She grabbed the crumpled list from the passenger seat and stared at it as if it might rearrange itself into cheaper items.
Milk. Eggs. Bread. Peanut butter. Rice. Beans. Fruit if possible. Diapers—just one pack.
That last one had a question mark beside it. Not because she didn’t need them, but because she didn’t know how to make the math work.
Mara got out of the car and started toward the sliding doors.
Halfway there, she paused to press a hand to her belly, not for show, not for sentiment, but because the baby had kicked hard enough to make her wince. A little reminder. A little insistence. Like the child was tapping from the inside, demanding to be counted.
“I know,” Mara whispered under her breath. “I know.”
Inside, the store was bright and cold. The air conditioning hit her skin like a slap after the heat outside. She grabbed a cart and started down the aisles slowly, because fast wasn’t an option anymore.
The cart rattled as if it had its own opinions about being pushed by someone with a spine that felt like a bent nail. Mara picked items with the focus of a person defusing a bomb.
Generic bread. Not the kind Tyler liked.
Store-brand peanut butter.
