The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (41)

“I can confirm this!” my mom calls out with a grin.

“Give me a break. I do not have the biggest mouth of the family,” Ty tries to counter, but even his fiancée Rachel gives him a look that calls him on his bullshit. “Okay, fine. Whatever. But what are you doing here, Howard? The point of the game is lightning-quick. Not minute-long intermissions to sell us sneakers.”

My mom’s boyfriend just grins but meets my eyes and continues. “Fun?”

“Family,” I respond instantly, and Jude bursts into laughter immediately.

“How fucking wholesome.”

“Jude,” my mom starts to chastise his language and glances at Lexi, but when she sees that her granddaughter is not affected the way her mother used to be when she was that age, she just shakes her head on a sigh. There was a time when Lexi informed everyone, in the middle of a Winslow family dinner, the use of curse words is a sign of intelligence, and Jude has been using that to his advantage ever since.

Basically, even powerful women like Wendy Winslow tire of being one-upped by an adolescent girl who has the IQ of Einstein.

I bite my lip to smother a laugh and turn back to face Howard as he continues the game.

“Excitement?” he asks, settling himself into a good old-fashioned dad pose, his feet shoulder-width apart and his arms across his chest.

Maria. She is the one word, the one name, that immediately comes to mind—one that won’t make a bit of sense to anyone on this deck and isn’t exactly business I’d like to share. But the excitement of six weeks ago is still so fresh that, if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself it happened just yesterday.

But then again, the month and a half of hoping she’ll call, hoping that she’ll let me lend a helping hand, haven’t passed by quickly either.

Other than one text from her, right after she got home from the hospital, letting me know they’d been discharged and were apparently doing well—and no matter how many times I’ve attempted to reach out to her since then—it’s been radio silence when it comes to communication with Maria.

“Uh…Rem?” Ty’s far-too-amused voice grabs my attention. “Again, the name of the game is quick, bro.”

I ignore him and glance around the backyard at my family. “Wait…how many turns do I get? Doesn’t it eventually rotate or something?”

“Ohhh shit.” Jude laughs annoyingly. “Sounds like someone is feeling the heat.”

Of course, Ty is all about it. “The kitchen is cooking, bro.”

I flip both of them off, and my mother can only sigh. She’s been trying to reform her foul-mouthed, crude children for over forty years at this point. I guess, given our inability to change, she’s just about given up.

“I’m cool as a damn cucumber,” I retort. “I’m just wondering when someone else gets to join in.”

Howard is more understanding of my questions and holds up a reassuring five fingers. “Each person goes five times. Then it moves on to the next person.”

“And the excitement builds every second like you’re on the boat in the Gene Wilder version of Willy Wonka,” Ty chimes in.

“What are you, the cruise director?” I ask him. “Trying to build interest and participation?”

“I’ve just seen it in action, bro. That’s all. Howard’s a wizard.”

I shake my head but turn back to Howard. The faster we get this over with, the better. Most of these other yahoos like being the center of attention—I, however, do not.

“Excitement?” Howard repeats again.

This time, I answer, with a much vaguer version of the same story that instantly came to mind. “Blackout.”

“Interesting choice of words, Rem!” Ty shouts himself back into the game. “I recall a time when you—”

“Keep ’em coming, Howard.” I cut Ty off at the knees. I already know what that word sparks in his mind, but that doesn’t mean I have to subject myself to his response.

“Next?” my mother’s boyfriend tosses out quickly.

And I respond with a swift, “Future.”

Howard’s eyes light up mischievously as he repeats my answer—this time, in the form of a question. “Future?”

My answer is immediate. “Undecided.”

Winnie and my mom both make a sad, disappointed sound that lets me know that one word has the power to bring a shitstorm of questions my way. Questions they’ve been pestering me about for years, their focus on my constant state of bachelorhood a little too intense for my liking. Hell, it’d be too much for any single man on the planet’s liking—and if there were men inhabiting Mars, they’d want to avoid their damn questions too.

Flynn and Jude groan, and I know it’s because they’re just as aware of what I’ve set off in the females of the family as I am. I wouldn’t be surprised if Daisy and Sophie and Rachel all join in now, trying to help poor, single Remy find the purpose for his life.

Although I did reach the five-word mark, it’s clear I’ve put a damper on the future prospects for the game when the women start to shift toward one another.

And when my phone starts to ring in my pocket? I immediately excuse myself and make my way off the deck and away from the Winslow women’s plotting. I don’t care if it’s a telemarketer at this point—I’m taking the call.