However, the dumbest thing she’d ever done was not get Preston’s last name or his phone number. After returning to Baltimore in July, she’d called the Rittenhouse Hotel, hoping she could convince the front desk clerk to give her Preston’s last name. Despite her pleading and—yes, she wasn’t too proud to admit it—tears, the clerk would not be moved.
From there, Chelsea called the haunted inn, even though she’d known from the start that would be a dead end. Preston had admitted to getting his tickets the same way she had, through a friend. The woman working the front desk of the inn, Tory, was more helpful than the Rittenhouse clerk, going so far as to search the entire list of tickets sold for the event, but sadly, no one with the first name Preston had purchased one. Which was just what she’d expected.
“I hate that Preston doesn’t know about him.”
Ethan had to be as sick of that comment as the “are we insane?” one. Because she had repeated it daily since discovering she was pregnant.
“I know, Cupcake. But you have to let that go, stop beating yourself up over it.”
She appreciated his reassurances, but they did nothing to combat the guilt she felt over being so stupid. Personally, she blamed Serendipity. She’d woken up the morning after that incredible night with Preston and done her best Kate Beckinsale impersonation, telling him it was for the best if they walked away clean from their magical one night.
Now, the idea that Preston was out there, walking around Philadelphia, oblivious to the fact there was a part of him living here in Baltimore, made her physically ill if she thought about it too hard. He deserved to know he was a father.
“Put it away, Chels.” Ethan placed his hand on top of hers. “You tried to find him.”
A couple of long, pleading, somewhat embarrassing phone calls where she admitted she didn’t know the last name of her baby’s father didn’t feel like much of an effort, but what else could she have done?
Ethan was right. She needed to put that regret away. She glanced at the “Bakery Plans” notebook in front of her, flipping it open. They needed to make hay while the sun shined. Or in this case, while the baby slept.
While she’d enjoyed her time in Paris, there was no denying she’d been terribly homesick…and despite her efforts, her French sucked. So after three months in the City of Lights, when she discovered her pregnancy, it hadn’t been a hard decision to make plans to return home to have the baby. After all, in Paris, she would have been alone, and here, she had family and friends to help her.
Of course, returning home hadn’t been without its challenges. For one thing, she was a twenty-six-year-old single mother living at home with her parents. She loved her mom and dad, she truly did, but after being on her own the past six years, moving back into her childhood bedroom was a bit of culture shock. As was trying to parent with her mother, who, while helpful, had definite opinions on basically everything Chelsea should be doing.
She was grateful for her parents’ help and how they’d welcomed her home with open arms, but something was going to have to give, because Chelsea wasn’t sure how much longer she could bite her tongue whenever her mom offered advice about how Chelsea should be living her life…on every subject. From childrearing to Rick. From the bakery to Chelsea’s still-present baby weight.
Lately, Mom was harping about the fact Chelsea wouldn’t be in the boat she was if she wasn’t so impulsive and thought things through before acting.
Too much more time spent under that roof and Chelsea wouldn’t have any tongue left.
She rubbed her eyes, blinking a few times when the words in the notebook grew fuzzy. She was existing on limited sleep, all of it coming in two-hour stints, as she still woke several times a night to feed the baby.
These days, her mom—a part-time teacher’s aide—was watching her son two days a week, Allyson caring for him whenever her work schedule allowed, and she and Ethan covering the rest of the time together here. That worked fine for now, as they were in the planning stages of the new business, and she could do a lot of that with a baby on her lap. It wouldn’t be possible when she was baking in the kitchen, and Ethan was overseeing the counter, working with employees, and managing the business side.
She put thoughts of daycare out of her mind. She wasn’t mentally prepared for it. The idea of leaving her baby boy with strangers stressed her out. The problem was, she wasn’t sure she would be any better prepared come February, and the time to start looking at her options was now…or like months ago.
“You doing okay?” Ethan asked. “Manage to get any sleep last night?”
She shrugged. “The usual.”
“So, no.” He gave her a sympathetic smile. Ethan and Allyson had been delighted by her move back home and, once again, they’d been her rocks, walking beside her as she weaved her way through pregnancy, delivery, and now motherhood.
Ethan placed his hand on her arm. “You know your mom would take a shift, or a whole night, just so you could actually make your way into REM sleep.”
“I know she would, but I’m trying not to ask her to…” Chelsea stopped talking, hating the way she sounded petty, given all her mother had been doing for her.
“I know Ellen is driving you mad. You don’t have to stop talking, just like you don’t have to feel guilty for your feelings. I’m surprised you haven’t lost your shit with her.”
Chelsea’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to be ungrateful, because Mom and Dad really have gone to bat for me, taking it in stride when their single daughter got pregnant by a one-night stand—a man whose last name she doesn’t know—and decided to move back home. It makes me feel like they’re deserving of some patience.”
Ethan laughed. “There’s some patience, Cupcake, and then there’s the patience required for Ellen Murphy.”
Chelsea groaned. “She’s still pissed I didn’t give breastfeeding more of a shot. She’s annoyed as hell about us starting this bakery. And apparently, it’s my fault he’s not sleeping through the night yet,” she said, gesturing to her son. “She always knows better than me, and it’s making me mental.”
“She thinks,” Ethan interjected. “She thinks she knows better. Something that drove you up the wall when we were teenagers. I can only imagine how much worse it is now. You know, the offer to move back in with me?—”
Chelsea raised her hand, cutting him off before he could issue the now-familiar offer. “You and Justin are still in the test-drive on this cohabitation thing. Me moving in with a newborn would cramp your style.”
No one had been more surprised than Chelsea when her commitment-resistant bestie had not only fallen in love but invited his new squeeze to live with him.
