"What in the shit?" I asked as he led us down the infant aisle.

"Language, Isaac," he reminded me, but he put a hand on my shoulder. I jerked back. I had walked beside him, not touching him. I was so not ready for public displays of affection. "This . . . just hear me out."

I was glaring, I realized. "Fine," I snapped. "But I already fucking hate what you have to say and you haven't even spoken yet."

"We ordered some things off the internet while you were feeling, erm, while you were my Little Eyes. They should come soon but I thought in the meantime maybe there...