OLIVIA
I’M ALONE when I wake up, which isn’t how I’m accustomed to waking when I sleep at Carter’s, nor how I prefer to. My personal favorite is with his head between my legs, or his fingers, and both are often, but beggars can’t be choosers.
I’d choose either of those over this, but there’s a lukewarm mug of tea waiting for me on the small table beside the bed, so I can’t complain.
I’m not shocked to find Alannah’s bed empty—and destroyed—but definitely surprised to find no Jem. Carter likes the little guy and enjoys his snuggles, but I’d be lying if I said he didn’t always look mildly petrified that Jem might do a baby thing while Carter’s holding him, like poop or cry.
The kitchen’s a disaster, there’s pancake batter everywhere—a surefire sign that Alannah was in charge of breakfast—and there’s nobody in sight, which slightly frightens me.
I pause at the top of basement stairs, the sliding barn-style door cracked open, music drifting through it. “Carter?”
“Down here, Ol!”
He’s got a lot going on down here, like an extensive home theater—I know, the irony that we prefer to build a fort—a playroom with an air hockey table, a pool table, one of those basketball shooting games, and an impressive home gym. We spend an hour in there most mornings when I’m here on the pretense of working out. Carter’s working out; I’m just staring while I jog aimlessly on the treadmill or do a half-assed job of lifting weights. You try to focus when that man is shirtless, sweaty, and grunting. It’s impossible.
But at least Carter’s wearing a shirt this morning.
He’s also got a babbling Jem strapped to his chest, gnawing on that silicone hockey skate he loves so much. The sight has my lady parts doing a little dance, and I shift a little uncomfortably where I stand.
“Hey, babe.” Carter grins like he maybe knows exactly what I’m thinking.
He and Alannah are sitting side by side on a bench, doing bicep curls. Alannah’s weights are tiny and pink, and with each curl, she grunts out a huuu.
“Hey, Auntie Ollie.” She barely glances in my direction. “Oh yeah, baby. Feel the burn!”
I press a kiss to Jem’s hair before Carter lifts his lips to mine. “Aw, darn. Looks like I missed the workout.”
The look Carter flashes as he stands and sets his weights down tells me he’s on to me. He catches me staring more than he catches me doing any actual work. “We thought we’d let you sleep in.”
“You didn’t have to get them up all by yourself. You could’ve woken me.”
He shrugs and ruffles Jem’s hair. “It’s no big deal. Lanny helped me with everything.”
“He even changed Jemmy’s bum!” Alannah makes a yuck face and pinches her nose. “It was sooo stinky.” She thumbs proudly at her chest. “I helped Carter get Jem’s breakfast ready.”
“And I fed him.” Carter looks just as proud, huge hand covering Jem’s entire belly as he bounces him around on his chest.
The three of them are so freaking adorable together it hurts, and I try to quell the urge in my ovaries to start reproducing.
Not now, babymakers.
“Quit looking at me like that.”
I blink up at him, giving my head a wag. “Like what?”
Carter juts a hip and winks. “I look good, don’t I?”
My shoulders pop up. “Meh.”
“Meh?” He steps closer, taking a quick peek over his shoulder—Alannah’s occupied with an incredibly energetic round of jumping jacks—before his lips touch my cheek, my jaw, my neck. “I think I look hot. I’d make one helluva DILF, wouldn’t you say so, Ollie girl?”
My heartbeat settles between my thighs, and before I can pretend the thought hasn’t crossed my mind, Alannah pops between us.
“What’s a DILF?”
“It’s a dad I’d like to fff—” Carter slams his mouth shut, eyes bugged as he looks my way for saving. I’m not going to save him. He got himself into this; let’s see him get out of it. He smiles easily at Alannah and pats her head. “Fish with. A dad I’d like to fish with.”
Her nose scrunches. “Wouldn’t that be a DILFW? Because with starts with a W. So you have to add the W, Carter.” She tilts her head, gives him an assessing once-over and a patronizing pat on his arm, before she walks away. I’m gnawing my lip off in an attempt not to laugh in Carter’s sweet, surprised face.
“You—” Carter points a threatening finger in my face, “—shut it.”
I zip my lip and pretend to throw away the key. “Yes, sir.”
He turns after Alannah. “Hey, sassy pants!”
She twists, grinning at him, all devil.
“You ready to go skating?”
Her resounding shriek as she runs from the room and tears her way up the stairs is answer enough, and a half hour later, the four of us are stepping out on the ice at Rogers Arena, which is something I never, ever thought I’d say. But being the captain of the Vancouver Vipers affords you certain luxuries, like convincing them to let you use the ice before they fix it up for the game this afternoon.
With Jem strapped to my chest, all snuggled and cozy, Carter helps me step over the threshold, and I do a slow spin, marveling at the sight Carter sees for every home game, minus the fifteen thousand fans.
