Page 34 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

Chapter Eleven

“Oh my goodness. Let me steal one more squeeze and then I swear I’m leaving.”

Preston chuckled, and Dad rolled his eyes because this was the fourth “last” squeeze Mom had stolen, struggling—like Preston had the first time he’d met Lennon—to let the baby go.

Chelsea stood nearby, smiling widely, clearly touched by Mom’s instant love for their son.

“We’re all doing breakfast in the morning, Mom,” Preston reminded her. “So you can snuggle him all you want over eggs and bacon.”

Mom finally relented, handing Lennon back to Preston before turning to Chelsea, her arms outstretched. “Let me steal one more hug from you too, sweetheart.”

Mom was a big hugger, always had been, and so far, over the course of the afternoon, Chelsea had been subjected to no less than a half dozen of her embraces. Not that she seemed to mind.

Just like she didn’t this time.

Chelsea stepped forward, the two women hugging. “It was so nice to meet you, Grace,” she said. Mom had insisted Chelsea call her by her first name rather than Mrs. Jacobson.

“You too, Chelsea.” They parted, but Mom clasped hands with her. “Lennon is absolutely precious. You’ve given me the greatest gift this year.”

After they parted, Dad stepped in, grabbing his own hug. “I’m glad you and Preston found each other again.”

“Me too,” Chelsea confessed.

“A beautiful family,” Dad mused, his voice low, even though everyone heard him. Preston’s gaze darted to Chelsea to gauge her reaction, and he was touched by the way she smiled, then wiped away a happy tear.

“We’ll see you both in the morning,” Preston said, opening the front door to his condo as his parents left, carrying bags filled with gifts from both him and Chelsea.

Mom and Dad hadn’t been the only ones touched by the matching mugs she’d given them, adorned with a cutest picture of Lennon, his arms over his eyes as if exhausted. She’d added the words, “Not before my coffee,” which had cracked them all up.

Closing the door behind Mom and Dad, Preston leaned against it, glancing down at Lennon, who was wide awake and squirming in his arms.

It had been a whirlwind afternoon, and probably the best damn Christmas of his life.

Victor had understood when Preston canceled his plans to join his family, saying it was more important he spend Lennon’s first Christmas with him.

Then he assured Preston that Pip would also forgive him the second she ripped into the Nerf machine gun he’d passed on to Victor to give to her.

Preston chuckled as Chelsea walked over to the tree, shaking her head at all the gifts Lennon had received. He’d like to say it was his mother who’d gone overboard, but in truth, two-thirds of the presents had been from him.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had a hell of a lot of making up to do for the three months he’d missed while Chelsea paid for everything. It was why he’d insisted she give him a complete list of everything Lennon needed, or would need, in the coming months.

Sitting next to the Christmas tree was a high chair adorned with a big bow. Chelsea confessed she’d moved that item down on her baby list, since Lennon wouldn’t need it until he was able to sit up and hold his own head steady.

“You doing okay?” he asked. “I realize my mom and dad can be?—”

“They’re incredible,” she interjected. “So, so nice.”

He smiled. “So are yours.” He meant that sincerely, so he was confused by Chelsea’s incredulous expression. “Seriously,” he added. “For a football guy, your dad is remarkably well-versed in the ins and outs of hockey.”

Chelsea laughed. “He’s become obsessed with the sport, subscribing to whatever app it is that lets him watch every hockey game played each night.

I gave him a Stingrays jersey for Christmas this morning, and he pulled it on immediately, swearing it was his favorite gift.

Or at least it was …until he got to yours. ”

Preston had dropped off a couple of gifts for Chelsea’s parents, anxious for them to approve of him, not only for Lennon but for their daughter as well. “Not sure my gift counts, because you know I get those box-seat tickets for free, right?”

“Regardless, like Ethan, Dad flipped his lid and he’s living for that game.”

“Your mom was a little trickier,” Preston admitted. “Figured she wouldn’t be wooed by hockey merch. Hence the gift card.”

“She and Dad are excited to try Pat’s Pub, especially after I told them how good the fish and chips are. It was nice of you to think of them.”

Preston walked to the refrigerator when Lennon started to fuss, grabbing a bottle before returning to the couch, sitting down to feed him. Chelsea drifted over to them, sinking next to him.

“Look at you, showing off your mad dad skills,” she teased.

