Even if my Honda magically started the next morning, Sophie would not be waiting in my driveway at 7:20.
I hated the idea of Sophie getting caught in the middle.
But that was exactly how I had justified saying yes for years.
Every inconvenience would affect the child unless I stepped in and absorbed it first.
This time, Vanessa would have to solve her own morning.
I expected an angry text.
What I didn’t expect was someone pounding on my front door before seven the next morning.
When I opened it, Vanessa was standing on my porch completely soaked.
Her hair clung to her face.
Her expression was furious.
“What the hell did you do?”
I stared at her.
“What are you talking about?”
She pointed toward the street.
I stepped outside.
About fifteen children had gathered around Vanessa’s spotless white SUV.
Half a dozen parents stood behind them.
