“Well, now you have me to help with that,” he said, ridiculously excited about the idea of caring for his son, even though he was pissed off if some other guy was leaving her to do everything on her own. “Although, I don’t know how to do half of what you just said.”
She smiled, though it was far too brief for him. Then her anxiety crept back in. “Do you want to get a lawyer or…” She sighed. “I have no idea how to do any of this.”
“Let’s try to sort it out on our own first. If you’d be more comfortable drawing up something legal, we can do that, but for now, why don’t we start with the basics and move from there. We should probably address our expectations for each other and our hopes in regard to time spent with him.”
“Okay. Yeah. That makes sense.”
“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.
“Same thing I always do. Bath, bottle, bedtime,” she replied.
“You have your own place?”
Chelsea grimaced. “Unfortunately, no. When I returned to Baltimore, it made sense for me to move back in with my parents, financially and because I needed help with Lennon.”
So she wasn’t living with the guy. Preston wasn’t sure why that fact made him feel better. No, not better. Hopeful. If she and Mr. Man from the Street weren’t in a serious relationship, Preston was throwing his hat in the ring. Because he was determined to expand on what they’d started last year.
Chelsea kept talking. “Living with them works…for now. They welcomed me home with open arms, and they’re over the moon with their grandson.”
Grandson.
God, Preston couldn’t wait to call his own folks. Of course, knowing his mother, she’d be on the next flight from Seattle to Baltimore. Soooo…maybe he should put that call off until he and Chelsea made some concrete decisions. The upcoming conversation was already going to be difficult with the two of them trying to agree on who got him when. He wanted to have some answers regarding all of that before he told his parents, because Mom would sure enough ask those questions.
“Could we meet for a late dinner tonight? To discuss where we go from here?”
She nodded. “Lennon typically goes down for the night at seven and, if I’m lucky, he sleeps until about midnight. My parents will be home to watch him, so how about seven-thirty?”
Preston wished he could be there for bath, bottle, and bedtime, but the two of them needed time to sort things out first. “How about Pat’s Pub? Have you ever been there?”
Chelsea shook her head. “No, but I’ve heard good things about it. I can meet you there.”
They fell silent again as Preston gently rocked his son. Lennon had fallen sound asleep, cooing the sweetest sounds as he breathed. It was almost like he was singing.
“I don’t know if I can walk away from him,” Preston admitted.
“I get that. I hate being away from him. I swear I spent the first month after he was born staring at him twenty-four seven. I have approximately seven million pictures and videos of him.”
“Will you send them to me?” Preston asked, as he pulled his phone from his back pocket. “All of them.”
“I will, but it might take a few weeks,” she joked.
Preston unlocked his phone with his face, then handed it to her. “Put your contact information in?”
She did, then she sent a text from his phone to hers before handing his back. Grabbing hers, she added him as well.
Preston glanced at the contact info. “Chelsea Murphy.”
He had it. Her name and her phone number. At last.
Then he glanced at Lennon. “Lennon Murphy?”
She nodded. “I didn’t give him a middle name. I thought if I ever found you…” She shrugged. “I figured we could add your name.”
Jesus. She really had hoped to find him. Saving room to give his name to Lennon was the sweetest, most thoughtful thing he’d ever heard. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely grateful.
“So…you’re a hockey player, huh?” she asked. “I didn’t realize you’d actually made that childhood dream come true.”
“I did. And now…” Preston looked around the building. “Yours is coming true too.”
