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)
“Do we have a deal?”
When she just stares up at me, I take that as her silent agreement and head out of the nursery and toward the kitchen to make Izzy a bottle.
And as I pass by the couch, I’m elated to see Maria is still sound asleep.
“Looks like we’re about to have a sleepover tonight, Izzy,” I whisper to her as I step into the kitchen. “Surely as long as I keep the bottles coming, you won’t mind, right?”
When her tiny butt lets out a loud fart against my hand, I take that as her approval.
My phone buzzes in my pocket as I prep Izzy’s bottle, and I take a quick glance at the screen to see more messages from my brothers. A lot more messages, in fact.
I decide it’ll be best for them—and especially for me—to put them out of their nosy-as-hell misery. With my free hand, I type out a quick text.
Me: Listen, you crazy fuckers, I’m a little busy tonight, but I’ll give you the scoop soon.
Just like with my sister and my mom, at one point, Maria was a big part of their lives too. They deserve to know the truth. Deserve to know the circumstances surrounding Maria’s life. Deserve to know that two people who were a part of their youth are no longer with us.
Jude: Fucking finally!
Ty: How soon?
Me: I can free up some time tomorrow after I take Lex to the Mavs game.
More texts vibrate through, but when Izzy squirms in my arms, I ignore them, put my phone back in my pocket, and look down at her. “Keeping you happy and giving your momma rest is the priority tonight, sweetheart.”
Everything and everyone else can wait.
Sunday, October 6th
Maria
For the first time in I don’t know how long, I wake up simply because my body decides it’s time. Not because there’s a tiny human screaming or a cramp in my still-recovering uterus or because I had a dream that babies suddenly can’t breathe if their moms are asleep. My body’s clock finally got to ring its own bell, and the feeling is somewhat disorienting.
I rub a hand down my face and sit up, only then realizing that I’m not in my bed. Instead, I’m on my couch, and the waistband of my jeans has officially fused itself to the center of my stomach.
“Ow,” I mutter, rubbing softly at the harsh indentations in my skin.
Looking from side to side, sleep confusion still clinging to the edges of my consciousness, I search the room for something. There’s something important, something I need to—oh my God, Izzy! I have a baby named Izzy!
I shoot up to standing like I’m a bullet being shot from a gun, her empty bouncy chair making my heart kick into overdrive.
Where is she? What in the hell time is it? How did I forget about her for even a second?
I run from one end of the living room to the other, thought and strategy both things of the past. The sun is so bright it blinds my sensitive eyes, tripping me out even more. Holy shit, it’s morning already? On my next panicked jog from one end of the room to the other, I catch sight of the clock beneath the TV—9:03 a.m.
Oh my God. OH MY GOD.
It’s then, in a desperate effort to prevent self-destruction, that my brain calculates the events of last night, and I remember that Remy was here.
Oh yeah. Is he still here? Does he have Izzy? Please, God, let him have Izzy.
“Remy?” I call out and sprint into the kitchen, for what, I don’t know, only to backtrack and make a beeline toward her nursery.
“Remy!” I shout, my voice rising with panic.
Did something happen to them? How in the hell did I sleep through at least two of Izzy’s feedings? Is she okay? Is she alive? Holy shit, I’m the worst mom in the whole wide world!
Instantly, tears prick my eyes, and my bottom lip quivers.
“Remy!” Emotion hovers along the edges of my voice as I move like a madwoman down the hallway, turning to crash through her door like the Kool-Aid man, when a hard body stops me and pushes me back and away from the door slightly.
“I’m right here,” Remy consoles, his two strong hands working gently on my shoulders.
“Where’s the baby?” I nearly shout. “Is she okay? Did something—”
“Hey, it’s okay. She’s okay,” he reassures in a hushed voice. “I just fed her a bottle about two hours ago, and she’s sound asleep in her crib.”
Her crib? Somehow, he got her to sleep in her crib? Izzy never wants to sleep in her crib.
What kind of Twilight Zone have I woken up in?
“Just take a deep breath, Ria,” he adds with the kind of gentleness in his voice that could melt concrete into a puddle. “Izzy is fine. I promise.”