It’s a lame excuse to leave as he beelines for an escape without looking back. Next time, he’ll be brave. If there is a next time.
* * *
“I found this in the pantry. It’s not cocoa butter, but it could work the same. The book says you’re supposed to rub it on your belly.” He proudly places a jar of coconut oil on the coffee table as if he hunted it himself out in the wild.
Emma is in bed, and now seems the perfect time to bring up the importance of proper skincare.
Addison uncaps it. “Smells good. What does it do?”
“Prevents stretch marks, prevents pain from tender skin, overall sense of well-being.”
“Overall sense of well-being, huh?”
“You think this is stupid,” he flops onto the sofa beside her. “Sorry, I’m going overboard.”
She takes a dime-sized dollop of coconut oil and slathers it across her still unchanged stomach, her voice gentle. “I like that you care enough to think about these things and to read those books like it’s important.”
“It is important. I know all the cocoa butter and Mozart left in the world isn’t going to make up for the fact that we live in the apocalypse.”
“But it’s something we can control. I get it, I do.” She goes quiet for a moment. “I’m really happy you agreed to stay here.”
“I actually wanted to ask you the same thing. I just chickened out.”
“You did?”
He nods.
She smiles. “We still have to go back and get the cat and the goats, and you’re right about keeping a food stash there just in case. Can’t have all our eggs in one basket. Speaking of eggs, I’m starving.”
“Want some crackers?”
She shivers. “No. Never again. Something sweet.”
“The books say sugar can stunt the peanut’s development.”
Her eyes narrow.
“Okay. Sugar. Got it. Hold on.” He rushes into the kitchen, grabs two expired candy bars, and hands her one like a gift.
“Thank you.” She rips into the package, taking a bite with a sinful hum. “You know what I craved when I was pregnant with Emma? Peanut butter. I had to hoard it because it was coveted back home. We’d get it from town, and it was a luxury to spendthe money we did have on it. I had a good six jars by the end, all half-eaten.”
She tells him this unbothered, even smiling like it’s a fond memory. He’d have bought her all the peanut butter she wanted, and she wouldn’t have needed to hide it.
“I wonder if they made peanut butter cheesecake?” she asks, remembering his favorite dessert.
“They definitely did.”
She pauses, squinting at his face before reaching out toward him.
He pulls back without thinking and gives himself a mental kick for that reaction. All he wants is to be closer to her, and here he is flinching away on reflex for no good reason.
“Relax,” she whispers. “You’ve got chocolate on your lips.”
He forces himself still while she wipes a dollop of sugar from the corner of his mouth, holds his stare, and sucks it right off that digit in a way that feels obscene.
His brain short-circuits, and he’s well on his way to hardening in his pants.
“Know what else the books say?” she asks.
