Page 25 of Rock the Cradle of Love
The door swings open and there’s a gasp and an “I’m sorry.”
Noah straightens and smiles at S’more’s daughter. “For what?” He winks. “Opening the door? How are you, Christi? Ready for summer?”
“Hell, yeah.” Christi is almost as tall as Taylor and has red tips on the ends of her short dark hair. She steps back to let them in, eying the baby carrier Noah’s toting, diaper bag sitting in the seat. Her dark brown eyes get big when she sees Emma in Taylor’s arms. “Oh my God. Whose baby? She’s adorable. Can I hold her?”
“This is Emma. I’m adopting her, so mine,” Noah says as Taylor hands Emma over.
Christi’s mouth drops open in surprise. “Are you guys adopting her together?” She looks very interestedly between the two of them.
S’more suspects she might have lesbian leanings and had asked that if the chance arose, they act like a couple in front of her, so…
Noah leans in and kisses Taylor. Christi’s eyes saucer again.
“You know, we just got together, so we’re not. But it’s not outside the realm of possibility at some point.”
“That’s cool,” she says, trying to sound chill about it, but her smile tells another tale. Noah grins.
“Hey, hey,” yells S’more, crossing the large living room. Like most of their teammates, S’more hovers around the six-foot, two-hundred-pound mark. He’s got dark hair like his daughter, but with some gray at the temples, and Christi gets her dark brown eyes from her dad. “There you two are. You’re the last ones to arrive.” His eyes land on Emma in Christi’s arms. “Is this your precious bundle of joy? What’d you call her again, Jingle? Puck Baby?”
Christi laughs and bounces Emma lightly in her arms.
“She’s definitely a bundle of joy.”
“Damn, Thirsty. Congrats.” S’more shakes Noah’s hand and kisses Emma’s head and then Christi’s. “You remember Thirsty and Jingle, right?”
Christi rolls her eyes. “Yes, Dad.”
Noah sets Emma’s stuff out of the way in the living room and follows father and daughter out to the backyard. Noah waves at Linda, S’more’s wife, and Huck, their goalie who cooks like a Food Network chef, as they traipse past the kitchen. The backyard is filled with close to two dozen adults and a handful of children darting around, Christi and Emma not included. The greetings go around again, and then come the congratulations.
Shrieks of laughter and childish shouts peal over the music. A toddler chases his pre-teen brother and they go tumbling to the grass in a heap of giggles.
“I woulda given you one of mine if I’d known you were in the market,” says Prez with a laugh, pointing at his twin daughters jumping on a trampoline, barretted pigtails bouncing with each jump.
With a hand on Noah’s shoulder, Taylor leans in to ask what he wants to drink. No one bats an eye. It’s not indicative of anything. He and Taylor are close friends after all, and linemates, and they attend things together quite often. They’ve definitely been in each other’s personal space on more than one occasion.
Emma’s now being passed around the wives and girlfriends, so Noah takes a seat. He feels odd not having her in his arms. As long as she’s not upset by being the hot potato, he’ll leave her be. She’ll end up in his or Taylor’s lap sooner or later.
Taylor returns with two bottles of beer and plops into the two-seater patio glider next to Noah.
Talk inevitably turns to hockey and the end of their season. A couple of the wives stay to take part, but several of the girlfriends migrate inside. Noah scans the crowd for Emma, but doesn’t see her. His gut clenches, but he takes a breath, lets his knee bounce a little to give his fretting an outlet. She’s fine, he knows that. No one here would run off with her. He doesn’t hear crying, but he’s feeling a bit of separation anxiety all of a sudden. Which is more than crazy since they’re not even biologically related and he’s only had her for three weeks.
Taylor plants a hand on his knee, instantly halting the movement. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.” Noah shakes his head and takes a swig of his beer. “It’s silly.”
“You’re not fine.”
“It’s stupid.”
Taylor tugs Noah so they’re forehead to forehead again and gives Noah a quick kiss. “It’s not stupid if it’s bothering—” Taylor’s gaze slants to the left and he sits up looking like the proverbial deer. Noah gazes around. It was just a matter of time before they did something to give themselves away; they’ve gotten so comfortable with one another at home, with small displays of affection, that they come easily now.
The adults closest to them have gone silent and are all looking at the two of them. Expressions range from surprised to sly to unreadable. Noah knows this moment matters to Taylor. Low key might be best; matter of fact, like there’s nothing out of the ordinary.
“Have y’all never seen a couple have a personal conversation?” asks Noah.
Deegs snorts. “When the fuck did you two become a couple?” The question’s abrupt, but not derogatory.
Taylor and Noah share a glance. “A week ago?” says Noah.
