The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (31)

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.

“So…you never see yourself settling down with someone?”

“Honestly?” He shakes his head. “No.”

Well, damn. Like, no marriage…no relationship…ever?

I’m tempted to push the question, but Remy beats me to the punch and redirects the conversation altogether.

“Well, unless the relationship involves free Chipotle burritos. Then I’d consider it.”

I snort. “Rem, that’s a reward card. Not a relationship.”

“Oh, then, I guess I want to settle down with a reward card,” he says with a big ol’ grin that reminds me of the past and how something as simple as talking to Remy was always so much fun.

Laughter, teasing quips, and lots of smiles, that’s how it always was with him.

And that’s exactly how it is with him now. We fill more hours of the night, teasing and joking and laughing while Izzy is cradled in my arms for ninety percent of the time. I know people say to put babies down from the beginning, but I know my sister wouldn’t let go for a beat unless it was to give Oliver a short turn.

And Remy makes it easy on me anyway. Taking her without my asking to change her diaper, and moving to the other side of the room when it’s time for me to breastfeed her. He even gets the nurse for me when I’m having issues with getting her to latch.

He respects my privacy while remaining at my side, and after more time passes, I’m not even sure I care to know what his plan is anymore. I’m just thankful for his company. Thankful for the time he’s spent making me feel like I’m not alone.

Now, though, it’s a little after five in the morning, and finally giving in to exhaustion, Remy’s fallen asleep in the hard wooden chair on the other side of the room, and his neck is craned awkwardly to the side. After all he’s done for me, I can’t stand the thought of being the reason he can’t look to the left for a couple of weeks.