“I saved us four grand on a pointless test for a stomachache.”

“You told the clinic we couldn’t afford it,” I said.

“You forged my signature on a bank transfer slip.”

Richard laughed.

It was a loud, scornful bark that made the barista turn around from the espresso machine.

“You’re making a bunch of pointless family drama over routine bookkeeping,” he said.

“Four thousand dollars isn’t bookkeeping.

You lied to the hospital to dodge a deductible.”