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I place my free hand on his knee. “I will. And it’s okay for the newness to be difficult. Do you think I seamlessly fell into a rhythm of taking care of another human?” I scoff.
“Um, yes. I do, actually. You’re amazing with her, Ambs.” He covers my hand with his.
Warmth spreads through me, starting at my hand then moving into the rest of my body, at his words and the heat of his skin.
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
He leans back, taking his hand with him. “Most of my stress today is due to my mother. Which is what I was coming to talk to you about this morning.”
“Ahh, Nella really hijacked that conversation, huh?”
He nods slowly. “So, my mom is going to be here tomorrow. And she’s bringing Farrah with her.”
My eyes dart up to meet his gaze. “Oh, wow. My procedure isn’t for three days, so I thought we’d have more time to get things prepared.” I take a deep breath, realizing why Ford was tense during Colby’s visit. We have a lot to do and a lot to talk about before family comes to stay.
Ford looks away from me. “We need to discuss…appearances. I think you should sleep in my room while they’re here.”
I inhale a sharp breath. I don’t even know why I’m surprised; it makes sense for us to share a room. This week has been so insane, I haven’t had time to think about it. “Right, yeah. That would make sense. What about Nella?”
He finally looks at me. “My house has five bedrooms, so she could have her own room. But if you like to keep her close, that works too. My master is plenty big enough for the three of us.”
“She slept in her own room in my tiny apartment. I actually sleep better when I can’t hear every move she makes, but I have a video monitor for peace of mind.”
His face relaxes, those surprisingly full lips turning up in a smirk. “She’s a noisy sleeper.”
I laugh. “Don’t I know it.”
“She gets it from her mom.” He leans back, settling into the couch.
My mouth gapes and I shove his shoulder with mine, causing Nella to lose her latch on the bottle. She roots around until she latches again and slurps greedily, making obscene noises.
Ford’s face reddens, but his head falls back on the couch with a loud laugh. I stare at him; I’ve always loved his laugh. Ford doesn’t always connect with people’s humor, and jokes sometimes don’t make sense in his beautiful brain. Which makes his laughter all the more special when it appears.
He sighs, his laughter trailing off. “For such a small person, everything she does is so loud.”
“You’re not wrong.” I smile down at my noisy girl, who now has milk dripping down her chubby cheek. “Okay, so besides sharing a room and acting like we’re in love, what else is there?”
His jaw ticks, and very briefly, he looks frustrated. Before I can analyze the look, it’s gone. “We probably need wedding rings,” he admits, looking down sheepishly. He blows air into his cheeks as he stares at his lap. Like wedding rings are embarrassing to bring up. His body language reminds me of the boyish Ford from twenty years ago.
I smile. I’m not sure why he’s embarrassed—because rings make this feel more real, or because he’s ashamed there’s something he didn’t think of and prepare for. “Yeah, I guess we do. I hadn’t thought of that. Is there a jewelry store we could stop at later today after Nella’s morning nap?”
“Remember the shopping center we went to when you visited last? There’s a jewelry store in there. I think it’s where West bought Mel’s rings, actually.”
Snorting a laugh, I adjust Nella in my arms. She’s sound asleep now, so I gently pull her away so I can snap my top back in place, then cuddle her against my shoulder so she can burp. “We don’t need real rings.”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “We do.”
My head snaps up to look at him, to see if he’s teasing. He’s not. “Ford, you’re not buying me an expensive ring. You already got me a whole freaking truck.”
“Amber,” he starts, looking deep into my eyes. His eyes shift slightly, as if he wants to look away, but he stays focused on me. This gives me a chance to look at the deep brown color of his eyes and admire how pretty they are. Ford’s eyes are almost so dark, they match his pupils. You have to get really close to see the contrast. “People are going to be watching you. They’re going to ask questions and be nosy. It’s the worst part of my life, the media…the attention.” He groans. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to deal with it now too. Which means you have to have a real ring. People will dig until they figure out the cut, clarity, and design of your ring. There will be articles about the ring Ford Remington purchased for his wife. It’s really stupid, but for whatever reason, fans are fascinated by this stuff.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m going to be awesome at being famous.” I flip my pink tipped hair over my shoulder. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m the only red-headed NHL wife out there. We needed some distinction amongst the blondes.” I’m teasing, but being in the public eye really doesn’t scare me. I love dressing up and doing my makeup. So, photograph your hearts out, paparazzi.
“Why are most NHL wives blonde, by the way ? Have you dated all blondes?” I ask, genuinely curious.
He quirks a brow. “I don’t date.”
“Ah, you’re into hookups?”
