Just like Maria’s.
My mind drifts to the almost-kiss in the kitchen.
Fuck me. How did that happen?
It was like one minute she was hugging me, and the next she was staring up at me with those pretty brown eyes of hers, and a rush of feelings I haven’t had since I was a rowdy teenage boy consumed me. Between one breath and the next, I’d thought of a hundred different ways to kiss her, touch her, lick her, fuck her.
And if it weren’t for Izzy belting out her need for a bottle, I don’t know what would’ve happened.
“You have some seriously interesting timing, little lady,” I tell her and sit down in the rocker beside her crib.
I honestly don’t know what would’ve happened if we hadn’t been interrupted.
It goes without saying that I still care about Maria, but I don’t think you ever stop caring about the first person you fell in love with. And young Remy Winslow was obsessed with Maria Baros. Consumed by her. In love with her. At one point in my life, she was everything to me.
All of that mixed in with the now makes it hard to distinguish my current feelings.
“Izzy girl, sometimes in life, things don’t turn out how you expect.”
She just blinks her big eyes at me.
“It’s not necessarily a good thing or a bad thing, though, just…the reality of life.”
I reach out to caress my thumb over the soft skin of her cheek, and she reaches up with her tiny hand to wrap her fingers around mine.
“Damn, you’re cute, you know that?” I grin at her, and she starts to suck on her bottom lip. “And probably hungry too, huh?”
I stand up from the rocker and hold Izzy secure in my arms as I toss her dirty diaper in the diaper pail. “Now, before we go out into the kitchen to grab your bottle, you have to make me a promise, okay? We need to stay as quiet as possible so your mom can keep sleeping. No offense, but you’ve been a bit of a handful lately.”
Izzy wiggles her little legs.
“Do we have a deal?”
When she just stares up at me, I take that as her silent agreement and head out of the nursery and toward the kitchen to make Izzy a bottle.
And as I pass by the couch, I’m elated to see Maria is still sound asleep.
“Looks like we’re about to have a sleepover tonight, Izzy,” I whisper to her as I step into the kitchen. “Surely as long as I keep the bottles coming, you won’t mind, right?”
When her tiny butt lets out a loud fart against my hand, I take that as her approval.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I prep Izzy’s bottle, and I take a quick glance at the screen to see more messages from my brothers. A lot more messages, in fact.
I decide it’ll be best for them—and especially for me—to put them out of their nosy-as-hell misery. With my free hand, I type out a quick text.
Me: Listen, you crazy fuckers, I’m a little busy tonight, but I’ll give you the scoop soon.
Just like with my sister and my mom, at one point, Maria was a big part of their lives too. They deserve to know the truth. Deserve to know the circumstances surrounding Maria’s life. Deserve to know that two people who were a part of their youth are no longer with us.
Jude: Fucking finally!
Ty: How soon?
Me: I can free up some time tomorrow after I take Lex to the Mavs game.
More texts vibrate through, but when Izzy squirms in my arms, I ignore them, put my phone back in my pocket, and look down at her. “Keeping you happy and giving your momma rest is the priority tonight, sweetheart.”
Everything and everyone else can wait.
Sunday, October 6th
Maria
For the first time in I don’t know how long, I wake up simply because my body decides it’s time. Not because there’s a tiny human screaming or a cramp in my still-recovering uterus or because I had a dream that babies suddenly can’t breathe if their moms are asleep. My body’s clock finally got to ring its own bell, and the feeling is somewhat disorienting.
I rub a hand down my face and sit up, only then realizing that I’m not in my bed. Instead, I’m on my couch, and the waistband of my jeans has officially fused itself to the center of my stomach.
“Ow,” I mutter, rubbing softly at the harsh indentations in my skin.
Looking from side to side, sleep confusion still clinging to the edges of my consciousness, I search the room for something. There’s something important, something I need to—oh my God, Izzy! I have a baby named Izzy!
I shoot up to standing like I’m a bullet being shot from a gun, her empty bouncy chair making my heart kick into overdrive.