The Redo (Winslow Brothers #4) Read Online Max Monroe

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Winslow Brothers Series by Max Monroe
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Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 140767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
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He settles onto the floor and immediately kneels beside me. I wish I could say I was presenting myself as something other than a wadded-up ball of desperation, but I’m afraid not.

His smile is gentle and tender and makes me want to cry a thousand tears as he reaches up and wipes some of the sweat-slicked hair away from my face and whispers, “Honestly, Maria, getting stuck inside my building’s elevator is a really strange way to see me again. You could’ve just called.”

This is his building. Go figure.

“Very funny,” I answer through a hard jaw as another contraction rolls through my body like a freight train.

“Seriously, babe. We have to stop meeting like this.”

I nod fervently at that. “I never realized I’m even in elevators this much, for goodness’ sake.”

“Maria, I think it’s safe to say, you’re going to have a baby today.”

I close my eyes and shake my head, full denial the only thing I’m still trying to hold on to. “No. No, I’m not. Maybe tomorrow? Yeah, probably tomorrow.”

“Pretty sure it’s happening now, hun,” he corrects me with a soft but knowing smile. “But it’s going to be okay. You’re doing an amazing job. And just think, the hard part is over.”

“The hard part is over?” I scoff. “Remy, last time I checked, the baby’s still inside. I think there’s a lot of hard shit to go.”

He nods with a smile but reaches down to grab my hand and squeeze. “Yeah. But you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I’m here.”

“Just like having a doctor.” It’s a little rude and unnecessarily snippy, given that he’s literally knight in shining armor-ing for me right now, but I’m in so much pain, I think I’ve earned some testiness. Still, I feel badly enough to wince and apologize. “Sorry, but it hurts.”

“Maria,” he says with a chuckle. “Don’t worry about me. You can curse me up and down if it helps. You worry about you, and you worry about this baby. Let me deal with the rest.”

“Am I really having my sister’s baby today? I just…I need you to pinch me.” Emotion clogs my throat as the gravity of everything in my life that’s changed in the last several months hits me square in the chest. “I can’t believe any of this is real.”

Isabella should be here for this.

Remy strokes the hair at the side of my face again and squeezes my hand. “You can do it, Ri. I promise. I’ve never met a woman I thought could do it more.”

I’m momentarily taken aback by the genuine nature of his compliment. “Really?”

“God yes. You’ve been through more than ninety percent of people I know and, somehow, managed to come out on the other side even stronger. Beautiful. Successful. Kind. You’re going to be the best thing this baby can have with the hand it—she, he? Is it a boy or a girl?”

“I don’t know yet. My sister wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Looks like we’re about to be surprised today, then.”

I nod resolutely then, fully accepting the fact that this is happening, and I can do it. I have to. End of story.

“Okay, Rem. You can stop Tony Robbins-ing my ass. I’m ready and willing. God help us both.”

He laughs. “I was going for a more Bear Grylls type of thing, but Tony Robbins works too.”

“Sorry, Charlie. This talk was nowhere near tough enough for Bear Grylls.”

“I can be tougher.”

“No,” I say through a half laugh, half groan. “Please. Don’t.”

“Okay, okay,” Remy consoles with a grin. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Goo—ahhhhhhhhh—ood!” I try to respond while simultaneously howling in pain over a peaking contraction. “Holy chickens in a coop, this hurtsss!”

Remy rubs at my arm and my hand and my leg, seeming desperate to comfort the impossible. The truth is, babies fucking hurt. I don’t care what people want to try to tell you when they’re not in the throes of a currently epidural-less labor, but shooting a baby cannonball through a very small hole is one of the worst ideas someone has ever had on this planet. I’ll sign a notarized statement and present it to a judge.

“Do you think you can stand up?” he asks, clearly trying to get me out of this elevator so I can have this baby in a hospital like a normal woman.

I want to nod yes. I want to agree and get to my feet and magically find myself in a hospital bed with a staff of doctors and nurses around me. You know, so they can give me all the drugs that will make this not hurt so fucking much.

But what I want and what my body wants are two very different things.

“I want to stand, I do, but the pressure, Rem. The fucking pressu—” I can’t even continue to speak when another contraction takes root.



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