Page 60 of Rematch
So he’d stupidly decided to test the waters by kissing her after walking her to her car.
For a split second, she’d responded to the kiss. But then, as if someone had dumped cold water over their heads, she backed away. It wasn’t confirmation that there was another man in her life, but it sure as shit felt like it to him.
Regardless of the uncertainty surrounding Chelsea, one thing was still definite…and amazing…and wonderful.
He was a father.
So this morning, as he and his teammates disembarked from the bus, Preston passed out cigars, the guys slapping him on the back and congratulating him as he showed off even more pictures.
“How long has he been asleep?” he asked, itching to hold his son again.
“Not long. He conked out in the car, which FYI is your first Lennon lesson. If he’s fussy and nothing seems to soothe him, go for a drive. It never fails to put him to sleep within minutes.”
“Good to know. It occurs to me I should find a notebook and pen.”
Chelsea laughed. “I think you’ll be able to retain what I tell you. Most of it is common sense. The rest I figured out through trial and error.”
Preston placed the baby carrier on the couch, sitting next to it so that he could study Lennon’s face as he slept. “I can’t get over how perfect he is. Like, he’s seriously the cutest kid ever, right?”
“One thousand percent,” Chelsea said, agreeing readily, glancing over at the playpen.
“I set it up to be a bassinet. Was that right?”
“That’s perfect.” Walking to it, she ran her hand over the soft blanket he’d laid atop the padded cushion of the bassinet. “I’m going to move him over here. It’s not good for them to sleep in the carrier for too long.”
Preston watched as she oh-so slowly unfastened and lifted him out of the carrier. Lennon stirred a bit, but she rocked him gently as she walked to the playpen. Placing him in it, she pulled the second blanket he’d bought over their baby. Lennon remained asleep through it all.
Preston was relieved that Chelsea seemed more at ease today than she’d been at Pat’s Pub. He’d spent a fretful couple of nights, afraid he’d pushed her too hard. First, in his requests regarding Lennon, and then, when he’d stole that kiss by her car.
Reconnecting with Chelsea again had reinforced his belief that she was the one, that she’d been made for him, his perfect mate, but that didn’t mean she felt the same way.
Preston had made that soul mate comment so many times over the past year to his friends, family, and teammates that he’d started to question himself, thinking he’d overplayed his feelings toward her.
He would never question them again.
Love at first sight was real.
Period.
End of sentence.
“While he’s napping, would you like a tour of the place?”
Chelsea nodded. “I would.”
He gestured at their surroundings. “Obviously this is the great room, and the main reason I bought this place. I love the open concept and, as you pointed out, the view.”
“It really is killer.” Chelsea walked over to the windows, looking toward the water.
Preston pointed to the small marina just below them. “See the boat second from the shore on the right?”
“Yes.”
“That’s mine.” He hadn’t lived in Baltimore more than a month before he’d fallen in love with being out on the water. Within six months of being traded to the Stingrays, he’d bought the boat, spending a great deal of his summer cruising down the Patapsco River to the Chesapeake Bay, where he fished from his deck, soaking in the sunshine and sea air.
“That’s not a boat, Preston. It’s a yacht.”
He laughed. “Not quite, but when Lennon gets older, I plan to take him out fishing with me.”
