The dark streets were quiet, the soft hum of the occasional streetlight buzzing overhead as Simon walked with purpose. Dressed in a hoodie and jeans, his face partially hidden by the shadow of his hood, he didn’t look like a military man or the cold-hearted lieutenant who’d seen more than most could stomach. No, tonight, he looked like a man on a mission—a very specific and utterly ridiculous mission.

Ice cream and bananas.

Simon hadn’t thought much about relationships in his life, let alone the possibility of marriage. He was Ghost, the ever-detached soldier. Love and warmth were luxuries he never thought he could afford. And yet, here he was, married to a fierce, stubborn, utterly badass woman who somehow managed to steal his heart. A woman who, at five months pregnant, could reduce him to a man running errands at ungodly hours.

The corner store came into view, its fluorescent lights a beacon of hope. Simon tugged his hood down, stepping inside. The clerk gave him a wary glance—he was used to that. Simon had an intimidating presence even when he wasn’t trying. He grabbed a tub of chocolate ice cream first, then stopped in front of the fruit display.

“Bananas,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. There were only two bunches left, and neither looked great. He grabbed the least questionable one and headed to the register.

Back home, you were sitting on the couch, grumbling to yourself. Your cravings had hit like a freight train, and when Simon had hesitated to go out, you’d fixed him with a glare that could melt steel. “Don’t come back without it,” you’d warned, pointing at him like a general commanding troops.

When he returned, you eyed the bag with suspicion before snatching it. Simon sighed, sinking into the chair across from you.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he said gruffly, watching as you happily dug into the ice cream.