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Chapter Four

Lars Nyquist Baby Mama Drama!

In a scene straight out of a telenovela, Lars Nyquist found out he was a father when last night, an unnamed woman dropped off his child at the Empty Net, a known Chicago Rebels player hangout.

Inside sources tell us that Lars was blindsided by the news that he has a daughter and was seen arguing with his baby mama outside the bar before she made a quick getaway in a taxi.

Lars, son of hellraising hockey player Sven Nyquist, was clearly upset with the situation as it was unveiled in front of teammates and fans. Uh oh!

Regular readers of this column will remember that Nyquist Senior died several months ago in a single car collision after years in forced retirement from the NHL owing to his part in an illegal gambling ring.

Toxicology results indicated that he was under the influence of alcohol and cocaine at the time of his death.

While Nyquist Junior has never shown signs of following in his father’s footsteps, it’s clear he has more in common with the old man than everyone thought!

- Hot Goss

Adeline

“Not in a million years!”

The morning after The Baby Bombshell, I was seated at the kitchen table, which was still covered with baby stuff. The baby in question was in one of the borrowed bassinets, sleeping like an angel, while the sperm donor was in the other room on the phone with his agent looking for an exit strategy.

Evidently, I was part of it.

Seated in my lap, my heavier-by-the-second baby sister munched on a piece of naan—the kid was obsessed with all things bread. Dad was standing at the kitchen island making one of his kale-o-riffic smoothies. (His words, not mine.)

He held up the sludge-filled jug and started pouring. “Twinkle, it would be for a few weeks, maximum. Just while he gets things sorted with the baby’s mom.”

“But I’m not qualified to look after a baby.”

My father scoffed. “You were practically Tilly’s mom her first year of life. She hardly knew her incubator.”

“Hey.” Mom grinned and shook her head. “It takes a village and that’s what we are around here.” She leaned over and rubbed Mabel’s chest, earning a sleepy snuffle in return. “But he’s not completely wrong. Tilly did say ‘Addy’ before she said ‘Mom’ or ‘Dad’.”

“Addy, this is for you!” Tilly held out a piece of naan, then put it in her mouth with a giggle as soon as I showed any interest. Out came the massive, toothy grin that made my heart melt. I’d missed her so much. I’d missed them all.

But if I’d known I’d be on the hook as nanny for Lars Nyquist’s surprise love child, I would have stayed far, far away.

“Why am I being asked? Is it because I’m at a loose end or is it because I’ve got tits?”

“Addy!” My dad frowned, like plain-speaking wasn’t this family’s lingua franca. “The first one.”

I might have needed something to occupy my time, but a baby was a full-time job. Not exactly the kind of gig I had in mind while I pondered the great questions of who I was and what I should be doing.

“Tits!” Tilly giggled and sucked juice from her Captain America sippy cup.

“My good influence continues.”

Mom reached over and squeezed my hand. “It was just an idea. You do not have to do this at all. Besides, the Rebels org is on the case, working with an au pair agency.”

Au pair. Defined as “sexy nanny,” usually British or Spanish or worst of all, Swedish.

Likely to fall in love with the hunky single dad at the drop of her French knickers.

I didn’t enjoy how my lungs hitched at the idea of Lars getting his (childcare) needs attended to by this hot little number of my imagination.

My father was having none of it. “We can’t have some strange woman looking after baby Mabel!”

“There you go again, assuming that the nanny will be female.” I pointed at him. “Sexist.”

“Completely,” a deep voice cut in. Lars entered the kitchen, pocketing his phone in his jeans.

“And stop hounding Adeline to take a job she doesn’t need or want.

She’s barely been home for five minutes.

” He turned to me and mouthed, “Sorry” and just that intimate communication sent my pulse rocketing.

If that wasn’t the assurance I needed that staying out of Lars’s orbit was a top-shelf idea, then I didn’t know what was.

Dad was still on his soap box. “So you’re fine with some stranger feeding your kid?”

“People hire strangers to look after their children all the time.” Lars inhaled deeply and arced a tired and troubled gaze over the kitchen and its inhabitants, skimming Mabel with barely a glance. “I’ll get out of your way.”

You would think he’d announced the coming of the end times. My parents shot up. Well, Dad was already standing but he seemed to grow five inches.

“You’re heading … home?” My confused mother not-so-subtly placed her body between Lars and the bassinet.

