Page 28 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

Preston shook his head. “Sadly, I lost both of them in September. I got them when I first moved here, so they were with me for fourteen years. I took their loss pretty hard.”

Chelsea was shocked. “Fourteen years?”

“Some clownfish can live more than twenty years in aquariums. I got these guys around Thanksgiving.”

“Let me guess,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “Harry and Meghan? Beyonce and Jay-Z? Taylor and Travis?”

Preston was amused by her guesses and slightly nervous about answering the question. “Nope.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense.”

Preston pointed to one of the fish. “That’s BFG, and over there, hiding in the aquarium plants, is Joy.”

Chelsea’s humor gave way to something different, but just as nice. She looked…touched. “You named them after us?”

“The night we spent together was one of the best of my life, Chelsea. And I felt that way before I learned about him .” He gestured toward their son. “Now it’s not one of the best but the best. Because it gave us Lennon.”

Chelsea didn’t reply, but he wasn’t concerned about her silence because she didn’t appear to disagree. It was more like he’d rendered her speechless…in a good way. There was a glassy sheen of tears in her eyes that she tried to blink away.

He placed his hand on her back, turning her toward the hallway.

“Come on. We better finish this tour before Lennon wakes up.” He guided her down the hall, pointing out the laundry room, his office, and then the guest room.

“I was thinking of turning this into the nursery. It’s right across from my room. ”

Chelsea entered the guest room, running her finger along the dresser.

“There’s plenty of room in here for a crib, and I could set the changing table up on the dresser.

I was planning to paint those shelves white to brighten the room, and they’re large enough for books and toys.

For now, I was thinking of leaving the bed.

” He didn’t add that he was hoping to convince her to spend some nights here with Lennon.

In his ideal world, she’d be in bed with him , but they were a long way away from that, especially if…

“Chelsea, are you seeing someone?” he blurted, before he could chicken out again.

She seemed surprised by his question, so much so she didn’t see his immediate relief when she instantly shook her head. “No. No one. You?”

Preston had to fight to draw in air because her answer knocked all the breath from his lungs. He wasn’t sure who he’d seen kissing her on the sidewalk, but it was clear, given her direct response that the man meant nothing to her.

He didn’t even try to hide his smile, which was clearly too big for the situation, because Chelsea gave him a look. He probably appeared unhinged, but he didn’t care. She wasn’t dating anyone. She was single.

Despite the mountain of issues standing between them and Preston’s hopes for their future, he suddenly felt excited and ready to tackle every concern until he reached his true goal, the one he hadn’t said to Chelsea yet.

He hadn’t lied about wanting to spend every minute he could with his son, but what he hadn’t said was that he wanted Chelsea to be there too. Preston didn’t merely want to co-parent. He wanted them to be a family—a real family.

“I’m not dating anyone,” he replied.

“Still a hopeless romantic?” She licked her lips somewhat nervously.

“Something like that.”

They stared at each other for several long moments. Preston was tempted to cut the distance, to go to her, but her posture was too stiff, too…uneasy. He wasn’t sure what was going through her mind, but clearly something was holding her back.

After a minute or two, she cleared her throat. “It’s a lovely room, Preston.” Chelsea was slipping back into that anxious state, so he opted for distraction.

“And this,” he said, leading her across the hall, “is my bedroom.”

She followed him, her eyes taking in everything. “It’s so nice in here. Tasteful. Elegant, even.”

“What were you imagining?” he asked with a grin. “Black silk sheets? Mirrored ceiling? Notches on the bedpost?”

She smirked. “Only the first two. I didn’t think you’d be tacky enough to keep count with tick marks.”

Preston wrapped his arm around her shoulders, ruffling her hair playfully. “Smart-ass.”

She tried to bat his hand away, the game ending when they heard Lennon’s cry from the living room.

Walking back down the hall, Chelsea started to pick him up, then stopped herself. “You want to hold him?”

Preston nodded eagerly, stepping next to her so that he could bend down to lift their son from the bassinet.

Lennon had stopped fussing the moment he saw them, his tiny hands waving wildly.

Picking him up carefully, Preston nestled the tiny baby in the crook of his arm, overwhelmed once again by the sheer power of his emotions.

This kid was fucking everything.

Chelsea smiled at the two of them for a moment, then walked back to the bags they’d left on the floor.

“What the heck is in all the bags?” Preston crossed over to stand next to her, swaying as Lennon looked at him.

