Page 42 of Rematch
At least, not until the fate Ethan spoke of reared its head.
Then he shot her a too serious, too terrified look. “Besides, if we don’t do this, Aunt Agnes will haunt us until the day we die.”
Chelsea laughed even though there was no arguing with that. Because Aunt Agnes would. Nor was there much room for debating fate.
Because on the same day Chelsea discovered she was pregnant, Ethan’s beloved great-aunt Agnes passed away.
Aunt Agnes had never married or had children, which was a shame because she would have made the world’s greatest mother. She’d lived in a gorgeous house on the river in Patapsco Park, just outside Baltimore. Her home was far too large for just one person, but that was due to necessity because it was overflowing with costumes and props from Agnes’s time as an actress in New York, maritime memorabilia from the two years she’d sailed around the world, as well as countless treasures from her travels to every continent on the planet, including Antarctica.
Whenever she was home, she planned elaborate, fun weekend sleepovers for “her favorite nephew” Ethan—he was her only one—as well as the two “nieces of her heart”—her and Allyson. Aunt Agnes had “adopted” them as her own when they were young kids, and she’d never wavered in her devotion and love, never forgetting birthdays or special occasions, sending postcards and souvenirs from her travels, wearing a huge, oversized Kentucky Derby hat to their high school graduation ceremony as she cheered the loudest from the front row.
Weekends with Agnes were some of the best times of Chelsea’s life.
Agnes didn’t own a television, something that had horrified them the first time they went to stay at her house, when they were just seven years old. Allyson nearly had a panic attack when she realized she couldn’t watch Nickelodeon. However, that horror didn’t last more than the first hour, as Agnes pulled out her extensive hat collection and the four of them spent hours trying them on, inventing names and accents for each “character.”
After that, she, Ethan, and Allyson lived for sleepovers with Agnes, having countless adventures with the playful, attentive woman, which included sledding down the stairs on an inflatable raft, taking long cruises down the river on her pontoon boat, and holding their own dance-offs that kept them up way too many hours past their bedtime. They may have been the kids, but Agnes’s imagination left theirs in the dust as they acted out extravagant stories—always in costume, of course.
When they got too old to play, Agnes created amazing, challenging scavenger hunts that took them entire weekends to solve. And it was Agnes who encouraged Chelsea and Ethan’s dream of opening their own bakery. She’d nurtured that desire by including “bakery time” in their sleepover activities, Ethan serving as a sometimes unforgiving, strict boss, barking orders at Chelsea as she slaved away creating the delicious pastries and pies Agnes and Allyson—her most dedicated “customers”—consumed.
Coming back home to Baltimore in July had been a bittersweet return because, while Chelsea had missed her hometown during the months spent in Paris, the city didn’t feel the same without Agnes.
The fate Ethan referred to was the substantial amount of money Aunt Agnes left, not only to Ethan but to her and Allyson as well.
In her will, she had strongly suggested that some of the money she and Ethan received be used for Sugar and Spice Bakery, informing them life was wasted on adults, and she’d raised them better than to make life choices based on society-driven common sense and fear of failure.
Then she reminded them that the most important decisions weren’t made with the head but with the heart. Which, when they discussed it, both she and Ethan admitted they’d let their heads be the driving forces behind their “adult decisions.” Chelsea had come clean about using the move to Paris to avoid Rick, and Ethan said he’d thought at the time that money and security were more important than happiness.
When Ethan called to tell her Agnes had passed, he’d been unaware that the entire time they were on the phone, Chelsea was staring at the two lines on a pregnancy test.
She’d spent the rest of that night alone, wavering between shock over the baby growing inside her, and grief over losing one of her favorite people on the planet.
A month later, Ethan called again, telling her about the inheritance and how Agnes wanted them to use some of the money to start their bakery, and that was when she’d dropped her own little bomb.
“She would love this,” Ethan mused, admiring the sign before glancing inside the shop window. “And him.” Ethan was completely enamored of her son, and he’d vowed the moment he heard she was pregnant that he was going to be her baby’s Aunt Agnes. As far as promises went, Chelsea couldn’t think of a better one.
“I wish she could have met him,” Chelsea added sadly, shivering when a frosty blast of wind hit them. “We should probably go inside. It’s cold out here.”
Ethan snorted, aware her desire to go back inside wasn’t based on temperature as much as she couldn’t bear not being right beside her baby every minute of the day—and night.
He opened the door and they walked inside, slowly pushing the stroller back to the lone table in the place. It was a card table they’d borrowed from Chelsea’s parents, along with the two camp chairs they now dropped down into. For the moment, this was their “office,” the place where they would make all the plans for opening this shop on Valentine’s Day.
“Best baby ever,” Ethan said, looking into the stroller.
“He really is. Except, well…if I could get him to sleep through the night, he’d be a hell of a lot more perfect.”
Ethan ran his finger under one of her eyes gently, no doubt tracing the dark circle there. “He’s a growing boy, always hungry. He’ll get there in another two or three months, especially when you start him on solid foods. You just have to hang in there.”
Ethan spoke as if he was an authority on the subject, despite not having a child of his own. Of course, that made sense, considering he’d read every single book and article ever published about babies, taking his role of godfather and honorary uncle very seriously.
“Probably gets that from his father, who was a big guy. Lots of growing to do,” she mused. Then she laughed. “Oh, and from me because I’m always hungry.”
Ethan rolled his eyes. “We can attribute his hunger to you. But those eyes…”
Gray eyes. Distinctive. Beautiful. Every time she saw them, her heart panged painfully as she remembered…him.
The best thing Chelsea had ever done was spend the night with Preston, and she still felt that way even now. The past year might have had a lot of ups and downs, panic and stress and sleepless nights, but they were worth it.
Because of that night. And because of her baby.
