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Stella, meanwhile, was grinning her face off, even though Mom had made her take out her customary ponytail, which she still wore to this day.

“You don’t look happy to have your picture taken,” she said, squinting at me.

I looked as miserable as Dad.

“My dad and I fought in the car on the way over. We didn’t exactly get along.” Mom had broken it up, tsking at Dad for getting so angry.

Michelle looked over at me. I was one step down, so our eyes were level. “How about now?”

“Still don’t,” I said.

I looked back at the photo. The way Michelle was looking at me was too much. I couldn’t trust myself to meet her eyes.

My mom’s smile radiated from the photo. “I don’t know how my mom put up with him. Why she didn’t just leave.”

Like Jill.

“She must have loved him,” Michelle said.

Somehow, she had. And Jill hadn’t.

“We better get some food,” I said, my voice feeling distant. “Your car’s going to be ready soon.”

* * *

It was onlywhen we got to the kitchen that I realized I didn’t really have any food to speak of. I didn’t really think this through.

“Shit—there might be some soup in the pantry?

Michelle studied me for a moment, then let out a breath, appearing ready to drop the discussion of my goddamn future. “We can do better than soup.”

After ten minutes of her scrounging around in my pantry, fridge, and cupboards, I was taking a bite of the most mind-blowingly delicious sandwich I’d ever tasted.

“How the hell did you do that?” I asked around a mouthful.

“It’s kind of what I do,” Michelle said. She sat on the barstool next to me at the island. “In fact, I’m finishing up a blog post about how to make something out of nothing later today when I get home. So really, you were just a guinea pig.”

I finished my bite looking at her. As she took a bite of her sandwich, I sat back and ran a hand through my hair, feeling like an ass.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She looked over at me but said nothing.

“Michelle, seriously. I’m sorry. I’ve never really told anyone about my earlier aspirations before and I guess I felt kind of… called out.”

“Now you know what it’s like,” she said, taking a sip of water.

“I still think you should be running a restaurant,” I said. “I’ve never tasted a sandwich this good.”

“It would have been even better with a pinch of fresh cilantro.”

“Ugh,” I made a gross-out face.

“What’s wrong with cilantro?”

“You mean soap leaves?”

She gasped. “Will Archer—cilantro is a delicious herb! It’s used in the most gorgeous dishes the world over.”