My fingertips go numb from digging through frozen packages, pushing aside frost-covered bags of peas and ancient ice packs as I search the depths of our freezer. The overhead kitchen light casts long shadows across the linoleum as evening settles outside our windows.
"Danny?" Emily's voice carries from the hallway, that particular tone that means she's just finished something important.
"Hey," I call back, still excavating the freezer's arctic wasteland. My mind is focused solely on the mission, locate the chocolate ice cream that I could swear was in here yesterday.
Emily appears in the kitchen doorway, her silver hair loose around her shoulders, phone still clutched in one hand. There's something in her expression, a tightness around her eyes, a slight furrow between her brows, that makes me pause my search.
She opens her mouth like she's about to tell me something serious, then seems to reconsider. Her eyes drift to the open freezer, the scattered bags of frozen vegetables on the counter.
"What are you looking for?" she asks instead, slipping her phone into her pocket.
"I want to make a milkshake," I reply, pushing aside what appears to be a frozen block of soup from last winter. "Could've sworn we had chocolate ice cream in here somewhere."
Emily laughs, the sound warming the kitchen despite the cold air pouring from the freezer. She moves beside me, reaching past my arm to pull out a container I somehow missed despite looking right at it three separate times.
"It's right here," she says, setting it on the counter with a soft thud. Her eyes meet mine, and suddenly her expression shifts into something more deliberate, more focused. "Sit down, let Mommy make it for you."
"No, no, I can do it," I insist, already reaching for the blender. I'm an adult, after all. I can handle making my own damn milkshake.
Emily's eyes go empty, the warmth vanishing so completely it's like someone flipped a switch. "Danny," she says, my name falling from her lips like a stone.
My stomach drops instantly, recognition of that tone sending a jolt through my system. I've crossed a line without realizing it.
"Sorry. Yes," I say quickly, pulling my hand back from the blender.
I slide onto one of the kitchen stools, watching as the transformation happens before my eyes. Emily's face softens dramatically, the warmth flooding back into her features like sunshine breaking through clouds.
"Thank you," she says, and there's genuine pleasure in her voice, as if my simple act of compliance has given her something precious.
She hums softly as she pries open the ice cream container, revealing chocolate that's just soft enough to scoop. I watch her movements, methodical and precise as she fills the blender with three perfect scoops.
"I'll make it to go, okay?" Emily says, reaching for the milk.
"To go?" I repeat, confused. "Where are we be going?"
She glances over her shoulder, a mysterious smile playing on her lips. "We're going on a picnic."
"We are?" A grin spreads across my face as excitement bubbles up inside me. "That sounds like a lot of fun."
Something flickers in Emily's expression as she pours milk into the blender. Her smile falters for just a fraction of a second, almost imperceptible if I wasn't watching her so closely.
"What's wrong?" I ask, leaning forward on my stool.
She takes a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling as she composes herself. When she turns to me again, her smile seems genuine, the momentary lapse gone without a trace.
"Nothing at all, baby," she assures me, hitting the blend button.
The blender roars to life, filling the kitchen with a mechanical scream that makes conversation impossible. I watch as chocolate swirls with milk, creating a vortex that's almost hypnotic. Emily's focused on the task, but something about her posture remains tense, like there's a weight pressing down on her shoulders that wasn't there before.
When she finally cuts the power, the sudden silence feels heavy between us. She pours the thick mixture into a big travel cup.
"Is this a spontaneous picnic?" I ask, accepting the cup. The cold seeps through the plastic into my palm. "Or have you been planning this?"
Emily gives me a thoughtful look, running her fingertips along the rim of the blender. "I'd say it was inevitable, actually."
I nod, watching her clean up the ice cream container. There's something about the way she says it, like pieces of a puzzle I can't see are falling into place.
"Well, whatever you want to do is fine with me," I tell her, meaning every word. "I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, you know that."
Her eyes soften at my declaration. She crosses the kitchen cups my face in her hands. The kiss she gives me is deep and tender, filling me with warmth that contradicts the cold cup in my hand.
When she pulls away, I lift the milkshake to my lips, eager for that first chocolatey taste.
"Drink it slowly, okay baby?" Emily cautions, her thumb stroking my cheek. "I don't want you getting a brain freeze."
"True," I acknowledge with a small smile. "Thanks for looking out for me."
"Always," she says, already reaching for her purse on the counter. "Let's get going."