Her mouth drops open and she blinks a few times before she speaks. “You’re proposing to me naked in bed? Right before you were about to push into me?”
“Paise, you’re kind of killing the mood. It’s a yes or no question.”
I don’t really care that she’s talking about being naked or anything else. I just want her to answer the question before my heart beats out of my chest from the anxiety this entire process had caused me.
Ring shopping with Ford was a bad idea. The man has Harry Winston taste with a Harry Winston wallet and wanted me to spend Harry Winston money. I wanted the best ring I could afford, but I want to be able to take care of my woman too.
Three carats isn’t bad though. At least I hope not.
“Do you actually think I’d say no?” she asks, still not giving me a clear answer. “Oh, it’s beautiful. Can I take it out?”
I snap the box shut and she retracts her fingers. “Only if you say yes.”
“So you think I’d decline an offer to marry you?”
“Paisley,” I bite out, and she laughs.
“You’re so easy. You know that?”
“Answer the question before I return the damn thing.”
“Return it?” Her mouth falls open. “You don’t want to be one of those guys.”
I drill my gaze into her. “This is a proposal. You’re supposed to cry and fawn over the ring and plaster yourself to my body.”
“I’m sorry.” She sulks for a moment. “Ask me again.”
I open the box. “Will you marry me?”
“Yes! Oh my god, I’m crying.” She fans her face where there are no tears, then she throws herself on me, making me lose my balance and we fall to the floor with a thud.
“I guess we’ll remember this moment forever.”
She climbs on top of me, opens the ring box, puts the diamond on her left ring finger, and holds it up for me. “How do I look as Mrs. Petrov?”
“You look damn good, especially when you’re only wearing the ring.”
“Then show Mrs. Petrov what she’s getting for the rest of her life.”
I stand, lift her, and toss her on the bed. Falling to my knees, I grab her legs and yank her to the edge of the bed, swinging her ankles over my shoulders.
Five minutes later, she’s screaming the three-letter word I was looking for, over and over again.
“You have some spit-up right there.” I point at Ford’s jersey. He doesn’t but I still enjoy busting his balls.
We’re in the locker room for the first game of the season. He’s been on baby duty most of the off-season. He and the baby mama have been trying this co-parenting thing, and it’s worked out surprisingly well.
“Har har, just wait until you assholes get one,” he says.
“Have one, you mean?” Aiden asks.
“Whatever, the thing cries all the time.”
Sweet Annabelle Jacobs wailed her way into this world right after Paisley and I got back together, meaning Ford couldn’t spend his off-season gallivanting around Europe with French models. Poor bastard. Or so he’d have you think.
“She, you mean,” Aiden corrects him again, and I laugh.
“I love my daughter. I mean, I think I have that feeling dads talk about. I cried when she was born. That means something, right?” Ford asks us, as if either of us would know.
I’m not used to anything going normally—just look at my proposal to Paisley earlier. Not that I would change it. It’s us and I love us.
“I’m surprised. You’ve manned up,” I say, patting Ford on the back.
My phone dings in my locker.
“Let me guess, your leash is too taut and the master is calling.” Ford rolls his eyes.
“Saige wants to throw you an engagement party,” Aiden says to me.
“I bet Paisley would like that.” I pick up my phone and blink. “Uh…” I read the message again.
“Hey, I have a great idea. My little one can be your flower girl if you wait a few years.” Ford points at both of us. “She can do you both.”
“Might want to rephrase that,” Aiden says, shaking his head.
My phone dings again as another message comes through.
“What does the pretty therapist want?” Ford asks me. Clearly we’re ruining the first game for him so far.
He’s receiving an award for a scoring milestone before the game starts tonight. His baby mama, Britney, is supposed to bring Annabelle so Ford can show her off during the ceremony.
“She said Britney just got to the arena.”
“Thank God she’s on time. We had a talk about that earlier today. Half the time she’s not showered when I get over there to pick up Annabelle and she’s a hot mess.”
“Well, she had a baby a few months ago,” Aiden says. “Cut her some slack.”
“Britney’s not here anymore,” I say. “Paisley says she dropped off the baby with her and took off. She said there’s a note in the bag.”
I look at Ford, whose mouth is hanging open. “What the fuck? She just left my kid with someone? No offense to Paisley.”
“Want her to bring Annabelle down here with the note?” I ask, unsure of what to do in this situation.
“No. I gotta finish getting ready for the game.”
“Ford,” Aiden sighs.
“Just ask the girls to watch Annabelle until the game, okay? I’ll get the note when they bring her down to the ice when I get the award.”
He sits down, and I glance at Aiden, unsure what to do.
A half hour later, Paisley hands Ford Annabelle by the ice, he gets his award, pictures are taken, and he hands his baby back to Paisley while she hands him the letter. While the staff gets the carpets off the ice and gets it ready for us to skate, he opens the letter with Aiden and me on either side of him.
I’m really sorry, Ford. I can’t do this. I’m not meant to be a mother. You’re so good to her. Love her extra for me.
* * *
Britney
My eyes widen at Aiden and his mouth hangs open. Ford turns around, all the color drained from his face.
I pat him on the shoulder. “We’ll be there for you. Whatever you need.”
“I’m a single dad now?”
This is not good.
Paisley and Maksim need a little more of an HEA, are we right?
Check out their bonus scene HERE
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Boy does Ford have a trip planned for his readers! Don’t miss his book, Faking it with #41 coming September 21st! Scroll ahead for a short excerpt. CLICK HERE to pre-order it for a discounted price!
“Are you laughing at Daddy?” He puts his face on her belly and vibrates his lips against her skin. She makes the same sound and he lifts his head. “You are laughing. That’s not gas, right?”
The amazement in his tone has my hand landing on my stomach because I’m pretty sure my ovaries did a three-sixty. Who would have ever thought he had it in him to be this man? Certainly not me.