every month toward groceries.”
David opened his mouth.
Then closed it.
“But we’ve always—”
“You have two full-time incomes.”
“Mom, that’s part of our budget.”
There it was.
My gift had become a line item.
“I understand.”
“You can’t just stop.”
I looked at my grown son holding coffee I’d made in the house I paid for.
“Actually, David, I can.”
He left ten minutes later, stunned and unusually quiet.
Watching his car disappear, I already knew Rachel would see this not as a boundary, but a declaration of war.
