A request combined with a little sequel to can we always be this close?
Mother's Day weekend is everything Travis could have wanted. As busy as life can get and as frustratingly hectic, there was nothing more important than making time for family. The instances where they were able to be together in one room seemed few and far between so when the opportunity presented itself, he jumped on it.
Luckily, Taylor was also really big on family, and she adored his. The feeling was entirely mutual. They'd welcomed her into the fold with open arms, and he couldn't help but practically burst with pride with how much they had all come to adore her.
Particularly the girls. She had won them over instantly from the first day she'd been introduced. Wyatt, the boldest, had asked her questions, curious and animated and Taylor responded in kind. He'd clocked the easy way she had with kids from the get-go, the way she'd listened carefully when they spoke, got down on their level, same as he tended to do, asked them thoughtful, interested questions of her own. Even Bennett, dubbed by her parents as "consistently suspicious" had warmed up easily and by the time it was time to leave on that Easter evening, she was curled up in Tay's arms, one thumb popped in her mouth.
That was his girl...kind and considerate, forever making everyone around her feel comfortable, no matter who it happened to be. He loved that about her; it could have very well been the opposite, but her keen sense of self-awareness had her expertly diffusing anything that would led to the other person feeling awkward in any way. She didn't have to do it, but it was in her nature.
They'd been lying relatively low, collectively burned out by the non-stop whirlwind their lives were over the past year, and a half and he loved every minute, loved having Taylor all to himself, though, it was hard to watch her go through some of the turmoil associated with that downtime. By the time they flew to Philly for Mother's Day brunch (and to celebrate the milestone of meeting one Finnley Anne for the first time), the tide had turned a bit, and they were both ready to poke their heads out more.
Tay had thoroughly enjoyed herself; in her element being around people, specifically people who loved her and who she loved right back. She'd had a glow around her, and he was content to bask in the easy, funny banter with her and his family. It felt good, grounded and by the time they'd flown back to New York, it was with full hearts. They'd spent time with Andrea just a couple of days before, celebrating early. It was the cap of a very restful few months, and he couldn't really ask for more.
"Trav?"
The bed shifts and he groans. It has to be early morning because a quick surveying of the room tells him the sun isn't even up yet.
"Travis."
The voice sounds vaguely like Tay's but it's coming from at the end of a tunnel and he's fairly certain he's dreaming.
"Mmm," he murmurs. His nose brushes against the pillow and then across her shoulder, her familiar scent hitting his nostrils.
Shit.
He pulls himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Blearily, he can make out Taylor in the dark next to him, sitting up and clutching her stomach, chin drawn inward. She's taking small, shaky breaths and he puts his hand on her lower back, digging gently into the thin fabric of her (well, his) t-shirt.
"Baby, you're nauseous, huh?"
She turns, just enough to grip his other hand. "Yeah. Hit me like a ton of bricks."
The first time she'd gotten a wild stomach flu, he'd found her on the floor of his en suite bathroom, white as a sheet, her cheek pressed flush against the tile. It was then he learned just how much she hated throwing up, would do just about anything but stand on her head to prevent it from happening. At first, he hadn't really understood because you really did feel better once you got it over with, but he had come to realize that it was more the fear of puking in front of someone.
