LAYLA’S POV
He follows me, yes.
He pushes the cart, yes.
He also has absolutely no spatial awareness in a grocery store whatsoever.
The cart clips a display of pasta boxes in aisle four and he catches it before it falls, glances around to see if anyone noticed and then immediately keeps walking like nothing happened.
I lose it somewhere around the cereal aisle when he picks up two boxes, one in each hand, holds them side by side and says with complete sincerity, “What’s the difference?”
“One is oats,” I manage. “The other is corn flakes.”
“So?”
“So they’re completely different cereals.”
“They’re both breakfast.”
I have to turn away and pretend I’m reading a label.
By the time we hit the dairy section, I’ve given up trying to hold it together entirely. He spends a full minute exa
