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“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.
Nonetheless, I have a feeling convincing her of this fact is going to be a hard sell. Women as strong as Maria have taught themselves not to need anyone. They can fend for themselves. Even now, she could go it alone, and I know she’d succeed. But she shouldn’t have to. Not when I’m ready and willing to help.
She deserves to have some kind of support system by her side through this. She shouldn’t have to go it alone, and from the looks of it, that’s exactly what she’s been doing. Handling all of this—taking care of Izzy, running a business—by herself. Without even the help of a nanny.
In an instant, I decide. From now on, I’m not going to wait for her to ask.
Maria
I pause in front of the sink, turning to the mirror only after I’ve stripped off my spit-up-soaked clothes and tossed them on the floor.
“Oh hell!” I shriek on a whisper, a hand going to my chest as I take a step back. The dark circles under my eyes could pass for UFO crop activity, and my hair looks like I stuck my finger in an electrical socket. I am a dark-haired Christopher Lloyd in Back to the Future, and the clock tower is chiming.
On a groan, I slap my hands over my eyes. “How did I get this bad in a day?”
I mean, sure, I’ve been struggling for the entire six weeks since Izzy was born, but I pulled it together this morning. I put on Valentino, for God’s sake. Now I look like a gutter rat who lives under the subway.
Shaking my head at myself and pointedly avoiding looking in the mirror again, I lean into the shower to turn on the water and let my naked body sink to the floor while I wait for the spray to warm.
I look to the ceiling and take a deep breath.
“I’m trying, Isabella,” I whisper as my eyes fixate on a barely there crack in the white paint above me.
Truthfully, I don’t know if some spiritual part of her can hear me or not, but I find myself saying it anyway.
“I don’t know what I’m doing, and I didn’t prepare well enough,” I continue quietly, hoping my sister isn’t disappointed in me. “I always feel like I can’t quite be who Izzy needs, you know? I miss you. I’m sure Izzy misses you. And I just wish I could figure out how to be second best.”
I can’t explain it, but a shiver moves over me as I hear a clank from Remy in the other room. I listen harder then, and that’s when I realize that the crying has stopped.
Calling him was a good start, the words move through my mind. You don’t have to go it alone.
My head falls back into the solid wood of my bathroom vanity, and the steam from the hot water of the shower starts to roll out over the glass door.
Get up, I tell myself. Get up and get in the shower and just keep putting one foot in front of the other.
I stand and open the door to feel the water. It’s almost scalding, just like I need it to be to wash away the stress. To sterilize me to the point of a fresh start. To remind my nerves they can feel something other than the overstimulation of motherhood and Izzy’s cries.
