“Vanessa, she needs to see her specialist,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “We have been waiting three months for this appointment, and I only need the car for a couple of hours.”
My wife hardly glanced up from her phone. She was dressed in expensive yoga clothes for brunch, holding an iced coffee, while our SUV keys sat beside her designer purse.
“Then find another way,” she replied. “I have plans with my friends, and I’m not rearranging my entire day because your mother can’t manage her own appointments.”
