perfect.”
“Aren’t we stopping at Pak ‘n’ Save?” Hannah asked in surprise.
They’d finally left the beach, because the kids needed naps. She’d known how much Drew was enjoying this relaxed time, so rare in his busy life. He needed the chance to catch up with his old mates, and she hadn’t wanted to break up the party, even though she’d have been more than ready to leave an hour earlier.
Now Drew had failed to indicate for the turn, and she sighed. “I thought we needed ice.”
Drew shot her a glance across the car. “Thought I’d come back for it once we’ve got the kids down. And you too.”
“I’m not that fragile.” She heard the tension in her voice, took a breath. “We’re here. It’ll take fifteen minutes, and forty-five by the time you make a separate trip. We need a few other things anyway. Too many people in the house.”
Another look, but he turned without a word at the next corner, began the series of quick lefts that would take him back to the supermarket. “Thought it might be too much for you,” he finally said. “We could’ve had Mako and Kristen stay at the hotel with the others. Still can, for that matter. You don’t have to say it, if that’s what you’re worried about. I will.”
“I don’t mind.” She shifted her position and sighed again.
“Back aching?” he asked, seeing it.
“A bit. Never mind. No, I want them with us, you know I do. And your parents too. It’d be pretty ungrateful of me to say anything else, wouldn’t it? Your mum’s doing practically all my cooking and laundry for me. Taking care of my kids, too, when you don’t.”
“Thought they were
our
kids.”
“You’re right. I mean, of course they are.” How was this going so wrong? Every word was spiky, weighted, and all she’d wanted to do was agree, get along. “I’m sorry.” She heard the miserable apology, tried to inject some lightness into her tone. “Don’t payany attention to me. It’s fifteen minutes. I’m good if you are. Pregnant wife, sandy kids. Pak ‘n’ Save. Ice and bread and milk. Sir Andrew Callahan, hero of the nation, welcome to your life.”
He decided to ignore the fact that she was trying to jolly him, as if he were the one who needed it.
“Right.” He pulled into the carpark, busy with arriving and departing cars on a Sunday afternoon in December, shoppers in and out of the sliding glass doors, shorts and jandals and sun hats and a holiday mood. He thought about suggesting she wait in the car for him and the kids, decided against it. He got out of the car, pulled Grace out of her car seat and hoisted her in an arm, grabbed hold of Jack’s hand.
“Can we have ice cream, Mum?” Jack asked, skipping along beside him but looking, as always, to his mother. Which was what Drew got for all those late-night planning sessions, just as Finn had said.
Well, it was his job. Nothing to be done about that. He always had breakfast with them, anyway, when he was home. That one was inviolable. When he was home.
“No ice cream,” Drew answered for her. “You had your lunch, and your granny will be giving you your tea at home soon enough. No room in that belly for ice cream.”
“I’ve got room,” Jack insisted. “I’m
empty
. I
need
ice cream.” And despite himself, Drew had to smile.
“Ice cream!” Grace echoed happily, bang on time.
Drew ignored the suggestion, gave her a kiss on top of her blonde curls, and followed his wife into the refrigerated cool of the cavernous supermarket, wishing he felt better about how she was walking.
“Bread, milk, eggs, right?” he asked, sliding Grace into the front carrier seat of the trolley that Hannah had pulled out as Jack ran to hop on the end for a ride. “Anything else we need, besides the ice?”
“Tea,” Hannah said. “I’ll get that, if you grab the rest.”
It was more like five minutes, after all. Not too bad.
“Come on, mate,” he told Jack, leaving the trolley with Hannah to push
“Aren’t we stopping at Pak ‘n’ Save?” Hannah asked in surprise.
They’d finally left the beach, because the kids needed naps. She’d known how much Drew was enjoying this relaxed time, so rare in his busy life. He needed the chance to catch up with his old mates, and she hadn’t wanted to break up the party, even though she’d have been more than ready to leave an hour earlier.
Now Drew had failed to indicate for the turn, and she sighed. “I thought we needed ice.”
Drew shot her a glance across the car. “Thought I’d come back for it once we’ve got the kids down. And you too.”
“I’m not that fragile.” She heard the tension in her voice, took a breath. “We’re here. It’ll take fifteen minutes, and forty-five by the time you make a separate trip. We need a few other things anyway. Too many people in the house.”
Another look, but he turned without a word at the next corner, began the series of quick lefts that would take him back to the supermarket. “Thought it might be too much for you,” he finally said. “We could’ve had Mako and Kristen stay at the hotel with the others. Still can, for that matter. You don’t have to say it, if that’s what you’re worried about. I will.”
“I don’t mind.” She shifted her position and sighed again.
“Back aching?” he asked, seeing it.
“A bit. Never mind. No, I want them with us, you know I do. And your parents too. It’d be pretty ungrateful of me to say anything else, wouldn’t it? Your mum’s doing practically all my cooking and laundry for me. Taking care of my kids, too, when you don’t.”
“Thought they were
our
kids.”
“You’re right. I mean, of course they are.” How was this going so wrong? Every word was spiky, weighted, and all she’d wanted to do was agree, get along. “I’m sorry.” She heard the miserable apology, tried to inject some lightness into her tone. “Don’t payany attention to me. It’s fifteen minutes. I’m good if you are. Pregnant wife, sandy kids. Pak ‘n’ Save. Ice and bread and milk. Sir Andrew Callahan, hero of the nation, welcome to your life.”
He decided to ignore the fact that she was trying to jolly him, as if he were the one who needed it.
“Right.” He pulled into the carpark, busy with arriving and departing cars on a Sunday afternoon in December, shoppers in and out of the sliding glass doors, shorts and jandals and sun hats and a holiday mood. He thought about suggesting she wait in the car for him and the kids, decided against it. He got out of the car, pulled Grace out of her car seat and hoisted her in an arm, grabbed hold of Jack’s hand.
“Can we have ice cream, Mum?” Jack asked, skipping along beside him but looking, as always, to his mother. Which was what Drew got for all those late-night planning sessions, just as Finn had said.
Well, it was his job. Nothing to be done about that. He always had breakfast with them, anyway, when he was home. That one was inviolable. When he was home.
“No ice cream,” Drew answered for her. “You had your lunch, and your granny will be giving you your tea at home soon enough. No room in that belly for ice cream.”
“I’ve got room,” Jack insisted. “I’m
empty
. I
need
ice cream.” And despite himself, Drew had to smile.
“Ice cream!” Grace echoed happily, bang on time.
Drew ignored the suggestion, gave her a kiss on top of her blonde curls, and followed his wife into the refrigerated cool of the cavernous supermarket, wishing he felt better about how she was walking.
“Bread, milk, eggs, right?” he asked, sliding Grace into the front carrier seat of the trolley that Hannah had pulled out as Jack ran to hop on the end for a ride. “Anything else we need, besides the ice?”
“Tea,” Hannah said. “I’ll get that, if you grab the rest.”
It was more like five minutes, after all. Not too bad.
“Come on, mate,” he told Jack, leaving the trolley with Hannah to push
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