"Hey, like I said, I'll make it up to you," Damon said, glancing over from the driver's seat.
Svetlana smirked, arms folded, still fresh off a long and colorful rant that had lasted nearly the entire ride so far. "You always say that."
"And I always do," he countered, flashing a grin.
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
In the back seat, Ava sat strapped in her car seat, thumb in her mouth, kicking her legs lazily.
The stroller was tucked in the trunk, packed under a few shopping bags they had picked up earlier.
She was content, quietly humming nonsense while watching shapes pass the window.
The car hummed along the road, late afternoon sun painting the street in long golden strips.
Damon drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, letting the silence settle in for a bit, until Svetlana finally broke it.
"You know what would actually make it up to me?"
"Uh-oh," he said, glancing at her.
"Spa day. Just me. No Damon, no toddler."
