Page 19 of The Unexpected Lineup (Lost in Translation #2)

DON’T PLAY COY WITH ME, LAVIGNE

HAISLEY

I t’s honestly unfair how hot Rasmus is with a baby in his arms. I mean, unreasonably hot. He should come with a warning label.

All night, I kept stealing glances at him. There’s something about a six-foot-plus, tattooed hockey player gently blowing raspberries on a baby’s belly and making duck noises that apparently short-circuits my brain.

There was this ease about him that I wasn’t expecting at all based on his nonexistent experience with babies before tonight.

And it messed with me. Because somewhere between the diaper disaster, the giggles, and getting Tilly to bed, it hit me: he’s not just going to be a dad. He’s going to be our baby’s dad.

And I still don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know how to let him in. Not when parts of me still flinch at the idea of needing someone…of trusting a new person in my life. It’s not that I don’t want to. But it’s hard to let him in after the disappointments of my past dating life .

What if I let him in and it all goes wrong?

What if I lean on him and he pulls away for some reason?

What if this version of him, all in and seemingly ready for fatherhood, is temporary?

These are the questions that run through my mind as we step out of Ollie and Peyton’s place. I hug my green winter coat tighter around me, questioning if I should call an Uber or walk home from here. Some fresh air could be exactly what I need right now.

“You wanna grab something to eat?” Rasmus asks, startling me from my thoughts.

“Isn’t it getting too late for you?”

“It’s the start of the bye weeks, so I’ve got a relaxed schedule for almost two weeks,” he reminds me.

“I know how bye weeks work, but I thought you would have a routine to follow during the days off.”

“After surviving tonight, we deserve late-night burgers and greasy fries. Don’t you agree?”

My lips twitch. “You make a compelling case.”

“Come on,” he says, jerking his chin down the block. “I know a place not too far away from here that I discovered during my first week in town. It’s nothing fancy, but they serve food around the clock.”

I fall into step beside him, surprised by how natural it feels. Like we do this all the time.

“I still can’t believe you didn’t panic more,” I say, half-laughing, thinking back to the events of tonight .

“I figured screaming wouldn’t help.”

“That’s impressive.” I nudge him lightly with my shoulder. “Most guys I know would’ve gagged and called for backup.”

“Trust me, I considered it.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters.”

His eyes flick to mine. “I actually have spent a good amount of time watching YouTube videos about parenting and baby care. It was still a shock how much comes out of a kid that size.”

“You watched parenting videos? I haven’t gotten that far in research yet.”

“I’ve always been a visual learner. So, I read about a topic and then do a deep dive on YouTube. Who knew there were so many parenting videos online?”

A soft laugh slips from me before I can stop it. “That’s actually kind of adorable.”

“Don’t tell the guys. I’ve got a reputation to uphold,” he says with a wink, sending a flutter through my chest.

“I think you might’ve shattered that reputation the moment you made those animal sounds to make Tilly laugh.”

“You liked that, huh?”

“I didn’t say I liked it. But Tilly surely did.”

“Don’t play coy with me, Lavigne.”

His words skim across my skin, softer than they should be, and somehow that makes them land even harder. Yet, the silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s comfortable. The kind of quiet that I’m not used to with people outside my family and closest friends .

“Here we are,” Rasmus says, nodding toward a corner diner with faded paint and fogged-up windows. A crooked sign above the door reads No Forks Given in block letters.

“I can see why it caught your attention.”

He turns to point at one of the signs saying Best Fries in Town. “It wasn’t the name, but that promise.”

“You’re a man of simple priorities.”

He laughs and pushes the door open, gesturing for me to step inside. The warmth and the smells hit immediately: grease, onions, and something sweet on top of everything else. My stomach lurches and I pause inside the doorway, pressing a hand low on my belly.

“Is everything okay?” He asks, his voice suddenly serious behind me. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” I breathe slowly through my nose. “Just every scent here is hitting me at once. This baby better enjoy those damn fries.”

