You’d ignored every one of his calls and left every text unanswered after your fight.

So now he was here, standing beside his car, trying to coax you inside.

“c’mon,” he said, holding the passenger door open. “Get in, and I’ll drive you to your favorite ice cream truck, hm?”

You stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, refusing to move.

“…baby?” he tried again.

That one word was enough to make your resolve falter.

With an annoyed huff, you finally walked over—but instead of taking your usual spot in the passenger seat, you opened the rear door and climbed into the back.

He caught your reflection in the rearview mirror and let out a tired sigh.

“…Babe, seriously?”

His patience was wearing thin. He’d been patient enough already.