Chris POV
I'm woken up by soft whimpering. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts. It's not Daphne that I hear, she's sleeping soundly, head in the crook of my neck. It's not Dodger who is curled up asleep. But then I realize it's Milo's crying that I hear coming through the baby monitor next to our bed. Daphne hears it as well and begins to move off me, tossing the covers away.
"I've got him," I whisper as I place the covers back over her, giving her a kiss on her forehead. While putting on pajama pants I catch a glimpse of the clock as it reads 2 AM. I'm careful not to disrupt Dodger who is fast asleep at the foot of our bed.
We had placed Milo's bassinet in what we hope will eventually become a nursery. As I walk past the kitchen I glance down on the counter at the list of times for his feedings and see that he's very close to another and realize that's probably why he's crying.
Upon opening the door I begin my rhythmic shushing until I reach him. "Hey little buddy. Ya hungry? Hmm?" I first decide he needs a diaper change and set out to complete that before heading into the kitchen with him to heat up his bottle. Luckily I'm pretty good at maneuvering things with just one hand as the little man occupying my left arm watches intently as I move around the kitchen.
Once we are set, I head back into the room and sit in the rocker that use to belong to my own father. Milo appears grateful when I bring the bottle to his mouth, suckling quickly.
I find myself humming softly as he finishes off his bottle and I wrap him up again. I take a few extra minutes to rock him back to sleep, letting my mind wander to having this experience with my own child, at some point. The thought warms me from the inside.
Daphne POV
"Have you seen my Panthers hoodie?" I call out from our bedroom as I hear Chris and Dodger come in from the backyard.
"Did you check the hall closet?" he asks.
"Not yet." I'm running around between our bedroom and bathroom, frantically realizing several items I had forgotten to pack.
"Would this be what you're searching for, ma'am," my hunk of a husband says walking into our room holding up the red hoodie.
"My hero," I say as I reach out to take it. He pulls it out of my reach. "I believe there is something you're forgetting. A method of payment for my skills, perhaps?" I rise on the tips of my toes to give him a peck on the lips. "Better?" I ask. "It'll do for now," he responds with a wink.
A knock on the door interrupts our back and forth. "It's open," Chris calls out. Hazel and Oliver walk through, looking refreshed.
"How'd it go?" Hazel asks as she heads straight for the bassinet we'd moved into the living room this morning.
"It went great! He got up three times during the night and was wide awake at 6," I tell them both. "But, better yet, it looks like you both got some much needed rest yourselves."
Oliver speaks up this time. "A glorious, uninterrupted, twelve hours of sleep. We were out at eight last night," he laughs. "And thanks again to both of you we also enjoyed a nice, hot breakfast before coming over."
"Glad we could be of service," Chris says. "I wouldn't mind making it a regular thing, maybe a couple times a month at least, assuming my schedule allows it."
I look back at this amazing husband of mine, knowing full well that he is just as ready as I am to have our own little family, and yet still feel my stomach flip at his sweet words. He glances at me to see my reaction. "I'm in, just tell us when."
"That's so sweet of y'all, and I'm sure we'll take you up on it," Hazel laughs out as she lifts Milo out of the bassinet. "Good morning, sweetie. Were you good for Aunt D and Uncle Chris? Hmm... No blowouts or projectile vomiting?"
"He started it," Chris calls out with a chuckle. "No, he was really good, no issues at all."
Oliver picks up the diaper bag and motions back towards the front door. "We should be going so you guys can head out. Hopefully y'all don't get stuck in too much traffic."
"We're in no rush, but I do still have to finish packing," I admit.
"That doesn't surprise me," Oliver quips back, earning him narrowed eyes from both myself and his wife.
I go to give one more kiss to my nephew before they leave. "See you soon, little man."
Chris follows me. "Keep your old man in line, Milo." I love the banter between Chris and my brothers, thankful that it's their way of showing that they like each other. "Dodge? You ready bubba?" Dodger runs out of our bedroom and beats Oliver and Hazel to the door. "Thanks for keeping an eye on him while we're gone."
"No worries. Be safe guys. Love you both," Oliver calls out over his shoulder as the three exit towards their car with Dodger leading the way.
I hurry off back into our bedroom, trying to double check the mental checklist that sits in my head. I should've written it out, but just never found the time. Teaching this week had been a bit more exhausting than normal, kids and teachers alike ready for the fall break. Several nights I came home and fell asleep right after dinner.
Chris saunters back into the room, taking up residence on the edge of the bed, watching me flit about. "Do you have everything you need?" I ask him from the bathroom, continuing to toss things into the toiletry bag.
