I’d had a hell of a lot of fun decorating this room. There were polar bears and penguins on skates, as well as our logo, and everything was done in the blues and yellows of the IceCaps colors. Lying across the rail of the crib was a tiny little IceCaps jersey, and she picked it up.

“River got him that. I’m pretty sure he investigated how small ice skates actually came. He can’t wait to teach him.”

Nova huffed out a chuckle and turned around in a circle, gazing around the room. “It’s beautiful, Rigby. Thank you. Both rooms… I mean, you didn’t have to go to all that effort.”

Stepping closer, I handed her back the baby. “I know this seems like a lot, but I swear it to the hockey gods, you’re going to be happy here. The guys… they don’t know how to express themselves sometimes, but they’re happy you’re here too. Huey needed a mama, and it’s going to take a little while to come to terms with the fact that this all turned out for the best, even if they have no legal rights to Huey. A house full of bachelors and a nanny is no way to raise a kid, but they’ve never had the influence of a mother in any way that wasn’t painful.”

She frowned, and I bit my tongue. Ah shit, I’d said too much.

Pasting a grin on my face, I guided them back out into the hallway. “Dev’s room is through there if you need him,” I said, pointing to the closed door. “Now, let me show you the rest of the house. Did I tell you we have a pool?”

Chapter Eight

NOVA

I was overwhelmed. This wasn’t a house—it was a freaking mansion. It had a pool, cinema, gym… and Devan’s sitting room? A full-blown library. The ensuite to the nursery had been converted to a butler’s pantry, and had everything I’d need to make bottles in the middle of the night, or bath him, or anything.

Rigby bounced around me like an excited puppy, wanting to show me everything all at once. A half-naked puppy. A sexy, half-naked puppy. He showed me every square inch of the house, Huey cradled easily in his arms as if he weighed absolutely nothing at all.

When we got to the kitchen, I gasped. “Oh. My. God.”

He grinned, and it was a heartstopping expression on his handsome face. “Right? None of us can really cook—we usually get shit sent in—but even I know this kitchen is impressive. Do you like to cook?”

I loved to cook. More specifically, I liked to make chocolate. It had been nearly impossible in my tiny apartment, and not much easier in my parent’s house. But with these marble countertops, and a six-burner stovetop?

Holy shit.