“Alone?” Dad’s shocked utterance contained a healthy infusion of fuck, no .

Sensing the drama, Eggsbee jumped to his feet, barked once, and wagged his tail.

Even Tilly got in on the act. “Duckman, have some bread!”

Lars frowned at Tilly, caught my eye—more of the us v. them communication—then returned his attention to the guardians of Mabel’s galaxy.

“Gotta do it sometime. For now, the wheels are in motion. The paternity test, the lawyer, the nanny hunt, trying to get ahold of Vicki.” He sounded especially irritated by that last to-do. “I can’t stay with you guys forever.”

I doubted he got a wink of sleep. My parents had set him up in the guest room, with the crib beside the bed.

Mom told me Lars had been awake the entire night and even fed his daughter once, under her knowing direction.

When Tilly was seven months old, she was already sleeping through, but each baby was different.

My heart keened in sympathy. I was on my parents’ side here. He should stay longer because once he left, he was truly on his own.

“Yeah, but do you have to leave right this minute? We only just got Mabel down.”

This ploy by master strategist Theo Kershaw was enough to throw Lars off his game. Uncertainty crossed his brow.

“I don’t want to take advantage.” Less sure now.

“You are not taking advantage.” Pushing for home, my mom squeezed his arm. “You didn’t get any sleep, Lars, so we’re ordering you to lie down and take a nap. Just an hour or so, because you’ll be no good to that kid if you don’t get some rest.”

“You’ve already helped out so much?—”

“And we can do it for a few more hours. Theo, talk to him.”

My dad placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Go ahead, get some shuteye.”

Lars exhaled. “Okay. I’ll set my alarm for an hour and then …” He trailed off, his gaze drifting to his daughter. Stories were written in that look, ones with unknowable endings.

Once he left, my mom and dad shared one of those familiar knowing glances I’d been privy to my entire life.

My parents were #relationshipgoals, the Great Love Story I envied and craved for myself.

After a one-night stand resulted in a surprise pregnancy, my father had pursued my mom relentlessly and charmed her prickly Black Cat with his pure Golden Retriever energy.

Five kids later, they were still madly in love.

Eager to escape what I suspected came next—my parents making out like teenagers—I headed upstairs and ran into Lars coming out of the bathroom.

“Could I have a word?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“I overheard some of the conversation you were having with your parents about taking on nanny duty.”

I tried to recall if I’d said anything negative. “I’m sorry if it sounds like I’m not being a team player?—”

He held up a hand. “Stop right there. I just want you to know I would never expect that. Your parents are out of order to even ask it of you. So please don’t think I’d want you to step up like that.”

“You wouldn’t?”

He rubbed his mouth, something he did when he was thinking about how to phrase his next words. I wished I didn’t know that.

“Well, no. You’re a young girl, with your whole life ahead of you. Cleaning up after my mistakes is not your responsibility.”

Not sure I liked being described as a “young girl,” as if I wasn’t mature enough to be in the running for this nanny gig. Or anything else.

Setting that aside, I asked, “Is that what you think? That Mabel is a mistake?”

He blew out a breath. “I mean, in the sense of me fucking up with a married woman. The kid can’t help being born. What I’m trying to say is that this is my problem, and I don’t want other people feeling they need to fix it. No one else can fix it but me.”

My natural empathy rose to the fore.

“Yet good things can still come out of it. I know it’s hard to see that right now when your life has been tossed on its head like this. People want to help.”

“Yeah, I see that. And I’m grateful. Truly.” He shook his head. “I’m not used to accepting it, I suppose.”

“How come?”

He scoffed. “How long have you got?”

Forever.

He didn’t wait for my answer. “I’d best let you get on. Just don’t let your parents boss you around, okay?”

“Says the man who was ordered to take a nap by the Kershaw Sleep Police.”

He laughed, and wow, that sound wrapped me up in a Lars hug. The guy was dead on his feet yet that laugh gave me life.

With one last smile, he headed into the guest room and closed the door.

Lars

How hard could this be?

I could tell Theo and Elle were terrified at the thought of me taking on solo father duties.

Hell, I was right there with them, but I couldn’t show it.

I had to project calm, so I watched like a daddy hawk while my co-defenseman strapped the kid into the car seat.

It didn’t look too difficult as long as you made sure the belt looped through the right holes. If only the rest were that easy.

I thrust my hand toward Theo, who looked at it like it was a foreign object.