“Focus on the road,” I said from the back seat, pressing a cool, wet washcloth to June’s damp temple.

“I am focusing,” he said, running one hand through his hair before gripping the leather wheel again.

“I’m just saying Alan expects the product deck fully finalized before nine tomorrow morning.”

“Our daughter has a 104 fever, Ethan,” I said, keeping my voice low so June wouldn’t start screaming again.

“I know that,” he snapped, his voice tight and thin in the closed car.

“I’m driving, aren’t I?”