Page 42 of Rematch (Stingrays Hockey #3)

Chapter Fourteen

Preston unlocked the door to the condo, smiling when the smell of tomatoes and garlic hit his nose. His flight from L.A. had been delayed due to weather, so his early-afternoon return had turned into an evening one.

Which had driven him crazy, because he’d been chomping at the bit to get back to Chelsea and Lennon.

Just a few months ago, this condo had been too quiet and lonely. Now, it was abuzz with sounds and smells and…family.

Lennon was sitting in his bouncy chair, Miss Rachel singing “The Wheels on the Bus,” on the television, while Chelsea was in the kitchen cooking. She was singing along loud enough that she hadn’t even heard him open the door.

He took a moment to watch her, amused by the way she wiggled her ass as she stirred the sauce, her ponytail swishing back in forth in time with the music. She was already in what she called her comfy clothes, a soft long-sleeved tee and colorful lounge pants.

Lennon’s hands were waving wildly, and he was bouncing so hard in his chair, Preston was surprised he hadn’t launched himself off it.

Chelsea startled when he closed the door, her surprise morphing to genuine happiness as he walked in.

“You’re home!” she said, rushing over to greet him.

After her sleepless night, he’d expected to find her subdued and exhausted, not hopping around like the Energizer Bunny.

Preston tried to hide his shock when she went up on tiptoe, giving him a kiss. A real kiss. A real not-just-friends kiss. His surprise was short-lived as he grasped her waist, holding her close so he could draw the kiss out as long as she’d let him.

Jesus.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

That realization had him pulling back, since she was pushing the envelope as far as his control went. “Chels?”

“I really missed you,” she said, her dimples appearing as she grinned at him.

“I missed you too. Like fucking crazy.”

She rewarded that confession with another kiss, and while this one didn’t linger as long, it still packed a punch, her tongue meeting his, sneaking him a taste of the sauce she’d been sampling. There was something different about her tonight…and he liked it.

“I thought you’d be tired. What’s all this?” He gestured toward the stove. When he’d called to say he was going to be late, he told her not to worry about dinner, that he would just heat up some soup.

“Spaghetti,” she replied. “I’ve also got a salad ready to go in the fridge. I was just waiting for you to get here before I cooked the noodles and baked the garlic bread.”

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

She grabbed his hand, leading him to the island that separated the kitchen and the living room. “It was no trouble. Besides, I wanted to do something nice for you. I know it was a long day of travel.”

As she spoke, she poured him a glass of red wine, topping up her own. Lifting the glass, she tapped it against his. “Cheers.”

“ Salud ,” he added, before taking a sip. Setting the glass down, he walked over to Lennon, bending over to pick him up. Preston’s heart melted every time his sweet son greeted him with a wide, gummy smile. “Somebody looks like they’re feeling better.”

Chelsea dumped noodles into the boiling pot of water and set a timer. “He turned the corner around four a.m.”

“Ouch.” Preston sat on one of the stools by the island, bouncing Lennon on his knee.

“When you called to say you’d be late, he and I took a long afternoon nap.”

That explained why she wasn’t exhausted.

The two of them chatted about the game and his flight and the crappy weather in L.A.

while she finished cooking. Once she had their meal plated and on the table, Preston moved to join her, touched when she lit the candle in the middle, trying to make the dinner special.

Preston kept Lennon on his lap, quite accomplished at eating with one hand these days.

Chelsea asked about his schedule for the rest of the week, then filled him in on what she and Ethan had accomplished at the bakery. To most people, their conversation topics probably sounded mundane, but Preston loved having her here, being able to share even the smallest tidbits about his life.

After dinner, she cleared the table while he carried Lennon to the bedroom, getting him ready for his bath. He and Chelsea had become quite adept with the nightly routine, their roles well established. After the bath, Preston gave Lennon his bottle as she read Don’t Tickle the Shark .

Rising slowly, Preston placed Lennon in his bassinet, following Chelsea back to the living room. He expected them to claim what he now considered their spots on the couch, but Chelsea surprised him once again by sitting right next to him, curling against his side.

The delayed flight had given him a lot of time to think this afternoon, as the question that had kept him awake for hours last night still hovered in the background.

It wasn’t until he’d walked into this condo and saw Chelsea singing and dancing to that silly children’s song that he realized there was no question after all.

