In my confusion, only one thought makes its way to the surface.
I’ve never been so hard in my f*****g life.
“Quite a temper, your missus,” Grisha comments off-handedly as he starts the car. “Dare I say you’ve finally found your match?”
I’m thinking the same thing, but I don’t let it show. After all, there can be no match. “Drive,” I order Grisha instead, nipping this conversation in the bud.
Not that that’s ever deterred him before.
“I’m just saying,” Grisha insists, turning the key as he continues talking. It’s his specialty: obeying spoken orders while defying unspoken ones. “She may have had a point. Perhaps a nice bouquet to smooth things over might be in order?”
“I won’t apologize for caring about my child,” I snap. “Now, shut up and drive.”
Grisha raises his hands in surrender
