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“Go shower.”

“I need to pump.”

“Then pump.”

“I need to wash bottles.”

“I’ll wash them.”

Her eyebrows went up.

“You?”

“Yes, me, nigga. Damn.”

“You know how?”

“It’s a bottle, not a transmission.”

She stared at me another second.

Then pointed toward the kitchen.

“There’s a separate brush for his bottles.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t use the regular sponge.”

“Okay.”

“And the pump parts⁠—”

“Heather.”

“What?”

“Go.”

She looked down at Collin.

Then back at me.

Something in her face changed.

Not all the way.

But enough.

“I’m taking a shower.”

“Take one.”

“A real one.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you take a bath too.”

“I might.”