"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Two simple words, but for some reason they hit me hard coming from her. "No problem, Pink. Be back soon. Lock the door behind me."
The night air is cool against my face as I slide into my truck. I sit there for a minute, hands on the wheel, trying to process the surreal turn my life has taken. A couple of weeks ago, I was filling out divorce papers I couldn't bring myself to file. Now Wren's living in my house, wearing my clothes, and I'm making a middle-of-the-night ice cream run because of pregnancy cravings like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I pull out of the driveway and turn onto the empty street, streetlights casting pools of amber across the asphalt. Without really thinking about it, I hit the call button on my steering wheel.
Banks answers on the fourth ring, his voice rough with sleep. "Someone better be dying."
"I need advice."
"At—" There's a pause, presumably as he checks the time. "—one thirty in the morning? What could possibly?—"
"Wren's craving caramel ice cream. With potato chips on top."
A beat of silence, then a low chuckle. "So it begins."
"What begins?"
"The cravings, man. Clover had me driving across town in the middle of the night for specific donuts from that place on Burnside. Only those would do. Nothing else."
I merge onto the main road, the truck's headlights cutting through the darkness. "You didn't warn me about this part."
"Would it have made a difference?" His voice holds a knowing edge that irritates me.
"No," I admit, turning into the parking lot of the twenty-four-hour market. Its fluorescent lights make the nearly empty lot look clinical and strange. "But a heads-up would've been nice."
"So she's all moved in?" Banks asks, sounding more awake now. "How's that going?"
"It's..." I search for the right word, finding none that adequately captures the strange tension of having Wren in my space. "Fine. Weird. I don't know. It's only been a day."
"And you're already making middle of the night food runs. That's promising."
"It's not like that," I insist, parking near the entrance.It’s totally like that."I'm just trying to make this easier for her. For the baby."
"Uh-huh." His skepticism is palpable even through the phone. "Keep telling yourself that, man."
"I gotta go." I kill the engine. "Thanks for nothing."
"Hey, Kase?" His tone shifts, becoming more serious. "For what it's worth, I think you're doing the right thing. Trying to make this work with her."
I stare through the windshield at the empty store, at my reflection in the glass door. "Yeah, well. One day at a time."
"One day at a time," he agrees. "Good luck with the ice cream hunt."
I end the call and head into the store, nodding at the bored cashier. The place is deserted except for a couple of night shift workers stocking shelves. I find the ice cream section easily enough, scanning the varieties until I spot a couple of different caramels. I don’t know which ones she wants, so I grab them all, just in case.
In the chip aisle, I study the options. Regular, not ridged. I grab a family-size bag of plain potato chips, then on impulse, I add a bag of pretzels and one of those chocolate-covered ones too. Might as well cover all the bases.
The cashier doesn't even blink at my haul, just scans everything, yawns, and bags it up while I tap my card to pay. Ten minutes later, I'm heading back home.
Home. Where Wren is waiting.
In my t-shirt.
What’s she got on under it?