"If I don't, I'm sure we'll be able to grab it once we get there." His eyes follow my every move, as if he's trying to distinguish something.
I breeze past him on my way to drop the toiletry bag into the suitcase. He grabs my arm and pulls me down onto his lap. Without a second thought my arms find their home around his neck, one hand in his hair. "Something about you makes you look exceptionally gorgeous today," he tells me before bringing his lips to mine. I could make a joke, act like I take offense to the compliment by mentioning that I must not be gorgeous to him every day, but decide against it, instead losing myself in this impromptu make out session.
After a few moments, I open my eyes to see the time on the clock. Reluctantly I push myself back to standing, only to see Chris looking disappointed. "If we don't go now, we'll miss our dinner reservations."
"As you wish," he concedes to my urging, standing up and zipping the suitcase closed. I move around the house making sure nothing has been left on that should be off before making my way through the garage to the truck.
Chris stands beside my door, holding it open for me. "Your carriage awaits," he says, offering me his hand to help me climb in.
"We're so cheesy," I tease as I take his hand.
"It's one of the things I love most about us," he confides with a smile that reaches his eyes.
~~~~~
A drive that should only take around three hours has proven to be longer due to a couple of accidents along the way. I can tell each time we come across one that Chris tenses up. It amazes me how he can look at a situation and assess it even from a distance.
"Ya know," I start, "I'm honestly surprised we're even getting to have this trip. I was sure that Meridian would deny it."
Chris stiffens at my mention of Meridian. "It wasn't for lack of him trying. I know you wanted to go at Christmas but those weeks were already claimed."
"Do you think you'll ever go back to being just a medic?" This could lead to a very touchy situation, which I don't want, but we are married and I'd like to be kept in the loop. I'm taking this opportunity to try and catch up with him since I've not gotten a whole lot of one on one time with him lately.
He moves his head around, as if to say he's unsure. "As long as Meridian is there, I don't think I will. Don't get me wrong. I enjoy being a firefighter, it's what I started out as. But, there's something about the medic side that gives me a bigger sense of fulfilment if that makes sense."
"I can understand that." My gaze goes back to the window, noticing we're coming up on our exit. "Exit 67 is the one we need, towards Epcot."
Chris moves the truck all the way into the right lane. Five minutes later we're driving under the Walt Disney World sign, headed towards Port Orleans Riverside, our home for the next few days.
Check in takes no time at all, but once we get to the room I realize we have exactly thirty minutes to make our reservation at Disney Springs. We decide to drive ourselves rather than try and wait for a bus.
Luckily we make our reservation even though we're five minutes late. It's nothing upscale or fancy, but now a days it seems you have to have a reservation for everything at Disney.
"So, do we have any 'ground rules' for this trip?" I ask Chris after the waiter leaves with our food orders.
"That's an interesting question, but I think it's not a bad idea. I say no talk about the station or anything else that topic encompasses," he says almost pleadingly.
"I can manage that. Obviously it starts now though since I already broke that one on the way down here." He nods. "Let's see, I say no talk of work at all, yours or mine."
"That works too."
"We have fun, let ourselves be young again," I offer up.
"You're not exactly old, Daph," he laughs out at me.
"I know, but the last year has made me forget what it feels like to truly be carefree," I admit while lifting my drink to my lips, trying to hide my sadness over the thought.
"I guess I've been failing in that department," he says as he reaches his hand across the table.
"No, you haven't. It's a me thing." I rest my hand reassuringly on his own. He doesn't quite seem convinced since he won't look directly at me. I move out of my seat across from him, only to slide into the booth next to him. He looks sad, almost a sense of defeat. "This isn't how this is suppose to go," I remind him. "If we're being young and carefree then there's no room for sadness, Chris. It's the happiest place on Earth remember?"
Chris finally looks back at me. "I promised myself I'd only be the reason for your tears if they were happy ones. And, I know that hasn't been the case."
"Can I let you in on a secret?" I ask him, becoming secretive, leaning in closer to him.
"Sure," he says, puzzled by my request but leaning towards me, mirroring my actions.
"Most of my tears have nothing to do with you, but over frustrations with myself, things you have no control over," I remind him. "You bring me more smiles and laughter, and heart flutters, than any amount of tears."
"Do you really mean that?" He rests his hand on my thigh.
I affirm the question by resting my hand on his again. "You may have some control over certain aspects of my body's response," I smirk while seeing his eyes portray that tell tale sign that he's enjoying my statement. "But, no, my biggest frustrations are over things neither one of us has control over."
He seems happier with my answer now. "I love you, Daphne Evans, more than anything else in this world."