Page 63 of Rematch
Preston nodded eagerly, stepping next to her so that he could bend down to lift their son from the bassinet. Lennon had stopped fussing the moment he saw them, his tiny hands waving wildly. Picking him up carefully, Preston nestled the tiny baby in the crook of his arm, overwhelmed once again by the sheer power of his emotions.
This kid was fucking everything.
Chelsea smiled at the two of them for a moment, then walked back to the bags they’d left on the floor.
“What the heck is in all the bags?” Preston crossed over to stand next to her, swaying as Lennon looked at him.
“Going anywhere with a baby is no small production,” Chelsea said, opening the first bag. “I got two playmats at my baby shower, so I thought I’d bring one to leave here. Saves you buying one yourself.”
Preston watched as she snapped a couple pieces together, then placed it on the carpeted floor. “Would you prefer I put it in the guest room?”
“No. It’s great right there.” Preston figured Chelsea would look at him like he was nuts if he told her how much he loved seeing all the baby stuff—and her and Lennon—in his space.
Chelsea took several bottles of milk out of a smaller cooler. “Mind if I put these in the fridge?”
“Not at all.”
Returning, she opened what Preston assumed was the typical diaper bag. Inside, in addition to diapers and wipes, he saw burping cloths, a couple more sleepers, and a pacifier. “He probably needs to be changed. Want to do the honors?”
While he had two nieces, he hadn’t seen them more than a handful of times while they were still in the diaper phase, so he’d never changed a diaper in his life. “I’m going to need you to talk me through it.”
“You got it.”
He placed Lennon on the changing pad attached to the playpen. It took him a ridiculous amount of time to get the small baby’s legs out of the sleeper. “He’s got one hell of a kick,” Preston observed.
“He’s a strong one, all right. Just like his daddy,” Chelsea added.
Once Lennon’s legs were free, Preston pulled the tabs on the diaper, peering inside and breathing a sigh of relief when he realized this diaper only contained pee.
“You got lucky,” Chelsea mused. “Because once you smell baby shit, it imprints on your olfactory senses hard.”
“Something to look forward to,” he replied sarcastically.
“Okay. Just grab his ankles and lift him…”
Preston followed her directions, doing as she said. Tugging the wet diaper out, Chelsea quickly slid the clean one under him as Preston held on to the squirming infant. “It’s like wrestling an alligator.”
“It really is,” she agreed. “And you have to move fast because I’ve been soaked by more than a few of your son’s Old Faithful impersonations.”
Preston laughed. “Oh, so he’s my son when he pees on you.”
“Absolutely.”
Preston rolled his eyes, while inside he was doing somersaults, delighted that Chelsea seemed a little more at ease with him assuming the father role.
It took another couple of minutes for him to wrangle Lennon’s legs back into the sleeper and get it zipped.
“What’s next?” he asked.
“He’s probably getting hungry. It’s been a few hours since his last bottle. Ready for the feeding tutorial? It’s way easier than the diaper one.”
“Hit me with it.”
Chelsea grabbed a bottle from the refrigerator, then showed him how to prop his arm up on a pillow to make it easier to hold Lennon. The second Preston offered him the bottle, Lennon latched on, gulping the milk down like he was starving.
Chelsea giggled. “You would think I never feed him.”
“Another thing he gets from me. I have a big appetite.”
