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Her beauty is an eleven on a scale of ten in the most intrinsic of ways. Anyone who meets her can see that.
We’ve been mostly silent for the first ten minutes of the walk, but now that we’re nearing a mile into it, her vocal cords start to limber up. “Okay. I have to admit, this is pretty freaking fantastic. I honestly didn’t realize how good doing some exercise that doesn’t involve rushing to a showing or listing appointment could feel.”
“Everything feels different when you’ve had a nap and a shower.” I nod down toward a sleeping Izzy at my chest. “Even she knows that.”
“Well, thanks. I owe you.”
“You don’t owe me anything. This is what you do for people you care about.”
“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” she asks, and her tone is light and airy. “A new set of golf clubs, maybe?”
I laugh. “It’d have to be a first set. I don’t golf.”
“Shoot. For some reason, I was getting that vibe about adult Remy.”
“A golfer? Really? I’m giving that vibe?”
She shrugs, her smile climbing her cheeks and right into her eyes. “Well, yeah. But I don’t think I’ve ever met an actual golfer, so I guess you can take it with a grain of salt.”
“What else? What other crazy things is my aura telling you about me?”
“Your aura?” she questions on a cute guffaw. “Who have you been hanging out with, Remy? New age crystal healers? Psychic mediums?”
“Fortune-tellers,” I answer, but she has no idea how true that statement is. “My aura. My vibe. Whatever you want to call it, babe. What other crazy things is it telling you about adult Remy?”
“Hmm.” She smacks her lips together and tsks her tongue dramatically. “Okay, let me see. I’m getting a weekly gym rat vibe and twice-a-day shower thing from you. I think you’re a pretty routine guy. Love to frequent the same restaurants and can’t start your day without a black coffee. Although, I have a feeling, every once in a while, you go wild and order one of those sugary coffees with whipped cream. It’s a guilty pleasure of yours and probably has an unhealthy amount of caramel.” She scrunches up her nose in disgust. “And I also get the overwhelming feeling that you secretly love the early episodes of Sex in the City.”
She hit the nail on the head on all but one thing.
“Can’t say I’ve ever watched that show.” I waggle my eyebrows. “But I’ve always liked the title.”
She grins. “You’d like the show too, trust me. Not in a, like, oh man, I love this storyline kind of way. But you’d, at the very least, get a kick out of Samantha.”
“Samantha?”
“She’s brutally honest, hilarious, and very sexually open.”
“Sounds promising for this adult me you’ve envisioned. Maybe I’ll fit in a few episodes after my next golf outing.”
Maria laughs. “What do you see about me, then? Now that we’re old?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m old. You’re beautiful.”
She turns her head to the side a little, just enough to absorb the compliment in some privacy, and my phone buzzes in my pocket. Normally, I would ignore it and enjoy the view of Maria blushing a little at my words, but since I’m hoping it’ll be an update from my sister, I quickly check the message.
Winnie: Cleaners are going there next. Should be done by 6 or so.
Perfect. Everything is going to plan.
Me: Thanks, sis.
I tuck the phone into my pocket and return my focus to Maria and her question. What do I think of her as an adult? I think she’s fucking flawless.
“Okay, let’s see. Maria Baros as an adult.” I ponder for a moment, letting my eyes search hers as though all the answers are just inside. A bevy of secrets and clues, just floating around in her pretty brown gaze.
“I think you stay up late sometimes, even when you know you have to be up early, just to rebel against your neat and tidy schedule a little. You watch late-night infomercials and order products that you end up donating or hiding in the closet when you see them in the light of day. And you still make time to watch that ridiculous soap opera General Hospital every day, even with how busy you are with work.”
She laughs. “Hey, don’t knock my show. General Hospital has some of the longest-running relationships I’ve ever known.”
I laugh, remembering just a tiny sliver of detail from our days of watching it together after school. “Are Sonny and Carly still together?”
“Not right now. But they have seven kids and, as you know, are always on-again, off-again.”
“Aha!” I declare. “So, I was right. You do still watch it.”
“Not every episode!” she defends through a giggle. “I don’t have the time. But I catch about one every two weeks or so, and it’s easy enough to keep up.”
