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Fuck.

I duck behind a cardboard display. My shoulder hits it and the entire thing wobbles.

“Oh, shit.” I grab both sides. Boxes of crackers tilt dangerously. “No. No, no, no.”

I shove them back.

One falls. I catch it against my chest.

Another slides. I catch it in the crook of my elbow.

A third starts moving. “Don't you fucking dare.”

I slap my hand against it.

Everything stops moving.

Jesus. I hope Roman didn’t see me.

I slowly look around the display. Roman is twenty feet away, looking at coffee. His back is to me.

I exhale.

Still got it.

I carefully release the display. One box drops onto the floor. I pick it up and shove it into my basket.

Fine. The crackers can join the cantaloupe.

Roman moves, so I follow.

I linger at the endcap, watching him grab a larger container of coffee and put it in his cart.

He turns, and I panic, grabbing the first thing from the shelf. I hold it up and pretend to read the label.

Roman continues around the corner.

I toss the hot chocolate—at least I like that—into the basket and hurry down the aisle.

He’s in the medicine aisle, looking at pain medication.

Damn. He could be in a commercial for that shit.

His brows furrow as he reads the label, then tosses the box of Tylenol into his cart.

He turns his cart around and heads toward me.

I turn to the shelves so fast my basket bangs against my knee. My hand swipes the first thing within reach. My heart beats faster as he moves closer.

Shit. Does he know it’s me?

I watch him out of the corner of my eye, sweat beading on my forehead.

Then he walks past me without even glancing my way.

I don't breathe until he's gone.

Then I look at what I'm holding. Hemorrhoid cream.