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“Are you trying to charm me, Remington? Because it’s starting to feel like you’re tossing an awful lot of smooth-talking my way today.” I quirk a defiant eyebrow at him, and he just shrugs one shoulder.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Is it working?”
I roll my eyes. “When I was sixteen? Most definitely. But now? Not after I got a look at myself in the mirror before we left my apartment.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he retorts. “You’re freshly showered and gorgeous.”
“I might be showered, but I’m still a sleep-deprived, overworked, postpartum mess of anxiety,” I correct him. “I’m surviving. That’s about as far as it goes.”
Seriously. This isn’t even me being insecure. It’s my current reality. There is no way on God’s green earth that my current frazzled state lands me in the top one billion of beautiful women. Being a new mom is not easy. Especially when the term “new mom” holds so much more weight than I ever thought it would when I first found out I was pregnant.
“Well, I think you’re gorgeous. And I’m certain, if Izzy were awake, she would agree.”
I snort. “Izzy can’t talk.”
“She’d think it.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how it works, but okay.”
Remy just grins and places a gentle hand to my lower back to guide us toward a park bench. “She’s out. I think we can take a load off for a minute.”
We sit down just as a young, thirtysomething mother runs past us, trying to wrangle a small toddler back into his stroller.
“Henry!” she shouts, and he just giggles and giggles, his fat little legs churning faster whenever his mom gets close.
Henry the toddler screeches like a pterodactyl, and his poor mother exhales an exasperated breath, sweat already starting a path on her brow. “Henry, honey, it’s time to go home.”
“No!” Henry shouts and stomps one gym-shoe-covered foot to the ground. He crosses his fat little arms over his chest and tries to stand his ground, but his mom isn’t having any of it. In an instant, she whisks him up and into her arms and toward the stroller he keeps refusing to sit in.
The toddler screams and cries the whole way, his little arms and legs kicking and smacking his mom as they go.
Holy moly. What’s it going to be like when Izzy is no longer an infant, but a toddler like little Henry over there? Will she be just like him? Screeching and demanding and not listening to anything I tell her? God help me.
I can’t manage Izzy and my work schedule as it is, and she’s only six weeks old. Even when she’s crying or upset, I can at least keep her secure in my arms or in her stroller or baby carrier or her vibrating swing when I’m really desperate.
But when she’s a toddler? What in the hell am I going to do?
“Maria?”
Evidently a liar wrote the last book I read, talking about how it gets easier after the newborn stage.
“Maria?” Remy’s voice stresses, his extra effort at getting my attention obvious now.
“Hmmm?” I respond, but I still can’t pull my eyes away from little Henry and his mom as she fights to get him strapped into his stroller.
“You okay?”
I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting here, falling down the rabbit hole of future fears and watching Henry turn into the Incredible Hulk, but the concerned look in Remy’s eyes says it’s been a few minutes too long.
Am I okay? No. Not really. I mean, the current circumstances of my life would probably equate to most people not being okay, but I refuse to drag Remy into my pit of anxious misery. He’s already done enough for me as it is today.
“Yeah, of course.” I offer a little white lie and force a small smile to my lips. “I’m good.”
“I think it’s time for a little change in scenery.” He reaches out to pat a gentle hand to my thigh. “What do you say we go grab an early dinner? I mean, truthfully, you’ve still left me hanging since the first time I asked you.”
I raise a questioning brow. “The first time?”
“After we got trapped in the elevator in Ty’s building,” he expands. “Consider it a redo, kind of like how we got to experience the blackout-elevator situation twice.”
“But only, with this redo, you won’t have to deliver a baby,” I state on a snort. “Because I sure as hell am not going through that again.”
“The only baby in attendance will be this one,” he responds on a soft chuckle and reaches out to brush a rogue piece of hair out of my eyes. “A much more laid-back redo, if you will.”
“Laid-back sounds perfect.”
Remy carefully stands up from the park bench, one hand providing stability on Izzy’s back as he gets to his feet. And then, he holds out his hand toward me. “C’mon, Maria, let’s go enjoy a meal together.”
