by Vera Roberts
“With you by my side, I’m ready for anything.” Sydney smiled. “Are you ready for the new season, husband?”
“I am,” Dean leaned over and kissed her, “I already won the best prize right here. Better than any Stanley Cup.”
Sydney picked up her cell phone and saw the message she’d been waiting for. “Oh goody gumdrops,” she got up and motioned Dean to get up as well, “let’s go. I want to show you something.”
“Show me something?” Dean asked. “What is it?”
Sydney sweetly smiled. “You’ll see.”
~~~~~
Whenever Sydney wanted to blindfold Dean, he was always game because it meant she was about to pull some freaky-deaky sexual deviant nasty on him. He had to put all sexual fantasies aside when Sydney put him in a car and drove him a distance somewhere.
Once they parked, Sydney helped Dean out of the truck and held onto him as he carefully walked a few steps. “And we’re here.” She beamed. “Are you ready?”
“Um, I guess so,” he shrugged, “where are we?”
“We’re home,” she removed his blindfold as Dean’s youth hockey team cheered for him. “Welcome to the Gavin Winchester Ice Skating Rink.”
Dean bit his lips as he blinked back tears. He looked around and saw his mother, Melissa, and Chris, as they appeared with a camera crew and reporters. “You did this for me?”
“I made some calls and Ian pulled some strings for me,” Sydney hugged her husband, “and I know how much your father meant to you and how influential he was in your life. I thought this was a great way to honor him.”
“This is the most amazing way to honor my dad!” Dean wiped tears from his eyes. He cupped Sydney’s face in his hands and kissed her. “Sometimes I wonder what I ever did to get so lucky with you.”
“I feel the same way, too, babe.” She smiled.
Dean grabbed Sydney’s hand as they met with his hockey team. “Let’s go ice skating now.”
“Ice skating?” Sydney questioned as they began walking towards the new rink. “No, I didn’t say anything about ice skating.”
“You need to learn how to ice skate, Syd.” Dean insisted.
“I’m a painter, not an ice skater, Dean.” She replied.
“You can be both,” he replied.
“No, I can’t because I won’t be.” She replied. “You’re the hockey player, I’m the painter. That’s what we agreed on, remember?”
“I don’t remember saying that in my vows,” Dean smiled.
“We did. Somewhere between ‘For Better and For Worse’ and ‘Til Death Do Us Part.’” Sydney nodded. “It said, ‘Thou Shall Not Make Wife Do Any Skating of Any Kind.’”
The End
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