The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (130)

Let’s hope the mysterious “C” likes pepperoni.




Remy

I press a kiss to Maria’s cheek, snag a whining Izzy off her hip, and head into the dining room, where the rest of our family is seated and ready to dive into dinner.

After she dealt with a migraine all morning, I’m glad my wife decided not to slave over a hot oven and went with ordering pizza instead.

And by the looks of my brothers’ plates, stacked up like they’re heathens, it’s safe to say no one minds that tonight’s meal was catered by the little pizzeria up the street.

Izzy whines in my arms, her little legs kicking against my hip while she tries her best to escape my hold so she can try her hand at crawling around the room.

At nine months old, my girl likes to be on the move.

“Izzy girl!” Lexi calls for her, and thankfully, Izzy spots her right away.

Seated by her high chair, her favorite cousin Lexi is waving at her, and Izzy immediately holds out her hands, letting me know exactly where she wants to go.

And I don’t hesitate to set her down, strap her in, and put a few small pieces of watermelon on her tray while Lexi keeps her entertained.

I glance at the screen of my phone, wondering where in the hell my guest of honor is, but there are no missed notifications. What the hell?

I would’ve thought she would’ve been here by now. Surely she isn’t going to stand me up, right?

From across the room, I watch as my beautiful wife takes a seat, her skin glowing with the kind of beauty that always seems to hit me square in the chest, and I decide to sit down beside her and enjoy the meal.

If she shows, she shows. If she doesn’t, well—

The doorbell rings, and three knocks sound right after it.

Fucking yes!

Maria looks over at me with a secret smile, and I hop out of my chair to go answer the door.

“Who else is coming?” I hear Jude asking behind me, and I’m practically bouncing on my fucking feet over how excited I am for him to see the answer to that question.

And when I swing open the door, I am not disappointed. There stands Cleo, with a smile on her lips.

“The feeling is mutual, Remington,” she says by way of greeting, and I laugh.

“C’mon in, Cleo. It’s time to get the band back together like you’ve wanted for so long.”

Her eyes are amused, but she follows my lead, down our entry hallway and into the dining room.

Maria is the first to notice her, and since she is well aware of the whole backstory when it comes to Cleo, she has to bite her lip to fight the urge to burst into laughter.

And then, the dominoes start to fall.

Ty’s eyes take up his whole face. “What the fuck?”

Jude looks up, and his jaw practically hits the table. “Holy shit.”

And then Flynn, last but not least, unleashes a cackling burst of laughter that has him slapping his hand on the table. Flynn. The quietest brother of them all.

“Everyone,” I begin the introductions. “This is my friend Cleo. Actually, she’s friends with Ty and Jude and Flynn, too. And she was kind enough to agree to join us tonight for a little reunion of sorts.”

“It is my pleasure,” Cleo says, and I don’t miss the way she smiles at my two youngest brothers who are still trying to pick their jaws up off the floor.

“Any friend of Remy’s is a friend of ours,” Uncle Brad announces. “But if you don’t mind my asking, how exactly do you know our boys?”

Jude chokes on his own saliva.

“Many, many years ago, she was our fortune-teller,” I explain, and Cleo grins over at me. “The night of my non-wedding’s bachelor party.”

“What?” Uncle Brad looks around the room. “Who goes to a fortune-teller at a bachelor party?”

“It was Jude’s idea!” Ty chimes in.

“Wait…are you a…?”

“No, Brad. I am not a stripper,” Cleo answers before he finishes his question, her mouth turning up into an entertained smile.

“What the hell? What idiot planned that for a bachelor party?”

“Uncle Brad, we went to a strip club first, then the fortune-teller,” Jude mutters. “Fuck.”

I don’t miss that Flynn is now eyeing me with amused curiosity, his brain calculating how current events came to be.

“I’ve been handling her investments,” I tell him, and he shakes his head on a laugh.

“You’re screwing with me.”

“No.” I grin. “For the last fourteen years, actually.”

“You’ve been handling her investments for fourteen fucking years, and you never told us?!” Ty shouts. “What the hell?”

“Ty!” My mother is quick to chastise. “We have a guest!”

I’m loving this all too much, I know I am. But after all the shit I’ve put up with from my brothers over the years, it feels outrageously fun to be the one pulling a stunt.

Maria eventually steps in, introducing Cleo to each member of our family by name and then offering her a seat at the table.

Of course, Cleo takes it all in stride and sits down, her eyes very much enjoying the show around her.

“You like word games, Cleo?” Howard asks, his favorite party trick always holstered and at the ready, and she nods.