, between seeing how strong Maria was in that moment and feeling the poignancy of what we were experiencing together, I just…couldn’t be anything but the man she deserved to have by her side.
A quick trip down the hallway and a turn of my key and I’m inside the solace of my apartment. It’s spacious—both for New York and bachelorhood—but it’s the only place that ever felt like a good fit. It’s richly traditional in style, very old New York, and just snobby enough to make me feel proud of everything I’ve accomplished.
It’s dumb, really, but sometimes this apartment is what reminds me my life hasn’t been a waste. It’s so different from what could have been; and yet, it has the memories of Lexi taking some of her first steps by the floor-to-ceiling windows and Ty and Jude fistfighting when they found out they’d gone on two dates with the same woman several years ago.
It’s the home of several family Christmas dinners and has been a haven for my drunken, sloppy brothers on more than one occasion. It’s the door my sister knocked on in the middle of the night when she didn’t know what to do to comfort Lexi at the age of four—now known as the year she wouldn’t stop crying.
This apartment is full of all the echoes of the decision I made a decade and a half ago. For me, my family is everything. They’re all I’ve ever needed. And for the longest time, with the decades-long absence of our good-for-nothing father, they’ve needed me, too.
But it feels so quiet now. There’s no baby crying, no mess to tend to, no one to take care of.
It feels odd—almost eerie, really—and I can’t put my finger on why. Yesterday morning when I left, the walls felt close, the space felt cozy. But right now, it feels like they’re retreating, opening into a chasm or a void without anything to fill it up.
My sister is married now, her husband one of the good ones, and my niece Lexi is well past needing her uncle Remy for much of anything besides entertainment. Even my three brothers have grown up and settled down.
It’s different; my role in their lives is different. And I imagine, the role of this apartment and the memories it carries going forward are going to be different too.
Stripping off my torn and dirtied white T-shirt, I pull out the sliding cabinet in the kitchen and pitch it into the garbage. I don’t think there’s any salvaging it at this point.
But before I can close the cabinet, something grips me in the gut and makes me pause. I reach into the can and take it back out, shaking it out and tossing it in the laundry room instead.
I don’t know why, but it almost feels wrong to get rid of it.
Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I scroll down through my contacts to the number Maria gave me.
I want so badly to check in and see how she’s doing, but I’d hate to wake her up if she’s finally getting some rest.
I hover on the fence for thirty seconds more before realizing I’ve known the answer all along. After everything we’ve been through together in the last twenty-four hours, there’s no way in hell I’m leaving any shade of doubt with Maria. I need her to know that she can reach out to me anytime.
Fingers to the screen of my phone, I do just that and hit send.
Maria
I stare down at a message from Remy, reading his words for what feels like the hundredth time.
Remy: Thanks for letting me be a part of this experience, Ri, whether you really had the choice or not. I’ll remember this for the rest of my life. PS: Don’t forget to use this number if and when you need me—or if you just want to chat. I’m always here.
Goodness, he’s so damn kind, so considerate, so…Remy.
Even after all these years, he’s still the same sweet guy who made my teenage heart fall hard.
Sure, he’s rougher around the edges now, jaded about things like marriage and relationships, but deep down, at his core, he hasn’t really changed.
I honestly don’t know what it would’ve been like to have Izzy if Remy hadn’t been there. Sure, it would’ve been nice to deliver her in a hospital, where a freaking epidural could’ve been utilized and I wouldn’t have had to feel like my vagina was lit on fire and used as a damn cannon, but I would’ve been experiencing her birth…alone.
And that would’ve made it a million times harder.
Sure, I have friends and acquaintances in this city, but grabbing a drink or dinner is not the same as wanting someone witnessing you push a baby out of your hoo-hah.