“Right,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
I bit back my smirk. “And while we’re at it, a high chair.”
“For a newborn?” He barely concealed his skepticism.
“Shockingly, she won’t be a newborn forever.”
“Right,” he muttered. “Makes sense.”
I blinked. “That’s it?”
He shrugged. “You’re the expert.”
I squinted at him. “You never agree with me this easily. What’s your angle?”
“I’m coming with you.”
I sighed. Loudly.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Griffin.” I rubbed my temples. “We’ve been over this. You can’t be seen buying baby supplies.”
His jaw flexed. “Then I won’t be seen.”
“Right. Because you’re just some anonymous guy with a forgettable face.”
“I’ll wear a disguise.”
I stared at him. “You cannot be serious.”
“Completely serious.”
“It won’t work. Celebrities try disguises all the time and they always look more suspicious.”
He crossed his arms. “I’ll make it work.”
“No. The answer is no.” I shook my head firmly. “I’ll send pictures. You can approve everything remotely.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s the only option that doesn’t end with your face on every tabloid by lunch.”
“I don’t care about the tabloids.”
“Well, I do!” My voice rose. “Because when this blows up, and it will, I’m the one who has to answer for it! Not you. Me.”
“So this is about Julian?—”
“This is about common sense, which you clearly lack!” I stepped back. “I’m going alone.”
“Violet. I need to do this. I need to learn what she needs. How to pick things for her.”
I opened my mouth to refuse again.
“That’s what good fathers do, isn’t it? They know their kids. They know what to buy, what works, what doesn’t. You’re only here for four months. After that, it’s just me and Hazel. I can’t rely on you forever.”
