The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (43)
But back in the day, when Maria and I were together, my mom loved Maria and her family dearly, and Winnie and Isabella were friends. I felt compelled to tell them. Felt like it was something they deserved to know.
“Baby?” Jude asks, utterly puzzled and so far out of the loop he should be in another country. “Maria Baros has a baby?”
When Ty looks like he’s seconds away from opening his big mouth, Winnie walks over to him and slaps her hand across his face. “You better go, Rem.”
“Wha thu ellth?” Ty mutters around her palm, most likely confused as to why our sister is letting me off the hook so easily.
I take that as my cue to leave.
One day, in the near future, I’ll explain the whole situation to my brothers, but now isn’t the time. Now, I have somewhere important I need to be.
“Thanks for hosting, Win!” I call over my shoulder and quickly make my way to the back gate, where I exit and head for the subway stop a couple of blocks from my sister’s brownstone.
It’s a day I thought would never come and I’d about given up on.
The day Maria Baros finally used my number.
I make it to Maria’s place in record time. Frankly, it’s almost crazy how close her building is to mine. All these years and we’ve been one short walk across Central Park from each other.
I step over the threshold of her front door, and all I can think is…holy shit.
What I think used to be a pristine, mostly all-white, warm but stylishly minimalist apartment has become a place that could be taped off as a crime scene. Well, if said crime scene involved a robbery where the burglar was a crying baby and her sidekick was a frazzled mom who looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
Maria’s hair sticks out to the side at an unnatural angle as though it’s a compass and the disaster that her apartment has become its north. Debris dots every surface in sight, and half-empty coffee mugs litter the kitchen counter in a continuous stream.
Baby Izzy cries in her arms, clearly unhappy with the current state of the world and probably, if I had to guess, feeding off the emotional exhaustion of her momma.
“Here,” I offer immediately, not bothering with the time-suck of a hello that I guarantee Maria cares nothing about, reaching for the baby, and making Maria’s eyes widen comically. “Why don’t you let Izzy hang with me while you take a shower?”
Her voice is ragged as she tells me, “I can’t get her to stop crying. I’ve been trying for hours, and nothing is working. I don’t know what to do or what to—”
“Maria,” I cut in, interrupting her gently. “Go take a shower, babe. Take a few moments for yourself. I’ve got Izzy. We’ll be good. I promise.”
Her face nearly crumples with relief as she finally nods and turns without another word to retreat down the hall. I know she doesn’t have the energy for anything else right now, and I know she feels like she’ll never feel normal again. My sister went through it with Lexi, and Daisy went through it with the twins. Going from independent to responsible for kids is a hard transition.
But I know the other side of the tunnel. I’ve witnessed the light that lives there. I just have to convince Maria it’s real.
Izzy’s sweet little face pinches with her cries, and her normally beautiful crystalline eyes are hidden from view. The sound is manic, confused even, and I have the very strong feeling that little Izzy is feeling just as exhausted as Maria.
But damn, I can’t believe how much she’s already grown.
It’s been a month and a half since I first held her in my arms, the moment she took her first breath, and I can’t believe the changes that have already occurred. Her cheeks are fuller, and her cute little body is heavier in my arms. Her eyes are still blue, but I have a feeling when they eventually change, they’ll end up a caramel shade of brown like Maria’s because Isabella was basically her mini-me.
“It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart,” I whisper down toward her.
Slowly and calmly, I tuck her tight to my chest, cradle her head, and swing side to side with a bounce. I pick up singing just a whisper of an old Van Morrison song, mostly for the effect I know the vibrations in my chest will have on her. I hum and dance and swing and bounce, and it’s only a matter of five minutes before Izzy is passed out in my arms, her little body lax and her tearful cries nothing but a memory.
I smile down at her delicate features, trying to match them to those of Maria and, from what I remember from decades ago, those of her sister Isabella.
There is no doubt, this little lady will be a stunner when she gets older. Back in the day, Isabella was a pretty little girl. And Maria, well, she’s always possessed the kind of beauty that gets more than a second look. She’s also kind and warm and really fucking funny when she’s not on the brink of a breakdown.
Frankly, she’s always been the full package, the kind of woman that men fight for, so I know she wasn’t kidding when she admitted to me that being single was something she wanted.
Obviously, I get it. I do. I mean, much to my mother’s and sister’s dismay, I am the perpetual bachelor-by-choice.
And I can’t see that as anything but a good thing right now. I’m the perfect candidate for Maria to lean on. She needs a friend with time and energy to give. And since I’m only responsible to myself and work, I’m more than capable of giving it.