Part Thirty-two
Sydney, Michael, Jack, and Emily sit on the floor of the sitting room of their hotel suite that night; Emily munches away on her Happy Meal while Jack slurps his Coke and Sydney eats her pasta. Michael sits behind Sydney, rubbing her shoulders and back, and she closes her eyes contentedly, pushing her plate away as she leans against him.
"You don't want more?" he asks.
"I couldn't eat another bite," she assures him, forking up a bite and feeding it to him.
"Mmm," he says. He eats the pasta, then kisses her soundly.
"I can't believe we're lounging around like this in our clothes," she sighs. "Em, darling, are you almost done? Are you ready to put your jammies on?"
"With the fishies?" Emily sounds so excited that Sydney can't help but long for the days when a Happy Meal and getting to sleep in her favorite pajamas erased all the bad that had happened in a day-- though she must admit that a couple of hours with Michael and the kids does almost the same for her now.
"With the fishies," Sydney confirms. Michael goes to work getting rid of the fast food wrappers while Sydney finds Emily's pajamas and takes her to the bathroom to change and brush her teeth.
By the time they make their way to the room Emily is sharing with Jack, Jack is already in bed, and Michael is asking him, "Hey, buddy, were you there when Nickā¦upset Emily?"
"Yeah."
"Did what he said bother you, too?"
"Nah," Jack says, shaking his head. "Nick's an idiot."
"Yes, he is," Michael agrees.
"Michael!" Sydney gasps, but she barely conceals a smile. "He's not an idiot, Jack," she tells her son, as Emily runs and hurls herself onto the bed. "He said an idiotic thing because he feels bad about his dad, and that's different."
"He's still mean," Jack counters.
Emily sits up, appraising her parents seriously. "Did Nick's daddy leave a-cause Nick was bad?"
"No, sweetie," Sydney assures her, brushing her hair back from her face. "He left because of things that happened between him and Nick's mommy."
Emily considers this. "So if you're good, Mommy, then Daddy won't leave?"
Sydney lets out a burst of laughter. "Daddy and I both have to be good. To each other."
"Oh." A troubled frown crosses Emily's little face. "I don't know what that means."
Michael smiles. "It means that your mommy and I love each other very much and you're never getting rid of either of us."
"Oh!" Emily beams. "Good. I love you, Daddy."
"Love you, too." Both Sydney and Michael exchange kisses and I love yous with Jack and Emily, then they return to the sitting room, where Grace's playpen is set up. Their youngest daughter dozes peacefully; Sydney and Michael gaze down at her for a moment.
"Three sleeping children," Michael murmurs. "What are we going to do now?"
"Mmm," Sydney says, looping her arms around Michael's waist. "I believe you said something about a surprise?"
He smiles. "This way, my dear," he says, taking her hand and leading her to their room. "Sit down," he instructs, guiding her to sit on the bed.
"Michael, what--"
"Shh," he interrupts, kissing her lightly. He moves to the closet and reappears a moment later with a gift-wrapped box, one large enough to hold a winter coat.
"Michael," Sydney gasps. "How did you get that on the plane without me knowing it?"
"I didn't. I packed what's inside, and wrapped it this afternoon while you were napping."
"You did a nice job," she says, admiring the wrapping. "Mike, you didn't have to get me a present."
"Does that mean you don't want it?"
"Of course not," she says, so quickly they both laugh.
"Open it," he encourages.
She obliges, and gasps when she sees the contents. The box is filled with baby things-- a yellow receiving blanket, sleepers to fit a newborn, a book with ideas for decorating a nursery. She pulls out a terry cloth crib toy shaped like a duck; when she pulls the cord at the bottom, it plays a lullaby. "Michael," she says tearfully. "It's adorable, wonderful, all of it."
"Keep looking," he encourages. "You haven't seen everything."
She continues sifting through the box and finds a baby book, a beautiful silver picture frame with the word "Baby" engraved across the bottom, and a silver rattle, which she sees is also engraved. "To the newest little Vaughn," she reads in a whisper. "Love Mom, Dad, Jack, Emily, and Grace." She feels a lump rise in her throat. "Michael." Finding herself unable to say anything else, she simply throws her arms around his neck.
