I wrap my hands around Adam’s arms and shove him, hard as I can, into the refrigerator, which wobbles as I pin him there. My hands fist in his shirt as I hiss in my most low, vicious voice, “Don’t you ever speak to my wife like that again, understand?” “I-I-I-understand!” Adam spits out. But I’m going to need more than his understanding. “Apologize,” I demand. “I’m s-sorry, Maddie.”
