*Elena's POV*
It started with pickles.
Well ... pickles and peanut butter and whatever those little chocolate-covered pretzels were that I had spotted in the pantry three days ago and had been thinking about ever since. Don't judge me. I was growing a human being. My cravings had their own personality at this point.
I waddled down the stairs at half past midnight, one of my hand on the railing, wearing an oversized sleep shirt and the kind of dignity that only a pregnant woman raiding a kitchen at night could possess.
The kitchen light was already on.
I froze in the doorway.
Liam was standing at the counter in shorts and no shirt ... which, fine, was an entirely unnecessary detail that my brain chose to register and file immediately, while he hold a glass of water. Very innocently. V