“Going anywhere with a baby is no small production,” Chelsea said, opening the first bag. “I got two playmats at my baby shower, so I thought I’d bring one to leave here. Saves you buying one yourself.”

Preston watched as she snapped a couple pieces together, then placed it on the carpeted floor. “Would you prefer I put it in the guest room?”

“No. It’s great right there.” Preston figured Chelsea would look at him like he was nuts if he told her how much he loved seeing all the baby stuff—and her and Lennon—in his space.

Chelsea took several bottles of milk out of a smaller cooler. “Mind if I put these in the fridge?”

“Not at all.”

Returning, she opened what Preston assumed was the typical diaper bag. Inside, in addition to diapers and wipes, he saw burping cloths, a couple more sleepers, and a pacifier. “He probably needs to be changed. Want to do the honors?”

While he had two nieces, he hadn’t seen them more than a handful of times while they were still in the diaper phase, so he’d never changed a diaper in his life. “I’m going to need you to talk me through it.”

“You got it.”

He placed Lennon on the changing pad attached to the playpen. It took him a ridiculous amount of time to get the small baby’s legs out of the sleeper. “He’s got one hell of a kick,” Preston observed.

“He’s a strong one, all right. Just like his daddy,” Chelsea added.

Once Lennon’s legs were free, Preston pulled the tabs on the diaper, peering inside and breathing a sigh of relief when he realized this diaper only contained pee.

“You got lucky,” Chelsea mused. “Because once you smell baby shit, it imprints on your olfactory senses hard.”

“Something to look forward to,” he replied sarcastically.

“Okay. Just grab his ankles and lift him…”

Preston followed her directions, doing as she said. Tugging the wet diaper out, Chelsea quickly slid the clean one under him as Preston held on to the squirming infant. “It’s like wrestling an alligator.”

“It really is,” she agreed. “And you have to move fast because I’ve been soaked by more than a few of your son’s Old Faithful impersonations.”

Preston laughed. “Oh, so he’s my son when he pees on you.”

“Absolutely.”

Preston rolled his eyes, while inside he was doing somersaults, delighted that Chelsea seemed a little more at ease with him assuming the father role.

It took another couple of minutes for him to wrangle Lennon’s legs back into the sleeper and get it zipped.

“What’s next?” he asked.

“He’s probably getting hungry. It’s been a few hours since his last bottle. Ready for the feeding tutorial? It’s way easier than the diaper one.”

“Hit me with it.”

Chelsea grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator, then showed him how to prop his arm up on a pillow to make it easier to hold Lennon. The second Preston offered him the bottle, Lennon latched on, gulping the milk down like he was starving.

Chelsea giggled. “You would think I never feed him.”

“Another thing he gets from me. I have a big appetite.”

Chelsea sat down next to Preston on the couch, tucking one leg under her as she faced him and Lennon. “You’re doing really well.”

“Thanks.”

“So…have you told your parents about him yet?”

He nodded. “I called them yesterday morning. And it was just as I suspected. They want to meet him. They’re insisting on coming for Christmas now. I told them I needed to talk to you first.”

“They should definitely meet him,” she said quickly.

What Preston didn’t say was that his parents were just as excited to meet Chelsea.

He and his folks—despite the distance—were close, so they knew all about the woman he’d met at an Ugly Christmas Sweater party who’d stolen his heart, then vanished into thin air.

Mom cried when Preston told her he’d found her, equally convinced she was the one for her too-long-single son.

“Mom is over the moon. My brother has two girls, so Lennon is their first grandson. Given it’s been just over twenty-four hours, it’s probably a safe bet that she’s made six Target runs and bought at least fifty outfits for him.”

“That’s sweet.”

“I guess at some point, we should talk about the holidays. Are you going to be in Baltimore?”

“Oh yeah. I’ll be here. He’s too little to travel with, given all the stuff I’d need to pack for him. I mean, you see how much I needed to bring today, and you helped me out by providing the playpen/bassinet/changing pad thing.”

“It is quite the haul. So, maybe you and Lennon could come here on Christmas Day for a little while to meet my parents. Or we could come to you,” he offered.

“We’ll come here, and we can stay as long as you’d like. I’m taking breaks from my mom whenever I can get them.” Chelsea closed her eyes and sighed. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to keep sounding so ungrateful when it comes to my mother.”

“What’s going on with her?” This was the second time Chelsea had mentioned being unhappy with her mother.

“I love my mom,” she started.