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She’s not talking.
Worse, she’s not smiling. But Jesus, why would she be? Even the slightest chance that my boys are anywhere near her eggs must be horrifying for her.
“Looks like there are thirteen pharmacies in Beaucoeur.” Her voice is subdued, and she’s got her phone in a death grip.
“How lucky.”
My sad little joke doesn’t bring her smile back. Instead, she turns to face the passenger window. I clear my throat and say, “The closest one’s a few blocks away. Start there?”
She nods, so I set us in motion toward the nearest of the mega-chain pharmacies in the area. I consider flipping on the radio, but I’m worried any extra noise will send her screaming from the car, so we drive in silence. The lights are blazing when we pull up to see people milling around inside the store. Once my car’s in park, she doesn’t wait for me, bolting from it like a startled rabbit. I scramble after her, and she’s almost to the pharmacy counter by the time I catch up.
The tiny, spiky-haired employee’s already frowning before Grace even starts talking, clearly no happier to be working on New Year’s Eve than we are to be here.
“Emergency contraception?” Grace asks. “Ella, preferably, but generic is fine too.”
The woman’s frown deepens. “We’re sold out. Have been for days.”
Grace goes a little green around the gills at the news. “How soon will it be back in stock?”
A shrug from the employee. “They don’t tell me those things.”
I’m standing awkwardly behind them for the whole exchange but decide to risk entering the conversation. “Any chance you can check to see if any other locations around town have them?”
The woman’s eyes cut from me to Grace, and I try not to bristle at what she must see. The dairy maid and the delinquent had an oopsie. She pokes a few buttons on the computer in front of her, then speaks without looking up.
“Looks like some are available at the West Beaucoeur store if you trust the computer.”
“Doyoutrust the computer?” Grace asks.
Another shrug from the woman has Grace muttering, “Thanks.” Then she spins and catches me by the hand, towing me out of the store with her. She doesn’t drop it once the doors glide open to release us into the night, which is at least ten degrees colder than it was when this whole evening started. I assume she’s still hanging on to me because her hand is cold, but I wish it was because she likes the feel of my fingers around hers.
I step around her to pull the passenger door open, and she glances at me in surprise. “Thanks.”
Once we’re settled in, I barely resist the urge to reach for her hand again. Not my fault that her skin is so damn soft.
We’re headed out of the parking lot when she deflates. “It’s best to take it as soon as possible.” Her eyes cut to mine. “And I know I’m just being paranoid, but—”
“I get it.” I don’t need her spelling out what the pharmacy employee’s expression made clear: not only is this a not-great situation, but the fact that it’s happening with me has to be Grace’s worst-case scenario.
I brace myself for another silent ride, but she heaves a soft sigh and drops her head against the seat back.
“So what would you have made me?” When I glance at her in confusion, she clarifies, “Afterward. You said you’d cook for me.”
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel as I consider.
“I mostly do PB&Js when I’m at home.” I slide her a smile. “But I toast the bread first. It’s as fancy as I get when I’m off the clock.”
She huffs a laugh, and my heart squeezes to hear the tiniest happy sound from her. “So all that pillow talk was for toast and jelly? Geez, that’s the last time I have sex with a Michelin star chef for the perks.”
I grin, relieved that she’s joking and thrilled that she knows about my Michelin star. Sometimes neighbor Jeff’s gossiping is good.
“The sexisthe perk,” I tell her. “The sandwich is a bonus.”
“Riiiiight. And I was cruelly denied that.” She pouts, but it’s playful. The promise of a pill at the end of the rainbow seems to have cheered her up.
“But seriously,” I say, squinting a little as I think about the contents of my fridge and pantry, “I could’ve pulled together some homemade pasta for us.”
