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Maybe, just maybe, these stupid little details don’t matter. At least, not to me.
Now, I just have to figure out if they matter to Maria.
Maria
I look at the last message I received from Remy to double-check that I’m at the right place.
It’s safe to say, after waking up a little hungover, the adrenaline that came with the realization of what last night entailed and dealing with Claudia’s inability to schedule showings at the correct time, I could’ve easily gotten my wires crossed.
Remy: Meet us at the Capital Grille around 6. We’ll be coming from Wall Street Station.
With one glance at the sign on the restaurant in front of me, I verify that I am correct.
And a quick peek at my watch later, I realize I’m on time too.
I peer in the direction Remy said he’d be coming from, and I’m finding strangely that, while I enjoy the freedom to do what I need to do without Izzy, I miss her immensely in the time away. I want a snuggle and a sniff of her fresh baby scent and the feel of her warm skin as she nuzzles under my chin.
I miss my girl.
It’s an oddly comforting reminder of my sister and everything she was, and the reason it’s odd is because it doesn’t make me feel sad. It makes me feel hope and connection and love and…lucky.
I could have lost Isabella and Oliver and had nothing of them in return. Instead, I was given the extraordinary gift of having a piece of each of them with me all day, every day.
When I was pregnant, I never would have imagined I’d feel this way this soon. That I’d be able to feel joy and positivity when I looked into Izzy’s eyes. But the truth is, she’s the life I didn’t know I was missing. She’s breathed a new dimension into me.
I scour the sidewalk again, looking for a glimpse of Remy’s dark hair and Izzy’s tiny head, but it’s crowded and cramped with business-pantsuit-wearing commuters, scuttling home or to their final meeting of the day. I don’t know why there are so many corporate minions running around on a Saturday, but it doesn’t matter.
In the distance, though, a balloon in the shape of a butterfly catches my attention. It bounces in the wind, rocketing from one side of the sidewalk to the other on a long, pink-ribboned tail. It looks so out of place with the straitlaced pedestrians below it, and without conscious decision, I feel my lips tip up in delight.
It’s only when the crowd in front of the balloon clears enough to reveal the holder—Remy, of all people—that my smile turns into a guffaw.
Oh, what the heck?
With Izzy in the carrier on his chest, he’s holding the string of the balloon and a bag with a goldfish in one hand, and a huge stuffed animal in the other. Painted animals cover one of his cheeks, and he’s wearing a smile the size of Texas.
What in the land of holy water is going on here?
His face lights up even further as he spots me standing in front of the Capital Grille, and he lifts the arm with the fish and balloons to wave.
I shake my head in laughter as he approaches, hardly able to come up with words.
Remy comes to a stop in front of me, and he shifts his body so I can peek at Izzy inside the baby carrier, her little self still too small to be front-facing just yet, and that’s when I see the baby-sized sunglasses on her teeny, currently sleeping face.
He waves Izzy’s tiny hand at me. “Hi, Mommy.”
The moniker is new, one I haven’t really used myself for fear that it’ll drum up some sort of impostor syndrome, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find out it feels good. She might not be mine biologically, but she’s mine in the sense that she has my whole heart.
Our relationship is complicated—but that doesn’t mean it’s not special. And I’m working on finding a way to be okay with that.
“My God, Remy!” I say now that I’ve had a chance to take full inventory of their display. It’s not one fish, it’s two, the animals on Remy’s cheek are glitter butterflies, and Izzy’s fingernails are painted with a clear-coated bright-pink sparkle polish.
He laughs, completely unfazed by both the ridiculousness of their appearance and my reaction to it. “We had a good day.”
“Where did you go? A carnival?”
He smiles and nods. “Yeah, actually. Downtown. They were having a big street-fair-style party, and Flynn and I decided to give it a shot when we had a scheduling issue with story time at the library.”
“Scheduling issue?”
“Flynn forgot to check if they have one.”
I grin.
“Couldn’t help but think a carnival might be more fun than story time anyway—sensory-wise, at this age, I mean—and well…when we do something, we do it big.”