“I don’t wanna wear my helmet.”
“You have to wear your helmet.”
“But you’re not wearing your helmet.”
I twist in the direction of the bickering, Alannah’s fists on her hips as she argues with Carter. He’s holding her helmet out to her and she is adamantly looking anywhere but at it. Little shit.
“I’m an adult” is Carter’s only argument. It’s the one I use most often. “My brain is fully developed. Yours isn’t.” He knocks on his toque-covered head. “Gotta protect those growing brain cells, Lanny.”
“But—”
“No but’s. Helmet on or no skating, little Miss.” He lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Seems like an easy choice to me.”
Oh my. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?
Alannah throws her head back with a groan before she steps forward and lets Carter snap her helmet into place.
He gives her cage a shake. “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I spy her smile from here as she swats his hand away. “You’re just like my dad.”
“Handsome?”
“Annoying.” With a snicker, she hops onto the ice, steals the puck from between his unsuspecting feet, and takes off like a bat out of hell.
Carter’s not far behind her, and before she knows it, he’s got the puck on the tip of his stick as he twirls around her.
“Aw, man! You’re too fast!”
After a while, I take a seat on the bench and take Jem out of the sling, bouncing him on my lap. He babbles along, waving his hands around as we watch Carter and Alannah zip around the ice. I snap a few pictures and smile when Carter starts giving Alannah tips on crossovers and flicking her wrist just right in order to get that perfect “top shelf” shot on net.
“See, when you’re checking someone into the boards, you wanna go in low and finish high,” I hear him saying, shoving her gently in the side with his shoulder.
“Carter! We’re not giving her tips on how to land in the penalty box.”
Carter whispers something in her ear that makes her snicker before he looks my way, flashing me an innocent grin. “Yes, Ollie.” He flips the puck to Alannah and tells her to go for a spin, making his way over to me. He taps my nose with his stinky gloves. “Want me to take Jemmy for a ride?”
“Sure.” I hand him over as Carter ditches his gloves and stick, and he smooches Jem’s cheek before snuggling him close. “Be careful.”
“Careful’s my middle name, Ol.”
“Careful is not your middle name. Careful’s not even in your vocabulary.”
He ignores me, naturally, and I watch in awe as he spins around the ice with my nephew in his arms, shrieking with giggles and making Carter laugh. They’re a sight to be seen, and I don’t think I could be more in love.
Carter skates by me with an irritatingly smug smirk and an even smugger wink. “You look like you wanna have my babies.”
I scoff and wave him off. Screaming yes seems highly inappropriate, after all.
“Is that a hell-yes scoff?”
“It’s a your-baby-would-absolutely-destroy-my-vagina scoff.”
“Hm.” He twirls around, the tip of his tongue touching his top lip. “Sounds like a hell-fucking-yes to me.”
Hell. Fucking. Yes.
Except hours later, after his afternoon game has ended and Alannah hops off Cara’s shoulders, scrambling over to Carter the moment he steps out of the change room, her face painted with his now smeared number, it becomes apparent the general consensus is I already have kids, and Carter’s stepping in to play the role of stepdad.
Carter scoops Alannah into his arms, his apprehensive gaze slicing my way, then back to the reporters. I shrug. Jeremy would love if Alannah was on TV.
“And who’s this, Carter?” one of the reporters asks.
“This is my friend Alannah.”
“I play hockey, too, ya know,” she tells them. “It’s not just a boy sport. And I’m really good. I’m fast. Like, super fast. My mom says I’m like lightning.”
All eyes slide my way before someone asks, “Is that right? And what team do you play for?”
Alannah smiles proudly, throwing her shoulders back. “I play for the Avalanche. We’re the blue team. And I’m a center, like Carter.”
“Right on! And are you having fun hanging with Carter?”
Her head bobs. “Me and Jemmy slept at Carter’s last night. We had pizza and Oreo brownies, ’cause me and Carter both love Oreos, and we watched movies, and then Carter tucked me into bed, and this morning I showed him how to change a stinky bum, and then we worked out in the gym and he took me skating.” She sucks in a deep breath and releases it with a body-sagging sigh. “Carter’s the best ever.”
Oh, my brother’s gonna hate that last one.
“Is that so?” The reporter can’t contain her amusement. She looks my way, as do the rest of them. “And what do you think of Carter dating your, uh…”
I resist the overpowering urge to roll my eyes. They’re beating around the bush, trying to figure out what they want to know, which is whether or not I’m a single mom to two kids.
Alannah doesn’t give her a chance to finish the question anyway. She throws both arms around Carter’s neck and smooshes her cheek to his. “I hope they get married and I’ll be the flower girl and they’ll have lots and lots of babies.”
Oh shit.
