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“Remy?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for showing up today. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
Knowing what I know now, I don’t know what I would have done if I’d missed it.
Early morning, Saturday, August 24th
Maria
The war inside my chest could be in history books one day, I think to myself as I stare down into the newly opened eyes of the most beautiful baby girl I’ve ever seen.
She’s so delicate and tiny and innocent and the perfect combination of her parents, and my heart squeezes at the hurt of them never getting the chance to see her—of Isabella never getting the chance to hold her.
My sister loved babies and wanted them with a fierceness that I never understood. I was content to be alone—content to pour all my time and energy into myself and our business and my sister and her family.
Now, I’m all the family this sweet angel has got.
When it comes to her living relatives, it’s just me and Oliver’s parents that are still in the picture. But they live across the pond, all the way in Italy, and aren’t in good enough health to travel. Aside from FaceTime calls, I’m not expecting to see them anytime soon.
I’m literally all she has.
And she’s all the family you have, too.
I was supposed to be her fun aunt.
But now, I’m her mother…right?
“You okay over there?” Remy asks quietly from his spot across the room, and my gaze jerks up to meet his. “Your thoughts look heavy.”
How he could possibly read me that well after all these years is beyond me. Right now, I look at him, and I see nothing—understand nothing. I would give almost anything for a tiny window to see inside. For the chance to know what he’s thinking at this moment.
I mean, it’s one in the morning, we’ve been at the hospital for several hours with nothing more than a lot of diaper changes, feedings, and bumbling on my part, and still, he hasn’t left other than to go to my apartment on an errand for me and to the gift shop to get me flowers and balloons.
Frankly, he hasn’t even gone home to change his torn-up T-shirt that became a casualty in the war against the elevator.
Is he planning on staying the rest of the night? The whole time I’m here? I can’t figure it out, and with the state of my emotions this soon after giving birth to my sister’s baby, I don’t exactly have the capacity to ask.
“I’m…okay, I guess. It’s just a lot.”
Remy nods sympathetically, his eyes so soft I’d almost swear he’d lost a sister and subsequently given birth to her baby himself.
Perhaps, though, the adult version of the boy I loved is just an empath of sorts.
“I know. You have all the right in the world to feel anything you need to feel. There’s no certain way this is supposed to happen.”
“No certain way this is supposed to happen?” I scoff a little, a bitter twinge firing in my chest and making me say the words I’ve been thinking out loud. “I was supposed to hand her over to my sister while I watched joy overwhelm her. I was supposed to be the fun aunt. But now, I guess, I’m her mother.”
“Yeah, Maria.” His smile is sad, but also hopeful. “You are her mother. And she’s so incredibly lucky to have you.”
Those words disarm me. They make me drop my verbal weapons and meet his eyes. “Y-you think so?” I ask and glance down at the beautiful baby in my arms.
“I know so, babe.”
“I’m sorry,” I say with a groan. The last person I want to lash out at is Remy. He’s the only one here for me—the only one here for…
Just like that, it hits me. My sister can’t be here, but I can do my damnedest to make it seem like she is. She wouldn’t mope or cry or even let the exhaustion get to her. She’d joke and laugh and love and tease, and she’d do it all in earnest.
The best thing I can do for her daughter is embody her spirit.
“Isabella Olive,” I say aloud, making Remy raise his eyebrows slightly. “That’s what I’m going to name her. After her mom and her dad. Isabella and Oliver. And I want to call her Izzy.”
“Izzy.” He tests out the name on his tongue. “I love it.”
I smile then. “Yeah? You don’t think it’s too cheesy?”
He shakes his head and climbs to his feet, strolling over to look down at Izzy’s now-sleeping face. “Maybe for some other baby. Some lesser infant. But not this one,” he says proudly. “This one can carry it.”
I laugh, wiping a lingering tear from my face and smiling down at my girl. “She does look strong.”
Remy hums from right next to me, and a wave of warmth from his body settles the chill in my spine. “Oh yeah. She looks like she can do anything…” He laughs. “Aside from feed and care for herself for the next several months, that is. But other than that, she’s got this world handled.”
