There was a moment’s silence, and when she replied the confusion was clear in her voice. Not that I’d have expected anything else. “At Remy’s?”
“Yeah.” I sighed loudly, feeling lost for my best friend, and if I was honest, a little pissed at the baby’s mom for not telling him sooner, so he had months to prepare instead of hours. “You’re the only one I can think of who’ll know what to do.”
I heard the sound of her moving around, and then she spoke. “Give me ten minutes. Do you want me to come into the house or meet you outside?”
“In it.”
“Do I need to bring anything with me?”
I couldn’t help it—I looked around at the plastic sacks I could see with stuff Remy had bought at the store and thought about the other shit he’d described that was lying somewhere else in the house and almost laughed.
“Uh, no. Just your brain.”
“’Kay. See you in ten.”
Hanging up, I turned to talk to Remy and froze when I saw the expression on his face. He’d looked tortured up to this point, but now he looked like he’d lost someone.
“Are you thinking about Carrie?”
He huffed out a humorless laugh. “No, and doesn’t that make me the biggest asshole in existence. I’m not thinking about my kid’s recently deceased mom. I’m thinking about what Santana is gonna think of me when she hears all this shit.”
“You like her.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. I already knew he did, I just hadn’t guessed how deep it went for him.
He’d just opened his mouth to answer when there was a soft knock at the door. “Guess it didn’t take her ten minutes to get here after all.”
Giving him a look that said he was to stay put, I opened the door.
“Come on in.” As she went to walk past me into the house, I murmured, “You might wanna brace for what you’re about to hear.”
True to her nature, she didn’t pepper me with questions. No, she just looked at me, raised her chin, and then followed me through to the kitchen, not saying a word until I’d laid out all the details.
Even then, her expression never changed, and she didn’t look at Remy once.
Finally, she spoke. “Can I see Toby?”
Glancing at Remy, I saw his head jerk at the shortened name. I had to admit, I liked Tobias, but Toby was cute for a baby.
Straightening from where he’d been leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, Remy rasped, “He’s through here.”
As she was looking into the bassinet on the floor in the living room, I saw her face soften, and a small smile work its way onto her face. Then, gently skimming her finger over Toby’s hand, she nodded.
“He’s beautiful. I wasn’t sure you’d have a bassinet or somewhere for him to sleep y—”
“I’m not a fucking idiot,” Remy snapped, and the smile dropped from her face so quickly I felt like hitting him the back of his head. “Of course he has something to sleep in until I can get him a cot and whatever other shit he needs.”
“Remy,” I growled, the warning clear in my voice. “She didn’t mean it like that.”
Tensing his jaw, he jerked his chin at me and then looked back at Santana, but the expression on her face made it clear she was thinking twice about this. Shit.
Not wanting to lose this source of help for him and for her to be hurt, I urged, “You were saying?”
I didn’t miss her eyes flicking toward the door like she was considering making a run for it, and judging by how he tensed, neither did Remy.
Finally, though, she sighed. “I was only going to say if Toby didn’t have one, I could have found something to make do until the stores opened. Can I see what else you bought, and then I’ll write down what I can remember from babysitting and from when Hart was little.”
Gesturing toward the bags piled up in the corner of the room, I chuckled. “Remy got one of everything he could find, so we need to organize them in size and figure out what the kid needs now.”
One side of her mouth tipped up in a smile, but she avoided looking at Remy when she turned back to me. “That makes my job easier, then. At least we have stuff to work with.”
Remy cleared his throat and shifted slightly. “Thanks for helping. I appreciate it.” His voice was rough, and it was clear he was struggling, but then, judging by the look on Santana’s face, so was she.
Unrequited and unfulfilled love was a bitch.
Life was a dancefloor, and you had to choose your moves and what rhythm you were moving to. These two had the dancefloor, they just hadn’t picked their song yet. And I wasn’t sure they ever would after tonight. That made me sad because my girl made music for us every day, and we danced perfectly together. Remy and Santana deserved that.