Page 57 of Rematch
“So,” he began, and Chelsea knew they’d reached the end of the small-talk portion of the evening.
“So,” she repeated.
“Thanks for the videos and pictures.” Preston glanced at his phone. She followed his gaze and realized he’d already made one of the photographs she shared with him this afternoon the background. She was touched by the choice, because it didn’t just include a photo of Lennon—of which he had at least a hundred to choose from—but one of the two she’d sent that included her. “I spent a full two hours before coming here tonight looking through all of them. Goddamn, we made one cute kid.”
She laughed. “We really did. Those chubby cheeks of his…”
“Adorable. I hope he has your dimples.”
Chelsea bit her lower lip. “I don’t have any idea how we go about this.”
Preston took a quick sip of the new beer Padraig quietly dropped off, and, for the first time, she got the sense that he was as nervous as she was. “I guess the best thing to do would be to say what we want, then decide if those desires are workable for both of us.”
Chelsea agreed that was reasonable, but when it came to her—nope—their baby, she wasn’t exactly reasonable. “What do you want?” she forced herself to ask.
Preston sat up straighter. “I don’t want to be an every-other-weekend dad. I meant what I said at the bakery. I want to be a part of his life, a real part. I was hoping we could share custody of?—”
He stopped talking when Chelsea failed to hold back what was essentially a half gasp, half sob.
“Chelsea.” Preston took her hand again. “Joy, wait. Please don’t panic.”
His use of her nickname from a year earlier slowed down her immediate alarm, but only for a second or two. “I’m sorry. It’s the word custody.” God, what if Mom was right? What if his end game was to take Lennon away from her? “I hate it.”
“You’re right. That was a shitty word to use. Makes it sound like we’re divorced or something. What if we just say co-parenting?”
“You want a lot of time with him,” she said. “Equal time?”
God, she couldn’t even leave Lennon long enough to get a haircut.
“Not immediately, Chelsea. Lennon doesn’t know me. I get that. What I’m asking for right now is a chance to get to know my son…with you around, of course.”
“Okay.” That was a fair request, one she couldn’t exactly turn down.
“I have a game out of town tomorrow in Boston. We’re leaving at the crack of dawn, but I’ll be back the next day by noon. I was hoping we could have a family date.”
“A family date.” Chelsea toyed with one of her fries, trying to wrap her head around the idea of Preston calling them a family. Is that what they were? Or what he hoped they would become? Did co-parenting fall under that heading?
Ugh. This was all so confusing, and she wasn’t helping matters by overreacting to his requests by making her own fears known.
“The idea of spending a single night away from Lennon kills me, Preston. I can’t even begin to process how I’d do that. I don’t think I can.”
Preston leaned back, considering her words. “I get that. And I understand it. Completely. Chelsea, leaving that bakery today, without knowing when I’d see my son again…it hurt more than I can say. I know that must seem strange to you but?—”
“It doesn’t,” she hastened to interject. “I’m glad you felt that way. Well, I’m not glad you were hurt, but glad to know how much you care about him.”
“My schedule is chaotic at best while I’m in season, and you’re trying to launch a new business, so time isn’t exactly on our side right now.”
“No,” she agreed. “It’s not.”
Preston clicked on his phone, opening the calendar app, turning it sideways so they could both see it. “Why don’t we start slow? Organize the first visit.”
Chelsea pulled her phone out of her purse and opened her calendar as well. “Okay, well, we’ve already planned a date—a family date—for the day after tomorrow.”
“Are you working with Ethan that day?”
“Only in the morning.”
“Great.” Preston typed the words Family Date on his calendar. “So what if you and Lennon come to my place around one? I can send you the address.”
