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I cross the room to sit in the chair next to her bed. I take her hand in mine, wishing my brother could be here. Today would be so different if he were. “Are you sure, Lizzy? You know we’ll help and—”
The tears are as sudden as her interruption. “I can’t, Scott. Not without Roger. And we both know I’m not in any shape to take care of someone else when you and Sylvia have been taking care of me. If I can’t take care of myself, I can’t take care of them. Roger would want this.”
She had me until that last part. It seems like such an odd thing to say.
“He would want what’s best for them,” she adds. “Please.”
“Okay. But if you change your mind—”
“I won’t.” She winces as she turns on her side away from me. “You can go now.”
Fuck. She’s already withdrawing from us again. With a deep breath, I stand and return to Sylvia. Our priority is those two beautiful girls and then helping Lizzy heal. We’ll hold off on the adoption papers until we see what happens with Lizzy.
“Well?” Sylvia says when she sees me.
“Let’s think of some names and move forward with caution.”
“I like Stephanie and Stella.”
I laugh. “You already decided without me?”
She takes my hand and leans against me. “Those are my suggestions.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “Our names start with S and those were names on my girls list that started with S that I liked.”
That’s right. Sylvia used to keep two lists, one for boys and one for girls, and she had names she liked for each letter of the alphabet. The list is currently buried in the bottom of her nightstand drawer because that’s something she just can’t throw away.
“I think those will be perfect.”
Sylvia’s chest starts to labor. “Don’t let me get too attached, Scott.”
“They’re family either way, Sylvie. You can’t love them too much, and if she changes her mind, we still get to see them. We’ll be parents one day, I promise. Let’s focus on making sure we take care of them and give them a bunch of love. They deserve that whether we’re their parents or their aunt and uncle.”
Turns out, Sylvia worried for nothing. Three months later, at Lizzy’s demand, we started the process of adopting our girls.
Mmm. This is the life. A strong arm pulls me even tighter against a fit body, one of the first signs he’s awake. Depending on how we’re lying depends on which routine he follows. Next, his nose moves back and forth over the back of my neck as he inhales the scent of my shampoo. Then, there’s a kiss right between my shoulder blades. His scratchy, sleepy voice murmurs, “Sylvie?”
“I’m awake.”
“I love you.” That’s the final part of his routine. First thing every morning, he tells me he loves me.
“Love you too, Scott.”
“We should get up.”
“No. Hold me a little longer.”
He’s quiet for a moment while his arm tries to pull me even closer. “You okay?”
It’s not often I make that particular request, especially not first thing in the morning. “Just want to enjoy you while I can.” Preseason will start very soon and that means my husband will be traveling. I have no idea why, but I’ve been dreading it lately. I don’t want him to go. It’s absolutely nuts because he loves what he does and I love that he does it. But for some reason, I’m not feeling quite right this season.
“You know you’ll still be able to enjoy me when the season starts.” Scott rolls me over to face him. “What’s going on, Sylvia? You’ve been acting funny.”
I frown. “Me wanting to spend time with my husband is me acting funny? Are you fucking kidding me?”
He runs his hand down my arm in an effort to soothe me, but I pull away. He knows I hate that. When I’m on the verge of getting pissed off, the last thing he should do is try to calm me down. It throws gasoline on the fire. “What I mean is that something is off. I know it. You know it. I want to know what the fuck it is. Don’t get pissed at me for trying to figure this out.”
Ugh. “Don’t get your bossy, I’m the man, let me fix this tone out. You know I don’t like it.” Why some girls like to be bossed around or have their men take over, I don’t know. Even though I know that Scott finds subtle ways to do this, if it’s blatantly clear, I’ll rebel faster than he can take a breath.
Scott sighs and rolls onto his back to stare at the ceiling. That’s when I feel bad. The sigh is always a sign of defeat. A sign that means I haven’t necessarily overreacted, but I’m being more difficult than he currently wants to deal with. It always comes quicker in the morning.
