Blake’s arm tightens around me. “A great team.”
We continue through the aquarium, and when we reach the croc lair, Tinsley squirms on his shoulders.
“Down, please,” she says, patting his head.
He laughs and lowers her to the ground. Once she’s back on her feet, she runs towards the exhibit.
“Having fun?” he asks when he straightens.
I glance over at Tinsley, seeing she’s completely captivated by the crocodiles, and reach up to press a kiss to his lips. “Thank you.”
His hands grip my hips, and he squeezes. “I’d do anything to see those smiles on your faces.”
After stopping for a snack at the café, we finally reach the turtle exhibition, and Blake settles a protective hand on Tinsley’s back as she leans over to watch them slowly glide through the water.
“They’re so cool,” she breathes.
“The coolest,” he agrees.
“I’m going to call that one Shelly,” she says, pointing. “What’s that one’s name?”
“Uh…” Blake looks at me, a slightly panicked look on his face. “Donatello?”
I snort a laugh when Tinsley frowns. “That’s a weird name for a turtle.”
“What about Nibbles?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.
She nods. “Much better.”
We hang out with the turtles until it’s almost closing time, then rush through the rest of the exhibits. When we reach the store, Tinsley looks up at me with a pleading look. “Can I get something? Please Mama?”
“One thing,” I tell her. “But you only have five minutes before they close.”
Blake chuckles as she beelines straight for the turtle section. “Shocker.”
She crouches in front of a shelf of glass figurines no bigger than my thumb. Picking through them, she selects a purple one and a yellow one and places them apart from the others. She stares at them for a moment before glancing over her shoulder at us.
“Blake? What’s your favourite colour?”
A look of surprise crosses his face. “Green. Why?”
She studies the collection in front of her before selecting a lime green turtle and placing it with the other two.
I check my watch and see it’s two minutes until closing time. “Come on, princess. You need to choose.”
“They’re all our favourite colours,” she muses, fingering each of the figurines in turn. “Mine.” The yellow turtle. “Mama’s.” The purple. “Blake’s.” The green.
My heart swells as she lingers on the green one.
“Why don’t you get all three,” I say, my throat thick with emotion.
Her eyes widen. “Really?”
“Really.”
As we exit into the crisp evening air, Tinsley clutches the small paper bag to her chest.
“This was the best day ever,” she declares when we reach the car. “Thanks, Blake.”
