“Mrs. Hunters, please.”

I slip into the driver’s seat. “I’m guessing you’re not allowed to touch me.” It’s not a question, because I know just how jealous and possessive my husband can be.

“No, ma’am, I can’t.”

“Then how are you really going to stop me?” I reach under the seat and grab the keys, and he jumps into the passenger seat. I let him stay there because I know he’s only trying to do his job.

It doesn’t take long for me to find my husband leaning up against a fence with a few other hands around him. When he sees me, his nose flares, and I stop only...