Page 477 of The Winslow Brothers

I turn her in my arms to swing her slightly as she fusses a little. I give her nose a quick brush of mine that makes her relax, and then I turn and present her to all of Central Park Prideland. As planned, the music fromThe Lion Kingcrashes into full volume from the speaker of my phone, and I fall into my stance with pride.

“An heir!” I yell into the distance so loud that strangers start to turn and look.

Maria’s face turns beet red in an instant, but there’s a subtle smile there too as she buries her face into her hands.

Of course, that reaction only makes me yell louder. “An heir has been born!”

And Izzy is my ride-or-die, stretching her little neck like she’s watched this movie before.

A couple of passersby amused by our display stop and even bow down to the new Queen of Pride Rock. “Congratulations!” one exclaims. “She’s gorgeous!”

“Lord help me, you’re crazy!” Maria shouts up toward us, her embarrassment receding and giving way to the kind of genuine smile I was going for. She plays it cool, though, just to keep me on my toes. “And where are Scar and the hyenas when you need them?”

“You wish harm on poor Simba?” I call, tucking Izzy to my chest and covering her ears dramatically.

“No, no. Just Mufasa. The big, cocky prick.”

A couple of straggling strangers laugh at that, and a smile spreads from one corner of my mouth to the other.

“Can you come down here now?” Maria requests with a stubborn hand to her hip. “Or do I have to call your mother?”

I laugh. “Wendy would be thrilled to hear from you.”

“You know, I think a couple of decades hanging out with your brothers has really had an effect on you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms with a nod. “Baboons tend to breed more baboons. Just ask Rafiki.”

“Was Rafiki a baboon?” I find myself asking, and Maria rolls her eyes.

“How about you come back down here, and I’ll tell you.”

I smirk, satisfied with the awakening of Maria’s humor that my little stunt has caused. That was the goal. To cut through the exhaustion with fresh air and antics and remind Maria that she’s human. That even when she’s feeling like she’s trappedat the bottom of a deep well of darkness and unknowns and unexpected motherhood, the breath of fresh air she’s looking for is just a short walk away.

God, it’s good to see her again.

When I don’t move, Maria tosses out both of her hands in front of her and eyes me with a squint. “Remy? What are you doing?”

“Just trying to decide if I should come back down. Does trouble await me at the bottom?”

“You know, I almost forgot how freaking ridiculous you are.” Her smile is so big it clones itself, jumps onto the rock beneath my feet, rolls up through my toes, and reveals itself on my own face.

“What’s the verdict? Am I in trouble?”

“Only the good kind, you lunatic.”

Only the good kind.

Man oh man, do those words give me déjà vu.

Twenty-Eight Years Ago…

Junior year, early October

Remy

“It’s going to be okay, babe,” I tell Maria as we walk out of her doctor’s office.

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