Our Marriage Was A Condemned House

When the condemned building collapsed, trapping Grandma inside, I called Jefferson twenty-nine times. Before the ceiling caved in, she'd managed to toss a knitted scarf through the rubble. "Avery, stop fighting with Jefferson over me," she'd wheezed. "Give him this. Tell him I'm sorry for being an old fool, always causing trouble."

On the thirtieth try, he finally answered, voice dripping with impatience. "Avery, cut the dramatics. Stella's real estate firm is facing a massive lawsuit. I'm drowning in her PR nightmare. Can your grandmother's petty relocation dispute wait until tomorrow?"