“Do you want to go somewhere else? We don’t have to stay.”

I shake my head, my eyes still on the checkered floor tile while I let the nausea settle down. “No. I just need a second. And a vanilla milkshake.”

After a few more slow breaths, my stomach agrees to behave. I lead the way to a booth in the back corner while shrugging off my coat. Rasmus offers to take it, and he hangs both of our outerwear on the hooks near the table.

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” I comment and sit down, glancing around at the old-school posters on the walls. “Or maybe it has that kind of energy, you know? ”

He smirks across from me. “It’s exactly how I pictured American diners back when I lived across the pond.”

“You said you came here for college?” I recall our conversation from the night we met.

“I got a scholarship to attend Cornell and play hockey. It was my lucky break.”

“Impressive. Did you enjoy attending an Ivy League school?”

“The coursework was a lot, and I struggled to balance everything. But being an athlete helped. I got some freedom because of that.”

The waitress interrupts us with a notepad in one hand, and a tired but friendly smile on her weathered face. “You two ready to order?”

Rasmus glances at me, letting me go first.

“Can I get a vanilla milkshake and a large order of fries? Thanks.”

“You got it, hun.” She turns to Rasmus. “And for you?”

“Double bacon burger with fries and a chocolate shake, please.”

She nods and leans in secretively, lowering her voice. “You know, you look a lot like that new Peacocks player. Rasmus something.”

“Can’t say I’m much of a hockey fan, but he must be a handsome guy,” he cheekily says first and offers his hand. “Kidding. I’m Rasmus Westerholm. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“Oh, our cook Billy won’t believe this. But it’s lovely to meet you, Rasmus. That was a heck of a game on Tuesday. Your goal in the second period had Billy jumping up and down. ”

“Tell him to come by and say hi when he’s not busy cooking the best fries in town,” Rasmus offers. “It’s always great to meet fans.”

The waitress leaves us alone after that, and once she’s at the other end of the diner, I whisper, “You handled that well.”

“I’m used to it. Although it’s still weird to be recognized. I never even considered it as an option when moving to the US.”

“Is it hard being so far from your family?”

“I actually have no family left in Sweden, so it’s easy in a way. But the language, culture and all these little things are different. It took me a long time to feel like I’m home here.”

My heart squeezes hearing about his family. I had no idea. “What happened?”

“There’s not much to tell, honestly. My dad passed away and my mom left when I was really young, so I was raised by my grandparents on my mom’s side.

They both died before I finished high school.

I lived with my coach and his family for a while after.

These days, it’s just my cousin Manu and my tía Marisol.

They live in Mexico, so I still see them pretty often,” he explains with a small smile.

“But let’s talk about something else tonight.

It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to think about my past too much. ”

I nod, sensing the heaviness in his words. “So, what do you want to know?”

“Tell me something about your work as a fashion buyer. You know a lot about what I do daily, but I have no idea about your everyday life.”

“Well, for starters, I work for a handful of boutiques in Manhattan. My job is to curate their seasonal collections, find new designers, forecast trends, and attend a lot of meetings both around the City and other places.”

“You get paid to shop?” He looks baffled at the realization.

“Basically, yes,” I smile at the question I’ve heard many times. “But it’s way more than that. It’s a lot of travel, even more spreadsheets and meeting new people.”

“Sounds intense,” he comments, his gaze lingering on me with a hint of curiosity. “How’d you end up doing this? I figured you might work for the team, following the rest of your family, or maybe with the other family company I read about online.”

“Someone has been doing his research.”

He chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a smirk. “Guilty. I prefer knowing what I’m getting into.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready for what you might find,” I reply, matching his playful tone.

“I always wanted to do my own thing. I discovered fashion early on as you can imagine someone growing up attending private schools in the City would. And when I started college at NYU, it was easy to combine business and fashion studies together.”

“You strike me as someone who knows exactly what they want and how to get it.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh really? Elaborate.”

He rests his elbows on the table and leans in a little, his eyes locking onto mine.

