fridge.”
Vanessa put her phone down, jaw tightening. “She’s eighty, Ethan. She barely has a palate. You act like I’m running a five-star resort here. I have a wedding to plan, a career, and I’m stuck playing nursemaid to someone who forgets my name half the time. You should be thanking me for even being here.”
My mother reached out then, her fingers continue reading …
