Page 18 of The Unexpected Lineup (Lost in Translation #2)
TRUST ME, HE’S JUST A GUY WHO LOVES ABBA AND BAD JOKES
RASMUS
I spot Haisley the instant she rounds the corner. Her coat is belted at the waist, highlighting her figure, while her cheeks are flushed from the chill. For a few beats, all I can think is how she’s the kind of beautiful that ruins your idea of perfection for good.
She catches my admiring look and lifts the two coffee cups she’s holding. “Didn’t want to show up empty-handed. Figured caffeine might help us survive babysitting.”
“I like the way you think.”
She passes me one of the cups, her fingers grazing mine, bringing back the memory of how right our hands felt together that first night. “I wasn’t sure if you preferred something stronger, but I figured this is safer than showing up with tequila for babysitting duty.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “As tempting as tequila is, I think coffee’s exactly what we need for this. ”
When we reach the back entrance of the brick building that houses an auto body shop and their apartment, Haisley punches in the code. The door clicks open, and we climb the narrow staircase in step.
She pauses at the landing and flashes me a quick smile. “You nervous?”
“A little,” I admit. “Babies don’t exactly come with a playbook.”
“You’ll be great,” she says, about to knock when the door swings open on its own.
“Holy moly, you’re freaking Rasmus Westerholm,” the light-haired woman at the door blurts out, her eyes wide with disbelief. She’s holding a smiling baby in one arm while staring at me as if I stepped out of her TV screen.
I shift my weight, hyper aware of how awkward I am in situations like this.
“Uh, hi?” I say, lifting a hand in a hesitant wave.
Haisley laughs next to me. “Hope we’re not too early.”
“You’re just on time!” The woman exclaims. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting...” She trails off, still gawking at me.
“A minor celebrity?” Haisley offers with a teasing nudge to my ribs. “Yeah, he has that effect on people.”
She shakes her head like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “When Ollie told me you and your, um, friend Rasmus were babysitting for us tonight, I had no idea Rasmus meant Rasmus Westerholm, one of the best forwards in the League.”
That explains the starstruck greeting. “You’re a hockey fan, then? ”
Her head bobs enthusiastically. “ Huge fan! I grew up in San Diego going to the Riptides games with my dad and brother. We still try to go once or twice a season if we’re in town at the same time. But, wow, I did not expect this when I opened the door.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you—” I pause, waiting for her to introduce herself even if I already know her name.
“Oh! Right. Where are my manners?” She gives herself a playful facepalm, which makes the little girl in her arms giggle, showing her gummy smile. “I’m Peyton, and this little ray of sunshine is Tilly. Come on in.”
She steps aside, and Haisley slips in first, unwinding her scarf and toeing off her boots as she looks around.
I follow her into the apartment, taking in the space.
The big, arched windows flood the living room with natural light, making it feel open and inviting.
Other touches, including soft blankets and baby toys tucked in a basket, make it feel like home.
“You’ve got a lovely place,” Haisley gushes. “I can’t believe I haven’t been here before.”
“Thank you. Ollie lived here first, back when he spent his nights enjoying single life. And now look at us.” She gestures to the baby in her arms, her voice light with a hint of amusement.
“I sense an interesting story there,” I comment.
She waves her hand in dismissal. “Not as interesting as you. I can’t believe I have you, one of the highest scorers in the League, standing in my living room.”
My baby mama rolls her eyes in good humor. “Trust me, he’s just a guy who loves ABBA and bad jokes.”
I shoot her a look. “Betrayal this early in the evening? ”
“Got to keep you humble, Westerholm.”
Before I can respond, movement catches my eye, and a tall guy appears. His long blonde hair, easygoing stance, and graphic T-shirt scream California surfer.
“Hey, man,” he gives me a nod and turns to Peyton. “I swear, she’s normally much more chill and cooler than this, but you know…the hockey fans.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I wave it off, reaching out when he extends a hand. “Rasmus Westerholm.”
“Ollie Braxton,” he introduces himself and moves to give Haisley a hug. “Thanks for watching our little one while we sneak in a much-needed date night.”
“No worries.” I glance at Tilly, who’s happily gnawing on her tiny fist. Babies are so weird but cute at the same time.
“You two go have fun. We’ll keep her safe and very entertained,” Haisley promises.
“I trust you with her,” Ollie says, conviction evident in his voice. Then he glances between us and adds, “And hey, congrats, by the way.”
Pride swells in my chest. “Thanks. It’s all still new, but I’m glad more people know. Feels good to talk about it with someone other than her.”
He laughs at that. “I bet. Well, if you ever need advice from a new dad, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Or you can text me,” Peyton adds quickly. “I’m not a stalker, I promise.”