"You like it?"
"Oh, Michael, I love it. I love everything," she says, squeezing him tight. "But why-- I mean, it's so soon, and--"
"Well, I started buying things the day after you told me you were pregnant-- can you believe that was only, what, two weeks ago? Less? The day after you took the pregnancy test, when you were--"
"Totally freaking out," Sydney finishes, smiling ruefully. "It's okay, you can say it."
"You were worried and overwhelmed, which was completely understandable," Michael corrects.
Sydney rolls her eyes. "Darling, I have to tell you, I'm still feeling more than a little worried and overwhelmed."
"I know." Michael nods seriously. "And I know that being pregnant isn't easy, or fun."
"Actually, you have no idea," Sydney says with a half-smile.
"Well, I can imagine," he corrects himself, reaching out to touch her stomach. "But with Jack, Emily, and Grace, you were always so excited planning for the new baby that I don't think you minded so much. And I know this time is different," he says in a rush, before she can say anything. "I know we didn't plan for little Sam or Maggie, and I know we just did all of this with Grace-- decorating the nursery, shopping, getting ready-- but I still want this to be a really wonderful time. You deserve it, and so does the baby. You said it really well when we were at Kerri's, how we would have to make sure that Grace and all of our children feel special. And I know that buying some clothes and toys and having a rattle engraved doesn't begin to prepare us for another child, but--"
"But it helps us get excited, and helps us remember all of the wonderful things about having a baby, instead of just focusing on the hard parts," Sydney finishes, tears glistening in her eyes. "Thank you so much, Michael. This was very sweet."
"I-- know sometimes you must get frustrated with me, like the night you told me, and you were so--"
"Freaked out," Sydney supplies.
"Whatever," Michael rolls his eyes. "And I was already picking out names and mentally painting the nursery--"
"That was very sweet," Sydney assures him. "I just couldn't exactly appreciate it just then."
"Well, I just wanted to let you know, that even if I don't seem very sensitive sometimes, I really do want to make this easier for you. Anything you want or need, just name it."
Sydney can't ever remember feeling so touched. She wonders what she ever did to deserve this wonderful man. "I can't believe you dragged all of this stuff to LA and managed to hide it from me for almost two days."
"I had a feeling you might need a little pick-me-up while we were here," Michael says with a slight smile. "I wished that I had wrapped it earlier, so I could have given it to you last night after we got back from your father's."
"Tonight was better," Sydney says.
"Tonight was better," he agrees.
She can't think of anything better to say than, "I love you." She captures his lips in a kiss; when she tries to deepen it, he pulls away. "Michael--"
"Presents first," he says with a smile. "Then thank you."
"But you already gave me presents," she says, bewildered.
"One more." He moves to the closet again and emerges with another, smaller box.
"You're going to spoil me rotten," she chides, shaking her head.
"Nothing you don't deserve," he responds, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Open it."
She tears open the box and pulls out a satiny nightgown in an absolutely gorgeous shade of blue. "I don't own anything this color," she muses, fingering the expensive fabric.
"I know," he says, pushing her hair aside to plant kisses on her neck. "It's exquisite, isn't it? I think it'll look beautiful on you."
"Mmm, I get it," she breathes, gasping as he kisses a sensitive spot on her collarbone. "The other presents were a bribe to get me into this."
"Not at all," he says smoothly, unfastening the zipper of her dress. "I bought it to remind you how amazing and sexy you are, and how wild you drive your husband."
"Do I?" she asks playfully, sucking lightly on the cleft in his chin. "Because my husband drives me pretty wild, too."
"Does he?"
"Absolutely." She pushes him away rather roughly, so that he falls back on the bed. He looks up at her, eyes full of surprise. And something else.
"So, Mr. Vaughn," she purrs, a challenge in her eyes. "Are you ready to receive your proper thank you?"
