The way it always was.
The way it always would be.
He stopped at the end by his wife and put the cooler down. She instantly flipped the top open. Creed bent and rolled up his jeans.
When he got them up, he settled at the end of the pier with Sylvie, his feet in the water and he saw hers were covered to her ankles, her watery toes painted a bright pink, the same color that was on her nails. His feet were covered up to the tops of his calves.
She handed him a frozen Snickers bar, he took it and she tore into hers.
Pregnant, his woman could eat. He’d never seen anything like it. She consumed everything in sight.
She also didn’t slow down and she was nourishing two so she needed a lot of energy.
Then again, not pregnant, his woman could eat.
She just ate like she lived, consuming life and enjoying the f**k out of it.
It was one of the myriad reasons he loved her.
Creed ripped open his candy bar and slid his arm along Sylvie’s shoulders.
She leaned into him, head to his shoulder and bit hard into her Snickers.
Creed followed suit and his eyes moved to the lake.
They were back in Kentucky because they told the kids a little of their history and Kara and Brand were curious about where their Dad came from, something, for obvious reasons, he had never shared much about. Something, because of this, they’d always been curious about.
Now they were in the lake that, since they could cogitate, they’d seen on their father’s back.
Creed didn’t want to come and Sylvie kept her mouth shut even though he knew she didn’t want to come either. She did this so he wouldn’t put his foot down and not come and therefore not give this to his kids.
Sitting there, eating a frozen Snickers bar, holding his pregnant Sylvie on the spot where he gave her her first green, practically on the spot where she gave him her virginity, his three kids splashing around him, he wondered why the f**k they hadn’t come sooner.
“We need a dog,” Sylvie said through frozen chocolate, caramel, nuts and nougat.
She had said this repeatedly since approximately seventeen hours after moving into his house in Phoenix.
“Gun would hate a dog,” he replied, having said this repeatedly since approximately seventeen hours after she moved into his house in Phoenix.
“You spoil that cat like she was your child,” Sylvie bitched and bit off another hunk of candy bar.
“Does she depend on me to eat?” he asked.
“Creed.”
That was all she said.
That meant yes.
“Does she depend on me to keep a roof over her head?”
“Jesus,” she muttered.
“Does she depend on me for affection?”
“Partially. She also depends on me, Kara, Brand and now Jesse,” Sylvie returned.
Creed ignored that.