Ollie laughs, pulls her in and presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He whispers something to her, and she beams up at him like he’s her entire world.
I watch how relaxed and happy they look together, and a pang of jealousy hits me. Because I ache for what they have: that easy connection and physical affection, the quiet understanding that the other one will always be there. Maybe Haisley and I can have that someday.
“How can such a small thing produce so much shit?” I ask, covering my nose with my free hand as we try to clean up the mess.
Haisley looks just as horrified as I feel, holding the wipes. “This is—this is unnatural.”
I grunt, eyeing the absolute disaster in front of us. “We need to get her checked for superpowers. This goes against science and everything I know about the world.”
Tilly, looking completely unbothered, kicks her small feet in the air from her spot on the changing table. She giggles, a sound I’m starting to love, like she hasn’t committed a crime in her diaper.
Haisley groans. “How do parents do this every day? And even worse, multiple times a day.”
“Maybe some kind of secret training we haven’t been invited to yet?” I joke, trying my best to handle the situation. “Okay, I got this. Hand me the wipes.”
She shoves them at me. “You’re a good man, Rasmus Westerholm.”
“Remember this when you call me an asshole next time? ”
I finish the job, securing the new diaper with what I think is a pretty impressive skill, considering this is my first time. Those YouTube videos I’ve watched lately about parenting helped.
The kid beams up at me, her chubby hands reaching for me.
“You better not fill that diaper again tonight, little lady,” I warn as I lift her in my arms. Yup, I’m now a pro at handling tiny humans.
Haisley watches us, a small smile on her lips. “Honestly, this is kind of…sweet?”
I raise an eyebrow in question. “Sweet?”
“You with a baby. It suits you.”
I start to speak and the kid squeals, grabbing a fistful of my hair.
“Fuck, I mean…what are good kid-proof words to curse with?” I ask, prying Tilly’s shockingly strong fingers loose.
“Rose loves to use the word fudge .”
“Okay, that was fudging revenge for earlier. I think she was offended by my words.”
“I mean, babies do enjoy grabbing things they see near them.”
“But my hair?”
“Well, at least you now know to be prepared for that as well.”
“Maybe I’ll cut my hair before the baby arrives.”
“Don’t!” Haisley whisper-shouts and blushes. “I mean, I really like it longer.”
“Good to know,” I say with a smug grin .
After we clean the changing table and put Tilly in new pajamas, we move to the living room. Haisley sits on the floor with Tilly, showing her the playmat and the different animals printed on it.
Seeing her in this setting makes it even easier to imagine her as a mother. She’s caring, pays attention to the trivial things, and seems to love babies.
And I’m the lucky bastard who gets to have one with her.
Damn. I truly hit the jackpot, didn’t I? Well, I wouldn’t call a broken condom luck, but still. I couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. That should scare me, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t. I’m blessed to have this with her.
“Want to join us?” Haisley asks.
I sit on the floor beside them and Tilly crawls over to me. Chuckling, I lift her and blow a raspberry on her stomach. She giggles, and the sound is one of the most precious things ever.
“You’re good with her,” Haisley observes.
“I was thinking the same about you. We’ll be fine raising our little Meatball.”
“I can’t believe you’re still calling the baby that.” Her chuckle turns into a snort, and I love the sound of her being so free with me.
We spend an hour playing with Tilly, showing her different toys while making noises of animals. She gets fussy when it’s close to her bedtime, so Haisley cradles her and sings in Spanish as she takes her to bed.
A soft melody spilling from her lips is gentle and sweet. I don’t recognize the lullaby, but that doesn’t matter. It’s the way she sings it while swaying with Tilly that has me completely mesmerized.
I lean against the doorway, watching as she carefully lays the baby down, smoothing a protecting hand over her fragile body. When she turns around and spots me, she stops in her tracks. “Were you there the entire time?”
“Yeah, and I was admiring how natural you are.”
She tries to hide her reaction with a small laugh, but I can tell my words have gotten to her based on how her back straightened from the confidence boost. “It’s babysitting, not rocket science.”
“No, it’s more than that. You’re going to be such an amazing mom, Haisley.”
The weight of my comment settles between us as she processes the words. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
It feels as though we’re standing on the edge of something big. But then she jokes. “You know, for a guy who had a full existential crisis over one dirty diaper, you’re doing pretty well yourself.”
“Listen, I stand by what I said. That was against everything logical. But I think I’m getting the hang of this tiny human thing.”
Haisley’s face softens as she glances toward the crib. “Me too.”
We stand there for a beat, watching the sleeping bundle of joy we somehow managed to keep alive and happy for one evening. And for the first time since this whole thing started, I realize something: I actually want to do everything with her, which makes all the difference.