The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) (76)

Down deep, I know Maria’s angst isn’t about sleep deprivation or caring for Izzy right now. Lord knows she can handle all that. She’s been handling it like Wendy Winslow on steroids, even when it’s put her at the breaking point. Even when she’s questioning herself if she can really do it. I don’t know anyone who could’ve handled the first six weeks of their baby’s life by themselves.

This is about what we were in the middle of when we got interrupted. It’s about not knowing if she would have gone all the way if we hadn’t been. And it’s about wondering if I’m thinking all the same things.

“I was thinking,” I add, “you should know that I normally last longer than that.”

“Last longer?”

“Yeah,” I say through a secret smile. “During s-e-x.”

Her embarrassment is still under the surface, but she suppresses it enough to smile slyly. “But I thought it was a make-out session?”

“Same difference.”

“Same difference?” she questions, now completely entertained by the path of this conversation despite the slight hue of pink that’s still showcased on her cheeks. “Your definition of make-out sessions has certainly changed over the years.”

“Well, I suppose I’ve learned a thing or two about make-out sessions over the years.” I waggle my brows, and I can’t help but reach out to pull her closer by the belt of her robe.

On a giggle, she falls to sitting on the ottoman by my feet.

“So, you’ve learned a thing or two about make-out sessions, but not about s-e-x?” she volleys back, and it makes my chest vibrate with hilarity. “I should probably make a mental note of that.”

“I almost forgot how damn good you are at comebacks,” I tell her with a smirk. “You could put all three of my brothers to shame.”

Izzy shifts in my arms, squirming a little as she tries to find sleep again. I adjust her body an inch, and sadly, Maria’s focus changes.

“Here, let me take her.”

I start to shake my head—I’m perfectly content where I am—but the clock on Izzy’s wall with a little pink balloon design in the center catches my attention.

It’s nearly three in the morning, and the foreign markets will be opening soon. A couple of my clients’ portfolios have me particularly attuned to Tokyo and the way all the shuffling on trade deals is going to affect things on a global scale.

I really need to be home, in my office, if I have any hope of keeping up with everything when the markets open.

Fuck. I wish things didn’t feel so unfinished with me leaving.

I have to go, though. I have to. Billionaires don’t exactly look the other way when you play fast and loose with their money.

I glance down at the tired baby in my arms once more and then up to an unsure Maria. She’s shifting from one hip to the other, self-conscious in the gap my silence has left.

“Yeah, actually. But only because I have to head home.” I snuggle into Izzy’s sweet scent and smile down at her. “No way I’d leave if I didn’t have to, little girl.”

Maria leans forward, taking Izzy out of my arms, standing up, and turning to sway her way to the other side of the room. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s avoiding something…avoiding me.

I hope she’s not taking my leaving personally—relating it to what happened before Izzy’s cries. If she is, I’m going to have to do something about it before I leave if I want any hope of concentrating on the market at all.

Not yet, though. Right now, I need to get myself ready and give her some space to gather herself, and then, then, I’ll give her a lesson in assuming.

Because I don’t regret anything about our almost-encounter other than the fact that I have to use the qualifier of “almost.”

I run a hand through my hair briefly, pausing to watch them for a moment before heading back to Maria’s room to gather my stuff. It’s a short, silent trip down the hallway, and the absence of Izzy’s cries now is a stark hole for my own.

On the inside, of course. I mean, I’m not bawling out loud, but I’ve never wanted to stay somewhere more in my life.

The bed is rumpled and the covers askew, both from getting up in a hurry and from what we were doing before that.

And I can almost feel the warm flesh of Maria’s thighs in my hands and taste the promised land of what’s in between.

I lick my lips and force myself to move to the side of the bed, grabbing my shirt that’s on the floor and throwing it on with rough, irritated movements.

We will try this again. One way or another, Maria and I will finish what we started.

Unfortunately for me, it just won’t be right now.

Taking a quick trip into the bathroom, I wash off my face and run a hand through my hair to tame it a little and give my teeth a scrub with my finger and toothpaste.

I feel at least a little refreshed, and now I’m ready to take on not only my day at work, but also saying goodbye to Maria.

As I head out of her bedroom, I flick off all the lights other than the soft lamp at the side of her bed, grab my phone and keys off the nightstand, and walk back down the hallway toward Izzy’s room. I can still hear the faint sounds of Maria shuffling around in there, despite absolute silence from Izzy herself.

Just before reaching the threshold of the nursery, my phone buzzes in my pocket, making my eyebrows draw together. Who the hell is texting me this early in the morning?