He brought the car to a smooth stop behind a delivery van idling near the curb.

While we sat waiting under the glowing red light, Ethan slid his right hand down below the lower curve of the steering wheel.

A faint blue screen glow flickered against his trousers in the dark cabin.

His thumbs moved rapidly across the glass, tapping out text messages with precise speed.

I leaned forward between the front bucket seats and saw his profile caught clearly in the passenger side mirror.

“Is there someone else you are messaging while our baby is in distress?” I asked, my voice cutting through the hum of the heater.