Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 140767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
“Well…uh…” She pauses and digs her teeth into her bottom lip. “My mom has been gone for a long time now. She died of a brain aneurysm when I was thirty.”
The unexpected news pulls at my heartstrings. And it makes me sad that I had no idea. That I didn’t get to attend her funeral or offer any kind of support to Maria.
I can’t imagine losing my mother now, much less when I was thirty. Wendy Winslow is the pillar of our family. She’s everything to me.
“Damn, Maria. I’m so sorry. I always loved your mom.”
“Me too.” Her smile is sad, and her face softens in a way that seems overly irreverent. In a way that makes me a little nervous, to be honest.
“Are you okay?” I ask, hoping I haven’t somehow said something to upset her. “Are you feeling sick again?”
“No…” She shakes her head once…twice…and then sighs heavily as it falls back to the wall of the elevator with a thud. “My, uh…my sister…Isabella…she passed away too.”
“What?” I question because there’s no way that could be the truth. Isabella was always a vibrant, sweet, and kind girl. I adored her. And to wrap my mind around the fact that she’s no longer here…it feels impossible. “H-how?”
“A little over six months ago,” she explains, and her bottom lip quivers with emotion. “She and her husband both, actually. A tragic helicopter crash when they were on their way to the Hamptons for a vacation.”
Both her mom and her sister? Fuck.
“Oh my God, Maria… I’m so sorr—”
“No.” She clucks her tongue. “Please. I appreciate the sentiment, but one sorry is enough.” She swipes one lone tear from her cheek. It makes my chest feel like it’s cracked in half. “I swear, I’m not going to get all emotional on you. It’s just…the way you talked about your sister and Wes. It just made me miss them—miss the way they were together. But I promise, I’m okay.”
Maria’s relationship with Isabella always reminded me a lot of Winnie and me. I honestly don’t know how I’d cope with something like that.
“I don’t know what to say, Ri. I wish there was something to say.”
She laughs then, and it’s startling. It’s so out of sync with the conversation we’re having, and once again, it puts me on edge for some reason.
“I don’t think even God himself would know what to say here, Rem. This…situation is far more complicated than just me losing my baby sister and my brother-in-law.”
I quirk a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Well…” She pauses, rubs a hand over her rounded belly, and her lungs let out a deep, emotional sigh. “This baby right here isn’t my biological child. It’s theirs. Isabella’s and Oliver’s. My sister and her husband.”
“No.” It’s the only thing I can say, and I know it’s not right. But I’ll be damned if I can come up with anything else.
She nods, a little self-deprecating laugh mixing with a couple more unchecked tears. “She needed a surrogate and my uterus wasn’t doing anything.”
I know she doesn’t want to hear one particular five-letter word again, but it’s the only thing I feel like I can say right now.
“God, Maria. I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs and rubs at her belly unconsciously. “I just wish I knew what the hell I’m doing. My life has revolved around my career for the past two decades, and now, I’m supposed to figure out how to be a good mom?” She shakes her head. “I never had time to be in a relationship with someone, and now, I’m supposed to know how to take care of another human being? I mean, I didn’t think I’d ever have kids of my own. I didn’t… Well, I guess I didn’t think a lot of things.”
My mind wants to fixate on the reality that she’s doing all of this alone. Without a significant other. Without her mom. Without her sister.
But I know that’s the opposite of what she needs to focus on right now. She knows. God, she knows. The last thing she needs is me droning on about it.
No. Instead, she needs encouragement.
“That’s where you’re going wrong,” I tell her, and her face pinches in confusion.
“What’s where I’m going wrong?”
“Trying to know what the hell you’re doing ahead of time. It’s impossible. I’ve never met a parent who’s said things turned out like they expected. It’s always overwhelming. It’s always a shitshow.”
“But—”
“No.” I shake my head and lean forward to squeeze her knee. “It’s the truth, Maria. Kids are good at one thing, and that’s being all the things you don’t expect.”
She laughs, frightened. “Great.”
“I’m just saying, you think you’re behind, but you’re not. You’re right on target with where you’re supposed to be. When the baby is born…that’s when you’ll start to figure it out.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so. It’s statistically proven.”