Kayla brightens up the second she sees it, even as she mutters under her breath about her husband overplanning and overworrying over everything.
“Now this,” Stan says, slapping the roof of the limo, “is traveling in style.”
Kayla scoffs. “You’ve been spoiled your entire life. When did you ever travel in something that wasn’t expensive?”
“Try sailing with a murderer loose,” Stan says. “Really humblesyou.”
“You’refine, and it was for like, a week,” she replies. “Relax.”
“Atraumaticweek,” he corrects. “People lostorgans, Kaye.”
“That happens here too,” she says breezily. “We just don’t advertise it.”
We pile into the limo. The interior’s warm, leather seats heated. I take the seat across from Em so I can keep an eye on her. She’s still wrapped in the blanket Kayla gave her. Her posture’s tense, but she’s upright, looking out the window as the city rolls by.
Darkhaven passes in streaks of stone and glass. Old buildings shoulder up against newer ones. Gray slush on the pavement reflects streetlights, all green while we pass them. People walk fast, heads down, coats pulled tight. The city’s awake, even if it feels dead.
The ride’s silent for a stretch, until Kayla peers through the partition. “Driver,” she says, “we’re making a pit stop.”
Stan squints at her. “You can’t kick me out. I’m family.”
“Tempting as that is,” Kayla says with a smirk. “We’re taking a detour for burgers and ice cream.”
After a drive-thru run, Kayla’s balancing a burger in one hand and a vanilla cone between her thighs, calmly plucking pickle slices from the bun and dipping them straight into the ice cream.
Stan watches in horrified silence.
She takes a bite and talks. “Keep staring and I’ll dip the bun too.”
He reaches for her fries. She smacks his hand away. He reaches again and steals two.
I unwrap my sandwich and tear it in half, holding it out to Em. She hesitates, fingers gripping the blanket around her shoulders, but she takes the half from me.
Our fingers brush. Electricity passes from her touch. Must be static from the blanket she’s still holding around her.
She takes a small bite, chews slowly, then takes another. Hershoulders drop a bit. I think Idris would be proud.
My gaze goes to Kayla kicking Stan away from her fries. “I told you to order your own!”
“You’re the one desecrating ice cream!” Stan shouts back.
My eyes go skyward, looking past the glass roof. Guess Kayla and Em have something in common. Maybe Idris knew more than he let on. He planned for this situation well.
Stan groans. “Wow,” he says. “Whatever happened tosharing is caring?”
“That’s the thing.” Kayla preens. “I don’t care.”
Stan’s jaw drops just as she finishes her burger, and licks ice cream from her fingers, while the limo turns onto a quieter road.
“Alright,” Kayla says, settling back into her seat. “We’re a few blocks from home, so it’s time to catch you all up.”
Stan straightens. “Always down for hot goss.”
She and I shoot him the same look. Kayla’s is scathing. Mine’s more resigned. Em tilts her head at Stan and Kayla, looking keen with questions behind her glasses.
While Stan jokes suggestively about how he’s “always prepared to take in hot things,” Em reaches toward the champagne bottle tucked into the ice box. Stan intercepts it, swapping it for a cold soda in one smooth move.
Em owlishly blinks, then accepts the soda. Stan pops open the champagne for himself and takes over the armrest between him and Kayla.
