“Holy moly, you’re freaking Rasmus Westerholm,” the light-haired woman at the door blurts out, her eyes wide with disbelief. She’s holding a smiling baby in one arm while staring at me as if I stepped out of her TV screen.
I shift my weight, hyper aware of how awkward I am in situations like this.
“Uh, hi?” I say, lifting a hand in a hesitant wave.
Haisley laughs next to me. “Hope we’re not too early.”
“You’re just on time!” The woman exclaims. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting...” She trails off, still gawking at me.
“A minor celebrity?” Haisley offers with a teasing nudge to my ribs. “Yeah, he has that effect on people.”
She shakes her head like she can’t believe what she’s seeing. “When Ollie told me you and your, um,friendRasmus were babysitting for us tonight, I had no idea Rasmus meant Rasmus Westerholm, one of the best forwards in the League.”
That explains the starstruck greeting. “You’re a hockey fan, then?”
Her head bobs enthusiastically. “Hugefan! I grew up in San Diego going to the Riptides games with my dad and brother. We still try to go once or twice a season if we’re in town at the same time. But, wow, I did not expect this when I opened the door.”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you—” I pause, waiting for her to introduce herself even if I already know her name.
“Oh! Right. Where are my manners?” She gives herself a playful facepalm, which makes the little girl in her arms giggle, showing her gummy smile. “I’m Peyton, and this little ray of sunshine is Tilly. Come on in.”
She steps aside, and Haisley slips in first, unwinding her scarf and toeing off her boots as she looks around. I follow her into the apartment, taking in the space. The big, arched windows flood the living room with natural light, making it feel open and inviting. Other touches, including soft blankets and baby toys tucked in a basket, make it feel like home.
“You’ve got a lovely place,” Haisley gushes. “I can’t believe I haven’t been here before.”
“Thank you. Ollie lived here first, back when he spent his nights enjoying single life. And now look at us.” She gestures to the baby in her arms, her voice light with a hint of amusement.
“I sense an interesting story there,” I comment.
She waves her hand in dismissal. “Not as interesting as you. I can’t believe I have you, one of the highest scorers in the League, standing in my living room.”
My baby mama rolls her eyes in good humor. “Trust me, he’s just a guy who loves ABBA and bad jokes.”
I shoot her a look. “Betrayal this early in the evening?”
“Got to keep you humble, Westerholm.”
Before I can respond, movement catches my eye, and a tall guy appears. His long blonde hair, easygoing stance, and graphic T-shirt scream California surfer.
“Hey, man,” he gives me a nod and turns to Peyton. “I swear, she’s normally much more chill and cooler than this, but you know…the hockey fans.”
“Yeah, I get it,” I wave it off, reaching out when he extends a hand. “Rasmus Westerholm.”
“Ollie Braxton,” he introduces himself and moves to give Haisley a hug. “Thanks for watching our little one while we sneak in a much-needed date night.”
“No worries.” I glance at Tilly, who’s happily gnawing on her tiny fist. Babies are so weird but cute at the same time.
“You two go have fun. We’ll keep her safe and very entertained,” Haisley promises.
“I trust you with her,” Ollie says, conviction evident in his voice. Then he glances between us and adds, “And hey, congrats, by the way.”
Pride swells in my chest. “Thanks. It’s all still new, but I’m glad more people know. Feels good to talk about it with someone other than her.”
He laughs at that. “I bet. Well, if you ever need advice from a new dad, don’t hesitate to reach out.”
“Or you can text me,” Peyton adds quickly. “I’m not a stalker, I promise.”
Ollie laughs, pulls her in and presses a gentle kiss to the top ofher head. He whispers something to her, and she beams up at him like he’s her entire world.
