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He laughs. “One day, but not anytime soon. I still need to work on me first.”
“Well, you’re doing a good job, keep at it.”
“Thanks, Jones.”
“You’re welcome, Däuchmen.” With that, we say our goodbyes and I whisk my wife home for an afternoon on the sofa, eating ice cream and binge-watchingStranger Things.
* * *
Chelsea is sound asleep in my arms when there’s a knock at the door. Sliding out from under her, I answer to find Phil, the doorman, standing there with a gift box. “Delivery for you, sir.”
“Thanks, Phil.”
I take the gift and head back inside, placing it on the island counter. I lift the lid and inside is a mini hockey stick and a onesie. Lifting it up, I read the front and it says, ‘Future LA Legends player.’ “Get pucked,” I mumble as I notice a card. Pulling it out, I read.
Congrats to you both!
Thought I’d get the lil’ man a gift, hope he loves it as much as I do.
Let’s go Legends.
“That pucking douche,” I growl.
“Who’s a pucking douche?”
“Who else, look what that puckhead got the baby.” I hold the onesie up and show Chels, she begins to cackle.
“Ohh, I love it,” she says. She picks up the hockey stick and turns it to face me, it has ‘BABY JONES’ etched into it.
“That’s cute,” I tell her, “but our baby is not wearing that shit.” I toss the onesie to the side.
“Don’t be a douche,” she teases me. “We just got rid of one, we don’t need another.”
“Fine,” I huff. “But how does he know it's a boy?”
“He’s just guessing, time will tell. Now, come snooze with me, Momma is still tired.”
Sweeping her up into my arms, I whisk her into our bedroom and we have a snooze … after we get our puck on.
CHAPTER15
CHELSEA
… CHRISTMAS MORNING
Lying in bed, I keep my eyes closed, willing the sickness away. Cracking open my eyelid, I let out a breath and smile when I don’t feel the need to vomit. Slowly, I sit up and from the corner of my eye, I see a packet of saltines on the side table and a glass of water. My husband is the best.
Grabbing a cracker, I nibble on it and then I hear the banging that woke me again. With cracker in hand, I slip my feet into my slippers and follow the noises down the hallway, but I notice the door to the spare room is slightly ajar. “Kal,” I call out as I push on the door.
The door swings open and my eyes widen at what I see before me. Our spare room is no longer a spare room, it’s the most amazing nursery I have ever seen. The walls have been painted light gray and along the center of the back wall is the most gorgeous glossy, white wooden crib, which is decked out in Crushers blankets, complete with hockey-themed mobile. On the wall next to the crib is a hockey stick art piece that I can see a rocker chair in front of. On the opposite wall is a Canadian, a US, and a Crushers flag and there are many more cardboard boxes.
This is not what I envisioned my child’s nursery to look like but now that I’ve seen this, it’s perfect. My eyes well with tears and when a set of muscular arms slide around me, I smile. Kal leans in and nuzzles into my neck. “You like?”
Spinning around to face him, I gaze up at my sexier-than-puck husband and nod. “It’s perfect, Kal.”
“I was hoping to have it finished before you woke up as a Christmas surprise, but that pucking stick thing took forever to make.”
“You made that?” I ask him.
