“You should have been running this place all along.” She says it so matter-of-factly as if she’s not backhandedly insulting her husband at the same time. But I don’t let the compliment sink in. Because it doesn’t matter. “I’m going to tell Emerson you said that,” I reply sarcastically. “Go ahead. He agrees with me.” “Who says I even want to?” I ask, rerouting to a different defense. “You do,” she argues. “How so?”
