Just Kidding (SWAT Generation 2.0 #1)(68)

“I said.” I paused as I crept forward just a little bit more. “I was asking what the hold-up was to the person in front of me. The light’s backed up wayyyyy past where it normally is.” I narrowed my eyes as once again the light allowed two people through then turned red again. “The light’s fucked up and is only letting two people through before it turns red again. That’s what the hold-up is.”

“You should’ve gone the back way,” she teased.

I rolled my eyes.

The ‘back way’ was actually a cut through that really was only a shopping center parking lot so you could skip the light.

“That’s illegal,” I reminded her. “Remember?”

She scoffed delicately.

“The parking lots wouldn’t be connected if they didn’t want you to hop through them,” she corrected me. “And how is it illegal when I’m just cutting through the parking lot to look at a few cars?”

The line crept forward once again, this time allowing three people through.

Jesus Christ.

I groaned and slammed my hand down on the steering wheel. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” she said. “I love you.”

“I’ll see you in a bit, baby,” I murmured, watching as once again the light turned green and allowed three people through.

Son of a bitch.

Pulling up my radio, I made a call to dispatch, then once again waited for the light.

This time I made it.

I only had to run the red light to do it, though.

And as I got closer to our favorite deli, I remembered her asking for a tea.

Swinging in there, I ordered our teas, then ordered a sandwich.

I thought better of it before I left, though, and went back for two chocolate chip cookies.

“Thank you, Edna,” I said to the woman behind the counter.

She waved at me and I went on my way, heading home.

Finally arriving to the place that Rowen and I had purchased together a couple of weeks after I asked her to marry me, I took a good look around.

The yard needed weed-whacked.

Bad.

But I could tell that it’d been mowed.

Telling myself not to get too upset when I knew damn well and good that it wasn’t the neighbor that did it again, I walked inside with my bag of spoils.

I found my woman at the counter chopping up an avocado.

She had two large sandwiches made with everything I wanted on them, a pitcher of tea made sitting next to it, and cookies cooling on the counter.

My heart fell.

“Shit,” I said as I saw all the work she’d done. “I’m sorry, I thought…”

She turned and found the bag of food in one hand, the teas in the other, and her face fell.

“It’s okay,” she said as she gathered the sandwich meat and spreads up. “They’ll keep.”

We both knew that they wouldn’t.

And nobody, not even the dog we got last month, would eat it either.

I didn’t eat old sandwiches because it was inevitable that they’d be soggy. And Rowen didn’t like mustard.

Meaning those sandwiches she’d made, with goddamn bacon even, would go to waste.

I looked at the sandwich in my hand and considered throwing it out, but she stopped me with a firm, “Don’t you dare.”

I looked up to see her arms crossed tightly over her chest, forearms resting on her distended belly.

I placed the food on the counter, then walked to my wife and pulled her into my arms.

She rested her head against my chest and sighed.

“I thought you said that you weren’t stopping. That you were too tired,” she muttered.

I squeezed her a bit tighter and felt the baby kick me in response.

Smiling at the small life that she carried within her, I pressed my hand to her belly and waited.

The baby, like always, never kicked me again.

It was as if he or she knew what I wanted and refused to give it to me.

Like mother like child.

“I was, and still am,” I admitted. “But the tea sounded really good after spending the last four hours outside in the hot sun. And then I thought you might really like it. So I got you one. And a cookie.”

She sighed.

“You’re right. I would’ve liked it.” She paused. “Had I not eaten like eight of those cookies already. I don’t have any room left.”

I looked at the cookies that’d barely had time to cool, and grinned.

Putting my food into the fridge, I gathered my sandwiches that she’d made me, salted my avocado, and ate the shit out of the food she’d prepared for me.

Her smile was soft as she watched me demolish all twelve of the leftover cookies.

“At least,” I said as I took a gulp of milk between cookies. “With the deli, I wouldn’t have gorged on all these cookies.”

She snorted. “I’m sure that my bread was about half the carbs than the stuff they use,” she said. “It’ll wash.”

I rolled my eyes, then got a good look at the lawn again.

Eyes narrowing, I turned to her.

“So…” I said. “Did you mow today?”

She opened her mouth to deny it, then thought better of it.

“You’re always gone, Dax,” she said. “I just wanted to see it nice and mowed. And if it makes you feel better, I used the riding mower.”