He knew exactly what he wanted his future to look like.

Chelsea bent forward, intent on grabbing the remote from the coffee table, but Preston grasped her wrist, pulling it back.

“I need to talk to you about something,” he said, aware his tone sounded too serious when alarm flashed in Chelsea’s pretty brown eyes.

“Is everything okay? Is it us living here? If it’s not working?—”

“Jesus, Chels. It’s working great. As far as I’m concerned, this is no longer a trial run. I love having you and Lennon here, and this is our home. Ours ,” he stressed.

Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank God. Because I love being here too. Plus, I think moving out has really helped things with me and my mom. She stopped by today.”

Usually after a visit with her mother, Chelsea was tense or upset, which didn’t jive with her current good mood at all. “And everything went okay?”

“Better than okay.” She leaned closer as if revealing some deep dark secret. “You passed the test. In record time too.”

Preston tilted his head, slightly confused. Because while he hoped Ellen was starting to thaw toward him, he hadn’t gotten the sense she was anywhere close to accepting him yet. “Seriously?”

“She said you’re a good man and a good father. Said I was lucky.”

Preston didn’t even realize exactly how much he wanted her parents’ blessing until that moment. He’d tried to console himself with the knowledge that her dad liked him, and it wasn’t unusual for guys—husbands—to have issues with their mothers-in-law.

Now that he’d made the decision regarding his future, he went ahead and embraced all his hopes and dreams.

Because in addition to being a stay-at-home dad, he also wanted to be Chelsea’s husband.

“Told you that I had a way with mothers,” he said with a wink, loving the way she giggled.

So Chelsea’s good mood was driven by her mother’s visit.

Obviously she’d wanted the approval as well, because even though Chelsea and her mother butted heads a lot, he could also see there was genuine love between them.

“Oh my God. I totally shanghaied the conversation. You had something you wanted to talk to me about,” Chelsea said, guiding them back to his original statement.

She twisted to face him, waiting expectantly for him to continue.

“I’ve been thinking about my future,” he started, then he amended his words. “Our future.”

“Our future?” she asked, with equal parts hope and hesitance.

“I’m retiring from hockey at the end of this season.”

“What?”

“It’s time for my next big adventure.”

She blinked a few times, shaking her head as if fighting to get his words to sink in. Then she asked, “What’s the next adventure?”

Preston drew in a deep breath. Then said, “I want to be a stay-at-home dad.”

Chelsea’s eyes widened, but before she could reply, he forged on.

“I’ve lived my childhood dream. For fifteen years. I’ve loved every second I’ve spent on the ice, but now, I want to live my adult dream. The one I didn’t even know existed until that first moment when you put Lennon in my arms.”

Tears gathered on Chelsea’s lashes, but she didn’t speak, so he continued.

“It’s your turn to live your dream, Chelsea. To open the best damn bakery in Baltimore. Hell, the whole country. And you deserve the chance and time to do it right without worrying about Lennon in the care of strangers. I mean, I think—hope—you’d be more comfortable if he was with me, right?”

“Of course, I would,” she said so loudly, there wasn’t room for doubt. “He loves you and you’re amazing with him. It’s just…are you sure? I would hate for you to make this decision, then somewhere down the road regret?—”

“I’m not going to regret my choice,” he interjected. “Never going to regret spending every moment I possibly can with him.” Preston paused, then went for broke. “And our other children.”

“Other…children?” she whispered.

“We can debate how many later, but I don’t want Lennon to be our only child. Siblings are important.”

Chelsea shook her head, but again, he could tell she wasn’t saying no. Simply trying to shake the words into her brain. “I…I…”

Preston reached out to take her hand in his. “I know I said I’d take things slow.”

“This is the opposite of slow,” she pointed out. He thought her inability to formulate her thoughts was based on panic, but there was a twinkle in her eye as she made the joke.

“You can still take all the time you need. I’ll wait until you catch up, but I want you to know, right now, where I see this thing going between us. I’m in it for the long haul. Forever.”

Chelsea was silent for a moment, and damn if for the first time since he’d met her, she hadn’t perfected her poker face.

He was accustomed to being able to read her emotions through her expressions.

His girl was always so open and honest and transparent.

But right now…she might as well be a brick wall.