18. Just Call Me Dada

Something is wrong. Behind my eyelids, the bedroom seems brighter than normal. I always set my alarm for dark thirty in the morning, unless it's a weekend. Whew, that must be it.

But there's something else. The weight of something heavy lays across my stomach. Then something more. Soft snores. No—two sets of them. I slowly open my eyes and gasp at the sight, immediately waking.

With Remy between us, Tucker is in my bed, his arm draped across our bodies as if protecting us from the world outside this room. They sleep soundly. After the night Tucker and I had, I let them be, even though I try not to have Remy in the habit of sleeping with me.

I have a feeling Tucker is going to undo all the work I've done over the past few months to keep Remy on a schedule and to set some boundaries with my child. That's a conversation we'll have moving forward.

Tucker needs to respect my parenting style, and I'll try to respect his. My suspicions are that he's going to be a softy. Somehow, though, I think we'll compromise and make it all work.

I can't resist and reach a hand over and gently finger Tucker's hair. His eyes flutter open, the hazel color in them so attractive in the morning light. They crinkle at the corners in a sleepy, sexy smile the second he sees me.

"Morning," his gravely whisper greets me. His gaze shifts between me and Remy. "I'd like to wake up to more mornings like this. He woke at five, crying for you, and since you were out of it, thanks to me and my fine abilities getting you to relax—" He winks. "—I got him and brought him here. I rubbed his back, like you said to do, and he fell asleep like this with his little bottom in the air. Why didn't you warn me how damn cute our son can be?"

I turn to mush and I think this moment between us will live in my heart rent-free forever.

"How are you feeling, anyway?" He asks, grinning ear to ear.

I check in with my body. A little sore, but deliciously so, after everything we did in the bathtub and bed all night. The tight knots of stress and worry, usually in my stomach or back, are gone. Tucker's a miracle worker.

"Absolutely wonderful. Ready to face my case study and maybe get it done today. And you?"

"Like I could a climb a mountain. Or win a game, which I have one tonight. It's the first Vipers' game in the playoffs against the New York Ice Dogs, best of seven."

I look at him like he grew a second nose. "I don't have a clue what that means."

"I have a lot to teach you about hockey, don't I? See, to win the championship cup, we have to play four rounds of playoff games. Each round is the best of seven games. So we play the same team up to seven times to determine who wins the most to move on to the next round."

"Okay, makes sense," I whisper, surprised Remy is still sleeping through all our conversation.

"So, come watch me play. It's the first game against them tonight, and you can be my lucky charm. I'll get you in for free."

I simply curve my lips up without an answer either way. What if Brad's there? There's no telling where he shows up wherever his clients need him to be at any given moment.

Clearly, I need to deal with Brad, because Tucker isn't going anywhere.He's the father of my baby, but so much more. And his eyes are pleading with me like he's a big kid. "Please? I brought you my jersey to wear, and I've never had a woman wear my official jersey before. I'll go get it and be right back."

"Careful, don't—" He wakes the baby by his muscular body jostling the bed getting out of it before I can warn him. In three enormous steps, he picks up his gray sweats, and he's out the bedroom door.

Our baby whines a little, rubbing his eyes awake.

"Good morning, Remy," I greet the sleepy head with a loving smile.

"Ne ne." He reaches for my chest, as our routine in the morning includes breastfeeding, although I'm ready to wean him off and claim my body back.

"Mama," I say and point to myself. I don't think twice and sit up. I prop a pillow behind my back and position him and the blanket around us. He latches on.

There's nothing sweeter than him at my breast, but I always remind myself that this time with him will soon be over. He'll grow old and suddenly one day I'll be looking up into the eyes of a tall man instead of a little boy.

I gently press his hair back from his face. "Mama loves you, Remy."

A gasp at the bedroom door takes my attention away from him. Tucker stands there in his sweats, jersey in one hand, his other hand upon his heart, staring at us.

He lets out a shaky breath. "I will not cry. I'm not going to—" Another shaky breath. "Oh, jeez."

"What's wrong?" My forehead wrinkles, watching him double over, his hands on his knees puffing in and out.

"Not a thing. Everything is so right. You, him, breast… Yep. Picture of adorable sweetness wrapped in sugar right there. Just-just give me a minute."

I chortle, watching him disappear into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. "Remy, your dada is a goofball sometimes."

He unlatches from my breast and points toward the door. "Dada."

Now I can't breathe. "Did you just say Dada?"

"Dada," he repeats, and latches back on, focusing once again on his breakfast.

The bathroom door flies open and Tucker stands there with glossy eyes and a wad of tissues in his hand, staring at us. "I heard that."

"Did you teach him to say that last night?"

"No. We played with toys the entire time you were gone. I might have referred to myself as Dada a few times, like ‘Give Dada the ball' or ‘Please don't pee on Dada while I change your diaper' or ‘If Dada takes a bite of yucky squash from a jar, then you have to' but that's it." He rushes to the bed, gathering us both in his arms. "Our kid called me Dada. Fuck, I'm so happy right now. Oops. You didn't hear me use the F-word, Remy."

I stay in Tucker's hold on the bed, and together, we watch our son breastfeed.

"I had no idea parenthood would be like this, Trouble. Why didn't you tell me? I'm a grown-ass man, and I can't believe the sight of you and Remy brought me to tears. Happy ones, but still."

"You can cry anytime in front of me, and it'll be our secret," I assure him.

"You know I'm still a tough guy, with an enormous cock raging for you, though, right?"

"Yes, honey, your manhood is still intact," I burst into giggles. God, this man makes me laugh. And he can make my body shake with multiple orgasms. Most of all, life seems a little brighter today, and not just because the sun is shining through the window.