After I broke my leg, my husband said he “couldn’t be late for work” when I asked him to drive our girls to school. Funny, because he had time to pick up his young, pretty coworker. He needed a lesson. So I left one small surprise in her seat, and let me tell you, that man will remember it for life.
“Is your mom coming tomorrow?”
Harold asked me that while I was sitting halfway up our stairs with one crutch wedged under my arm and Nicki’s coat stretched across my lap.
I stared at him.
He was holding coffee.
I was sitting halfway up our stairs with one crutch wedged under my arm.
I was trying to work a zipper one-handed while balancing a seven-year-old’s sleeve over the cast covering my left leg.
“No. My mother is not driving an hour here, taking the girls to school, driving an hour home, then doing it again tomorrow.”