Preston chuckled, silently wishing he had more time to flex those father muscles. The more time he spent with Lennon, the more he suffered when they were apart.

He hadn’t lied when he’d told Chelsea having them here all night would be the perfect gift. He loved the idea of having them under his own roof. For the first time since meeting his son, the world felt right, and he longed for them to be exactly what his dad had called them.

A family.

“Feeling better?” he asked. “When you first got here…”

Chelsea sighed. “My mother and I engaged in World War Three this morning.”

Preston frowned. “Why?” When she didn’t immediately respond, he figured out the answer on his own. “Because you were coming here?”

Chelsea lifted one shoulder, trying to play off the argument, but he’d seen the stress on her face when she’d arrived earlier this afternoon. At first, he’d chalked it up to nerves over meeting his parents, but he dismissed that idea pretty quickly when Chelsea and Mom clicked within minutes.

“She’s taking longer to adjust to…” Chelsea waved a finger between him and Lennon. “This. To her, you’re still a stranger, and she’s quite protective of Lennon.”

Preston had noticed Mrs. Murphy hovering whenever he held Lennon during his visits, but he hadn’t really thought much of it.

“That makes sense, you know. I mean, I’ve only met her a couple of times.

Tell you what. After the holidays, I’ll stop by your place more often, give her a chance to get to know me. ”

He’d expected his offer to set Chelsea’s mind at ease, but damn if he hadn’t missed the mark by a mile when she bit her lower lip nervously.

Then he recalled the guy who’d kissed her outside the bakery…and he wondered once again if there was someone else hovering on the fringes. Maybe someone her mother preferred.

“It’s Christmas, and I really don’t want to talk about my mom right now.

We’ve been approaching the breaking point for months.

Today, we hit it. Tomorrow, I’ll talk it out with her, and then…

” Chelsea leaned back against the couch cushions.

Actually, she slouched, looking too exhausted for his peace of mind.

“And then, I think I’m going to have to start looking for a place to live now. In addition to childcare.”

It was on the tip of Preston’s tongue to tell her she had a place to stay, but he knew Chelsea was nowhere near ready for that offer. He tried to tell himself it hadn’t even been a full month yet, and he needed to be patient, but that was a damn hard thing to do.

Since he didn’t want to encourage her to find somewhere else to live that wasn’t his place, he decided to broach the other subject causing her stress. Because it had been on his mind as well.

“You having second thoughts about the childcare centers?” The two of them had spent the better part of one afternoon, while Lennon was napping, researching local childcare centers, then arranging appointments for times when they could visit together.

The first visit was scheduled for just after the new year.

Chelsea shook her head, then shrugged. “Even if I am, it’s not like there are a lot of viable options.”

“We could revisit the nanny idea.” Preston had suggested going that route after talking to Victor. His sister employed a nanny for Pip, and Victor said it worked well.

Chelsea had dismissed the idea, claiming it would be too expensive, and she wasn’t swayed when Preston said he’d pay. Yet another instance when time wasn’t on his side. Apparently, a few weeks as a father wasn’t enough for Chelsea to agree to let him pay for a nanny she couldn’t afford.

“We wouldn’t need a full-time nanny, just someone flexible enough to work around our schedules,” he added.

While Chelsea’s hours would be more fixed once the bakery opened, his would be all over the place during the season.

“Victor gave me his sister’s number. We could call and ask her how it works with her nanny. ”

When he made the nanny suggestion a week ago, Chelsea dismissed it out of hand. Tonight, it looked like she was considering it. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk to her.”

Preston smiled because—whether she realized it or not—Chelsea was slowly starting to allow him more input regarding Lennon.

By trusting him to pick out a high chair.

By listening when he suggested a nanny.

By spending the night here so that he could learn the nighttime routine.

He’d noticed in the past few days that she’d also stopped giving him instructions, letting him take the lead in Lennon’s care, confident that he knew what he was doing.

“Great. I’ll ask Victor to let her know we’ll call her soon.”

She nodded, twisting to face him, the side of her head resting against the back of the couch.

Chelsea studied his face for a moment, and he got the sense she had something else on her mind, other than childcare. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

“When you retire from hockey, do you think you’ll move back to Seattle?”

No doubt, all the talk he and his parents had done over Christmas dinner about his hometown bothered her.