It's Our Time (Carolina Rebels 3)

“Look! He’s upside down!” Her voice is full of awe as the seahorse, which has his tail wrapped around a plant, leans down toward the sand, making him nearly upside down. His nose touches the sand for a moment before he comes back up. Savannah glances back at me with wonder.

“I love you bunches, you know that?” I blurt out.

She grins. “I love you bunches. Can I have one?” She points to the seahorse and I laugh.

“No, little Miss. They aren’t pets. We can get you a stuffed animal of one if they have one in the gift shop. Are you ready to look at other fishies?”

It takes her five minutes to answer me. We make it through the entire aquarium before coming around to the gift shop. Sydney is sitting on the bench, her head leaning back against the wall, and her eyes are closed. I place Savannah on her own two feet and she runs over to tell her about the seahorses. Sydney can’t seem to show her any true excitement back. Fuck, she must really feel bad.

“C’mon, Savannah. Let’s see what we can find you in the gift shop.”

“I’ll come with you,” Sydney says as she stands.

“No, babe. You take these and go on out to the car. We won’t be long.” I hand her my keys. It’s unnerving that she doesn’t argue with me. We easily find Savannah a stuffed animal seahorse, but it takes her five minutes to pick the “perfect” one. First, she has to pick one of three variations and then the right color of the one she liked best. I remind her that Mommy is sick and we can’t take long. That helps her pick a green one.

She tells me she’s hungry while we’re paying for it. I was planning for us to stop somewhere to eat, but I’m not so sure about letting Savannah eat while I’m driving either. I’ll have to let Sydney make that call.

Savannah shows off her seahorse while I buckle her in her car seat.

“Babe, she’s hungry. What do you want to do?”

She groans. “As long as I don’t have to eat, I don’t care.”

When I get into my seat, I ask, “So, drive-thru? We can get you home sooner.”

“That’s fine. I’ll move to the back to sit with her and help her.” She gets out and sits in the backseat. “Let’s go, please.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Just really nauseous and feeling like I’m going to puke without puking, except those two times. I’m exhausted, too.”

“I’ll try to get us home fast.”

We stop at a nearby fast food place and Sydney rolls down the window as soon as the aroma of the food fills the car, a struggling frown on her face. We end up having to switch places because she swears if she has to help Savannah eat without her making a mess in the car, she’s going to make her own mess by throwing up from smelling and seeing the food. Once Savannah is done eating, I make her pull over and move to the passenger seat, so I can drive and she can sleep.

It seems to take forever to get home even with the light traffic on the interstate. Once we do, Sydney goes straight to bed to lie down and Savannah wants to watch The Little Mermaid, so we sit on the couch and do that. We have back-to-back home games this weekend and I’m tempted to call Logan about keeping Savannah since Sydney isn’t feeling well. I don’t want to be the one to make that call, though. I’m sure she’s been sick before and didn’t call anyone to watch our daughter. It just seems like that could be a situation where she’d think I was sweet for doing so or think I was an ass for thinking she couldn’t do it while being sick.

I don’t know. I’ll wait and see how she’s doing tomorrow, I guess.

Twenty minutes into the movie, Sydney comes straggling into the living room, already in her PJs, and cuddles up to me on her side with her knees drawn up and angled toward me.

“Hold me,” she whispers.

“Sure thing, gorgeous.”

“Me too, Daddy.” Savannah crawls into my lap, turning to lie with her head against Sydney’s thigh. Sydney chuckles and starts running her fingers through her hair.

“This is what I’ve always wanted,” Sydney says, lifting her head to look up at me. “Us together like this.”

“It is pretty nice.” Better than I could’ve imagined my life with Sydney being. I knew it would be damn good because of the simple fact that she’d be in it, but it’s even better. Add in Savannah and things are fantastic. They don’t have to be perfect, which is good because they aren’t and likely won’t ever be. I’ve never wanted perfection, though. All I’ve wanted is Sydney, just as she is—her “crazy” side, her tendency to use the silent treatment when she’s pissed, how she’ll call me a jackass or a dick when she doesn’t like what I’ve told her, fucking everything she does, really.

“Hey, what is your fiv

e-year plan?” I ask. “What if I get traded one day?”

Sydney snuggles closer. “Plan doesn’t matter. Let’s get married. As long as we’re together, then I’ll be happy. Where you go, we’ll go.”

“Promise?”