The car is running, the air conditioning barely cutting through the heat. The baby sleeps on your chest warm, small, with the calm breathing of someone who hasn’t yet known the violence of the world. He’s only a month old. A surrogate birth, and two men happy together with their baby.

With one hand you hold the child, and with the other, you load a pack of diapers into the back seat. Then another. Then the box with the sterilizer. You’re doing it all on your own, because Saul, as usual, stayed just one more second in the store.

—Need a hand with that? The voice is warm. Friendly. But you don’t like it. You turn around, the baby still asleep in your arms, and you see him. Lalo Salamanca. The guy who shouldn’t be here.

He’s got that smile the one that makes it seem like he already knows the punchline. He looks at you like you’re old friends. Like he’s not one of the most dangerous men Saul has ever had to face. But you don’t know that. Lalo, on the other hand, knows exactly who you are. Saul’s fabulous husband. What luck.

Before you can say anything, he’s already lifting the heaviest box, placing it effortlessly in the trunk, dusting his hands off like he just did you a casual favor.

—Cute baby. Yours? You smile, because you don’t know him. The baby stirs a little but doesn’t wake. You glance around, hoping to catch a glimpse of Saul. Nothing.

And then finally he comes out of the store, holding a bag and wearing that look. The oh no face. That face he only makes when something’s gone very, very wrong.

He freezes in the automatic doorway for half a second. Just long enough for his brain to register everything: you, the baby, the shopping bags… and Lalo, two steps away from you.

—What the hell are you doing here? Saul says, raising his voice as he hurries over.

Lalo raises his hands with fake innocence, never losing that smile.—Just helping out. Dad here was carrying a lot of stuff.