Page 475 of The Winslow Brothers

She laughs at that, and finally, a carefree smile breaks loose.There’s the girl I remember.

“All right, Mr. Muscles. Fine. Carry my stuff. See if I care.” She holds out the backpack for me to take, and I swing it up and onto my back gently, so as not to jostle Izzy too much. Her little eyes are looking sleepy again, and if I play my cards right, I have a feeling she’ll be back to baby dreamland by the time we step outside.

“Come on, ladies,” I say, ushering Maria forward and putting a soft hand to her back. “The park awaits.”

Maria’s smile is noticeable as she glances back over her shoulder at me, and I give myself a mental pat on the back for helping to put it there. It’s empowering—being able to be the thing that someone needs when they need it most.

In the past, I’ve mostly taken that role for my siblings, but this…I don’t know…it feels even better.

Since it’s only a short walk across the street from her apartment, it doesn’t take us long to reach Central Park. It’s pretty busy, but no more than I’d expect on a Saturday in early fall. The crowd isn’t cloying or suffocating, just present.

The sun feels warm, and I roll up my sleeves to let some of it soak into my skin.

After Maria snags one of Izzy’s hats from the backpack on my back and secures it on her little head, she follows my lead and does the same, rolling up the sleeves of her sweater and letting the sun hit her skin. She even closes her eyes occasionally and turns her face up into the warmth.

I watch, involuntarily enthralled by the sight of her face so at ease. She’s truly one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen, and I don’t even mean that in the affectionate, subjective way that can happen when you care about someone.

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?”

“Youraura?” 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 ofSex 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?”

---