“I would never kick you out of your own house—that’s just silly. It would actually be great for my parents to see us together.”

“Like a family?” RJ looks so hopeful.

I nod as I smooth my palm over Kody’s silky hair. “Thank you for taking care of us last night. It means a lot, RJ—and for convincing my parents to get on a plane and come visit. I’m warning you, though, they can be a lot to handle.”

“I think I’ve got your mom covered.”

“Yeah, well, she’s the easier of the two to win over.” But I’m hoping that when they see the way he cares for me and Kody—and how much I care about him—they’ll come around. That he’s willing to face them and the choices that have brought us to this point tells me everything I need to know.

CHAPTER 24

HOUSEGUESTS

Rook

It’s been a very, very long time since I met the parents of a woman I was dating. Like, all the way back to high school. And this isn’t just a regular meet-the-parents scenario, because the reality is I’m not a regular guy. Being a professional hockey player in Chicago is like being Britney Spears in Vegas. It’s not the low-key image I painted of myself when I first met Lainey, and that lie is going to be a huge issue with her parents. Which I can understand.

Lainey seems to want to pack the entire contents of Kody’s bedroom, so I finally admit that I’ve already converted one of my bedrooms into a nursery and she just needs the basics.

Lainey stops stuffing a bag with clothes and diaper cream and gives me an incredulous look. “When would you have time to set up a nursery? You’ve been here more than you’ve been home the past couple of weeks.”

I shove my hands into my pockets. “I ordered a bunch of stuff and had painters and a decorator come in.”

She sits down on the edge of the bed, looking tired again. “It’s not easy to get used to the fact that you can afford to hire people to do all these things for you.”

“I’ll work on conditioning you slowly. In the meantime, can you let me take care of this? We don’t have to pick your parents up for another five hours. You spent a good part of yesterday reenacting that scene from The Exorcist into the toilet bowl. You might feel better, but you’re not really in any kind of shape to be doing much other than lying around, getting better.”

“We’ll pack Kody’s bag. Then I’ll lie down.”

I’d like to argue with her, but I can see that she’s not going to be able to relax until his bag is packed too. And I know without her having to say another word that she doesn’t trust me to pack it without her supervision.

I force her to take a seat in the rocking chair, from which she calls out all the things he’ll need. I don’t bother to tell her I have almost all the same things at my place already.

After a few minutes she stops calling out items. I look over to find her passed out in the chair. I leave her there while I change her sheets, then carry her back to her bedroom. Since we’re all underslept, I use one of her nursing pillows to surround Kody and set him in the middle so he’s flanked on either side, and the three of us have a nice long nap.

When Lainey wakes, I run her a bath filled with Epsom salts for the aches and pains while she nurses Kody. Lainey looks significantly better than she did twenty-four hours ago, and she’s ready for a trip to the airport.

I’m a bit of a mess, still wearing my shirt Lainey sprayed with breast milk and Kody spit up on earlier. I’m also still unshaven and unshowered. At least I have a jacket to cover the shirt stains, and my ball cap covers my hair.

We head down to my SUV, which already has a baby seat installed, and load all the bags. I park at the airport, and Lainey straps Kody to my body with the straitjacket carrier. She wanted to wear him, but I thought the extra weight and exertion wouldn’t be good for her. It’s impressive how quickly she can manage to get four hundred yards of fabric wrapped around me.

I’ve learned that just because we won’t be at the airport long doesn’t mean we should leave the baby bag in the car, so I shoulder that too. At least it’s blue with little airplanes, so it’s sort of manly-ish.

My palms are sweaty as we walk from the parking garage to the arrivals area. Lainey slips her hand in mine and gives it a squeeze. “They’re going to love you as soon as they see how hard you’re trying.”

“Fingers crossed.” I squeeze her hand back. “Should I get you a wheelchair? Do you feel well enough for this? Maybe you should’ve stayed in the car.”

“I’m fine. Just a little tired, and this won’t take long.”

As soon as we’re at arrivals, I make Lainey sit down. Then I find the closest airport café and grab her a bottle of water, a mint tea, and a buttered bagel to nibble on while we wait.

I take the seat beside her, adjusting Kody’s legs so he’s comfortable. He’s also managed to pass out again. Lainey eats half the bagel before her parents arrive. Her mother and father pull her into a group hug, murmuring how much they missed her and how happy they are to be here.

I can see, in just that one hug, how much they truly do care, even if sometimes that love has been stifling for her. And I get it, because Lainey comes across as delicate at times, when in reality her innocence and sense of adventure are exactly the things that make her stronger and more resilient than people give her credit for. And if that’s not convincing enough, then the fact that she came to Chicago to raise a baby on her own should do it.

Having Kody strapped to my body functions a lot like a shield.

“Oh! Isn’t this a picture? All this handsomeness is almost too much to handle!” Lainey’s mom pinches Kody’s cheek with one hand and pats mine with the other. “And you’re not bad looking either.”

Her father stands behind her mother, mouth set in a grim line—at least until his gaze shifts from me to Kody, and then his eyes light right up. Lainey unstraps Kody from my body and passes him to her dad. He’s not allowed to hold him very long before her mom swoops in and steals him away.

I shake her dad’s hand and introduce myself, not at all surprised by his wary expression and the very tight grip.

“How was the flight?” I take both suitcases off their hands, and we head back to the parking garage.

“Well, it was just lovely. My doctor gave me something that was supposed to help with the anxiety, and it worked like magic! I wasn’t nervous much at all, and I slept most of the flight because the seats were so comfy. And they served us the nicest breakfast. If I’d known flying would be like that, I would’ve gotten on a plane a long time ago!”

“We flew first class, Elaine. For most people it’s not that nice,” Lainey’s dad, Simon, says.

“Well, then, I guess first class is the only way to go, then, isn’t it?”

Lainey and her mom sit in the back seat. Her mom fusses over her, telling her how she looks pale, and asks if she’s taking care of herself. Meanwhile, I try to drag conversation out of Simon. I would liken it to a tooth extraction, without freezing, done with a set of rusty pliers.

I ask him about his farm, which gets little more than grunts in response. I can feel the confrontation brewing.