Part Fourteen
Sydney wakes in the middle of the night and moves to snuggle closer to Michael. He's not there. She sits up drowsily, wondering if he's made a foray down to the computer in his office to check if any dream properties have shown up in Jamaica over the course of the last day. He hasn't. He stands at the window, staring out blankly into the darkness.
She'd asked what he and Eric had argued about that had gotten him so upset, but he'd said that he didn't want to talk about it, that he just wanted to go to sleep. She'd bit her lip as she'd felt him thrashing restlessly in the bed beside her. Eventually, sheer exhaustion had gotten the better of her-- chasing Jack and Em around Central Park is enough to wear out anyone-- and she'd drifted off; it is only now that she realizes that Michael hasn't slept a wink.
She creeps silently out of bed, moving to stand behind him. She wraps her arms around him from behind, slipping her hands under the front of his t-shirt to feel the hard, muscled flesh there. Even now, when she knows he is upset, she can't help but admire how beautiful he is, how lucky she is that he's hers. She kisses his shoulder through the fabric of his t-shirt.
It takes a moment for him to acknowledge her presence, and when he speaks, he doesn't say what she expects. "Do you know how happy I wake up most mornings, Sydney?"
She doesn't answer. Doesn't think he really wants her to.
"The first thing I see when I wake up every morning is this beautiful, sexy, wonderful woman who for some reason has agreed to wake up next to me every morning for the rest of my life, and she usually wakes up when I'm getting dressed and kind of drowsily asks me if I'm going to be late that night and tells me her plans for the day."
Sydney wraps her arms tighter around him, resting her head on his shoulder.
"Then-- and I don't know if you know that I do this-- I go and peek in on our babies. Jack's always somehow managed to make his way to the opposite end of the bed, his covers flung everywhere. I go in and cover him back up, and he always says, Thanks, Dad, without opening his eyes, and I'll bet if you asked him later in the day if he remembers me doing that, he wouldn't."
Sydney closes her eyes, transfixed by his words, the sound of his voice.
"Emmy, for all of her running around and crazy behavior during the day, is always sleeping like an angel, her covers pulled up to her chin. I'll bet all you have to do to make her bed is smooth out the blankets."
Sydney continues to listen silently, thinking that she has never loved anyone so much as she loves this man, right now, describing the way he checks up on their children in the morning.
"Grace is usually still sleeping when I check on her, too, but she always opens her eyes, just for a few seconds, when I stand over her crib, as if she knows I'm there, and she knows who I am."
"Of course she does," Sydney whispers. "She loves her daddy."
It is the first time she has spoken since approaching her husband, and he smiles at her over his shoulder. "Come here, baby."
She extracts her arms from beneath his t-shirt and he turns to face her, kissing her once, gently, before they switch positions, her in front of him, him with his arms around her waist. "Tell me about the rest of your day," she says.
"It's usually pretty great, too," he confesses. "I get to work every day at a job I enjoy, a job that allows me to provide for my family in a way I never even dreamed possible, and when I'm done, I go home to a sweet little girl who runs to greet me, and a serious, smart little boy, and a beautiful little baby, and their wonderful mother, who has been home chasing them around all day but still manages a smile and a kiss for me."
She turns to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. "Sounds like you're a very lucky man."
"I am," he confirms, returning her kiss. "And don't get me wrong, Syd, things are hardly perfect, I worry about all of you so much, but-- how could anyone not want my life? Or at least, how could anyone not understand why I love it?"
"Eric said something," she realizes.
"Eric is an ass," he says firmly, moving away from her and sagging down on the bed. "I know I haven't said much about his breakup with Kerri, Syd, because he's my friend and I didn't want to judge him, but God-- how could he do that? If he wanted to spend his life proving to the world that he can get pretty young twenty-something women to fuck him, fine, but why did he get married? Why did he pretend that what he wanted was a wife and a family?"
"Maybe he didn't know what he wanted," Sydney says quietly, folding her arms in front of her. "Maybe he did love Kerri, or believed he did, but he let all the money and attention go to his head."
"He doesn't even seem sorry, though," Michael shakes his head. "He acts like he's got it made, and that the only reason anyone would let themselves be trapped-- that's his word, not mine-- in a marriage is because they can't attract other women or because they've let their wife turn them into some kind of slave, or something."
"He's probably having second thoughts about what he did," Sydney says with a sigh, running her hand back through her hair. "And if he can talk himself into believing that someone like you, who is living the kind of life he left, is unhappy, or envious of him, then he can make himself feel better about what he's done. His worst fear is probably that he's made a mistake, and when you call all giddy about your children and your wife--"
"Then he knows that he did," Michael completes. "Good. I hope he's sorry as hell for what he did, and I hope Kerri marries Ben Strand and lives happily ever after."
Sydney bites her lower lip, looking away. "Now it seems like you want him to be unhappy to prove to yourself that everyone who turns their back on the kind of life you live is miserable. You can't worry about what Eric or anyone else needs to be happy, Mike. If you're happy with me and the kinds, and it sounded a minute ago like you are--"
"I am!" he interrupts.
They stand there in tense silence for a moment, then his expression softens. "Come here, sweetheart."
She moves to sit next to him on the bed. He puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to him. "Come on, baby," he whispers in her ear. "You can't tell me you don't hope to see Eric suffer for what he's done."
"Suffering is too good for Eric Weiss," she snaps. She pauses, considering her words. "And yes, part of that is probably for my own piece of mind, my own hope that anyone who does what he did will pay dearly. But mostly I just hate that he made Kerri so miserable."
"She's better off without him," Michael says comfortingly.
"I know," Sydney sighs, snuggling closer to him. "I hope she and Ben Strand are very happy."
"We'll find out soon enough," Michael reminds her. "We'll be in LA in less than a week. Syd, you've got to call her and get us invited to dinner with them."
"This fixation you have with Ben Strand is very strange," Sydney laughs.
"It's just too hilarious that that's who she's marrying," Michael responds, returning her laugh. "Seriously, Syd, if you knew the amount of shit I gave Eric about Ben Strand back in the day. Kerri dating Ben Strand makes me seriously feel like I'm back in college."
"Well, I'm curious about him, myself," Sydney admits. "I'll definitely call her." She climbs back under the covers, and Michael follows. "What do you want to do tomorrow, baby?"
"I don't know, I kind of just want to spend a quiet day at home," he says. "Watch TV and shoot hoops with Jack and maybe take the kids out for a pizza in the evening."
"Sounds good," Sydney agrees. "While you're keeping Jack occupied, though, I might take Em and maybe Grace and do some shopping, though, Em needs some new spring clothes, I swear she grows out of things as soon as I can get them home from the store."
"Oh, hey, maybe Jack and I'll go with you," Michael says, eyes growing wide with anticipation. "There are these basketball shoes I saw on TV the other day, and--"
"For you or Jack?" Sydney interrupts.
"Me," Michael admits sheepishly. "But I'm sure we can find something Jack likes, too."
"You're such a child," she tells him, but she softens the remark with a kiss. "Goodnight, Michael."
"Goodnight, Syd."
"Say goodnight to Sam," she instructs, slipping the covers down to give him easy access to her stomach.
"Or Maggie," he reminds her.
"Or Maggie," she agrees.
He lowers himself to kiss her stomach. "Goodnight, Sam or Maggie," he says. "Daddy loves you."
"I love you, Michael," Sydney sighs, raking her fingers through his hair.
"I love you, too, Syd," he says, moving back up to her eye level and kissing her. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, baby." She kisses him one more time, then rolls over on her side so he can spoon up against her.
Maybe not everyone would want their life. But she wouldn't trade it for anything.
