I pushed the grocery cart down the aisle, the bright lights of the store making my headache worse. This was the last thing I wanted to be doing—shopping for food, for *her*. But after what happened earlier, I couldn’t trust anyone else to take care of Grace’s needs. Not when she was in such a fragile state.
Tony walked beside me, glancing at the shelves, just as lost as I was. He picked up a can of something—chickpeas?—and gave me a confused look. “Does Grace even know how to cook?” he asked, turning the can in his hand like it might give him the answer.
“No idea,” I grunted, grabbing a random can of soup off the shelf and tossing it into the cart. “Not really my concern right now.”
“Right, but if she’s going to be living with us, she might need to eat something other than instant noodl
