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This pregnancy so far hadn’t been like the ones she’d read about. There’d been no weird cravings, no hunkering for pickles or fried foods, no making him dash out at ungodly hours of the night for some strange concoction they didn’t have in the house. She’d been eating pretty healthily, lots of fruits and vegetables. The most abnormal thing was probably how much she was eating. She was constantly grazing throughout the day, so much so, that she could never eat a full meal, preferring to have a couple of smaller potions over the course of the day.
It’d taken Castle the better part of a week to stop frowning when she never finished a meal, until she’d written down exactly what she’d eaten one day, and his eyes had bugged wide. From then on, he constantly supplied her with different snacks, keeping the break-room, her drawer, even the glove-box in her city-issued sedan fully stocked.
The fridge and freezer at home were almost overflowing, full of food he knew she would eat, and stuff she may possibly have a hunkering for later on. Even his ice cream stash had doubled. He’d stocked up on both of their favorites, having still not convinced her to move away from the simple flavors like strawberry cheesecake and triple chocolate.
It wasn’t until he’d come home from a meeting early one day, that he caught her, spooning several scoops of the very same ice cream she’d turned her nose up at last week. He’d grinned widely at her semi-guilty look as she shoved the container back into the freezer.
“It’s not for me,” she’d insisted, giving him a look. He’d nodded disbelievingly, coming up to wrap her in his arms.
“Blame your child,” she’d continued, almost whining. “I can’t believe the only craving I’ve had so far, is for your damn ice cream.” He’d laughed and kissed her, tasting the salty sweetness of the pretzel-laced ice cream on her lips. He’d gone to take a bite when she snatched the spoon and bowl away from him.
“Get your own,” she’d said. “Baby wants ice cream. and this is mine.”