The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (11)

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.

But I know that’s the opposite of what she needs to focus on right now. She knows. God, she knows. The last thing she needs is me droning on about it.

No. Instead, she needs encouragement.

“That’s where you’re going wrong,” I tell her, and her face pinches in confusion.

“What’s where I’m going wrong?”

“Trying to know what the hell you’re doing ahead of time. It’s impossible. I’ve never met a parent who’s said things turned out like they expected. It’s always overwhelming. It’s always a shitshow.”

“But—”

“No.” I shake my head and lean forward to squeeze her knee. “It’s the truth, Maria. Kids are good at one thing, and that’s being all the things you don’t expect.”

She laughs, frightened. “Great.”

“I’m just saying, you think you’re behind, but you’re not. You’re right on target with where you’re supposed to be. When the baby is born…that’s when you’ll start to figure it out.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so. It’s statistically proven.”

Maria rolls her eyes. “Man, you haven’t changed at all. Spouting shit like you know what you’re talking about.”

I smile. “Sounding confident is the key.”

“Well, thanks. I think. It’s not like I have a way out, so I’m just…making the best of it.”

“It’s going to be great. My niece Lexi is one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. In fact, she’s about the only human I would miss a meal for.”

Maria giggles, joking, “You’re a big, strong boy. You need fuel in the form of food.”

“Yes. That is verbatim what I tell myself when I go for the second brownie.”

“Sorry, by the way,” she says, and I tilt my head to the side in confusion.

“Sorry for what?”

“Tossing all my crazy baggage onto you. I’m sure that’s the last thing you felt like hearing while being stuck in an elevator,” she explains, and I have the urge to pull her into my arms and tell her everything will be okay.

But I don’t. It’s nearly a thousand million degrees in here, and I can only imagine how little she wants to be smothered. Instead, I go for verbal reassurance.

“I’m glad you told me,” I say, and I mean every word to my core.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t expecting that kind of reality when you saw my pregnant belly.”

“No,” I answer honestly. “But that’s life, Maria.”

“Yeah. That’s life.” She repeats my words. “And life can be a real bitch sometimes, you know?”

“Oh, trust me, I know.” A soft laugh escapes my lungs. And then I can’t stop myself from trying to make her feel a little better at my expense. “You want to know something wild about my life?’

“Um…yes. Please.” She nods with wide, urgent eyes.

“I still see Charlotte,” I tell her with a conspiratorial whisper. “She’s married to Nick Raines, Winnie’s ex and the father of my niece, Lexi.”

Even though I’m truly okay with the whole situation now, it isn’t necessarily one I enjoy talking about. But for some reason, with Maria, it’s easy. If anything, I want to tell her.

“Seriously?”

“My niece’s father is married to my ex-fiancée who left me at the altar.” I nod. “It’s almost some Maury Povich type of shit.”

“Man, we really are two peas in a crazy pod of life, huh?” she comments through a quiet laugh.

“Yeah, babe.” I chuckle. “We really are.”

Smiles and silence settle over us, and it’s all I can do to stop myself from ogling Maria in the time gap. Her brown hair and brown eyes both glow, and her lips—always plush and perfect—seem even more so in the dim light of the broken elevator.