I try to hold his gaze, but the intensity of it has me feeling exposed.

“You have this energy about you. The way you carry yourself and express what you think makes it obvious. It screams that you aren’t afraid of anything and always go after your dreams. ”

His words settle in my chest like a heavy weight. The confident mask I wear feels thinner every passing second. I feel a flicker of vulnerability, as if he’s poking at the very core of me. My heart beats a little faster, and I find myself struggling to keep my composure.

“I appreciate you saying all that, but I’m actually afraid of many things.”

His expression softens. “Yeah? Like what?”

I open my mouth to deflect with something sarcastic, but instead I find myself answering honestly. “Letting people down. Not living up to expectations. Making the wrong choices and having to live with them.”

The words sit between us, quiet but true. He doesn’t rush to fill the silence or doesn’t look away. The waitress brings our food and our conversation continues.

“From what I can see, you’ve carved out something that’s only for you,” Rasmus says eventually. “That’s not easy to do, especially with your last name. You could’ve taken the easy path. But you didn’t. I think that says a lot.”

I glance down at the fries, trying not to let his words hit deep. Tonight is supposed to be fun and non-serious. But it’s too late. They’ve already settled in that vulnerable space beneath my skin.

“Well, damn,” I say, reaching for the ketchup. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long time.”

“Guess I’ll add motivational speaker to my post-hockey career options.”

The conversation shifts after that, being light again, as we enjoy our food.

He teases me by eating his burger with a knife and fork.

I mock him for eating his fries without any condiments.

We talk about music, movies, and other trivial things like if pineapple belongs to pizza or not.

He says no and I say yes, meaning he’s totally wrong.

By the time we finish eating, my cheeks hurt from laughing and smiling. We needed this, a relaxed evening together outside the hockey world.

Outside the restaurant, I check my phone. “My Uber’s two minutes away.”

“I’ll wait with you.”

“You don’t have to. My dad mentioned you live at that apartment building where half of the team lives. That’s only a couple of blocks away.”

“I’ll wait,” he repeats, more softly this time. “And I did have one more thing to ask tonight.”

“What’s that?”

“I was thinking of heading up to my cabin near Ithaca for a long weekend before the second bye week ends…and I thought if you can get time off work, maybe you’d want to come with me. Only us. No team, no family, no pressure. Just a long weekend hanging out.”

I look at him closely and see the sincerity behind the offer. The way he’s trying to get to know me and puts effort into making sure I’m okay with having him in my life is beyond attractive.

“A cabin getaway with my baby daddy,” I test out the words. “What could go wrong?”

He chuckles. “I promise not to chop wood shirtless unless you ask nicely. ”

That makes me laugh, too. “Let me check my work schedule once I get home. If I can take the time off, then why not.”

His smile grows. “Yeah?”

I nod as the Uber pulls up to the street. “I’ll let you know.”

He opens the door for me but doesn’t move away until I’m settled inside.

“Text me when you get home,” he says.

The door clicks shut, but I keep my eyes on him through the window as the Uber pulls away from the curb. He lifts a hand in a small wave, and I mimic it.

The driver says something, but it doesn’t register. I’m too busy trying to catch my breath after a night that knocked me more off-balance than I ever expected.

Because here’s the truth: I like him and how he looked at me when I talked about important things in my life such as my work as a fashion buyer. To him, what I do matters.

It’s also how he didn’t shy away from any conversation topic, other than his family. But that’s understandable since he lost most of them. I haven’t mentioned the loss of my birth mother to him yet either.

I don’t know what this is between us exactly. Not yet. It’s not a relationship, and it’s not just a co-parenting arrangement either. It’s messy and confusing and moving way too fast and also not fast enough. But it’s something.

He’s already weaving his way into my life in ways I didn’t plan for. And maybe that’s what scares me the most. Because when someone’s close enough to matter, they’re close enough to hurt you .

Still, I don’t regret spending time with him. We need more nights similar to tonight to be comfortable together when the baby arrives.