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Will paused. “Are you sure you’re up for wine?”

“It’s a necessity,” I said, barely able to find my voice.

“Okay. I brought a bottle. I can guarantee you’re going to like this one better than whatever broom brew you were going for.”

“Broom brew!” I laughed, forgetting myself. A dull ache followed the movement. I swallowed.

Will held up the bottle so I could see it. I recognized it as an expensive California red another food blogger I followed raved about constantly.

“That’s expensive, isn’t it?” I asked. Then I was embarrassed I’d said it. I’d always been too cheap to buy it. Or rather, I just couldn’t afford it on my shoestring budget. Once again, I thought of the failings of my blog. How I’d ignored my family for it, framing endless photos of food and writing long soliloquies about tomato sauce—and for what?

“It seemed like we needed the big guns tonight,” Will said, unbothered by the base question.

Was he just talking about my disastrous night? Or was he talking about the elephant in the room? That we hadn’t seen each other for over a month and that the last time we had we’d nearly kissed?

Maybe it was none of that. Chances are, he was being sweet and kind. Bending over backward for me like he’d done ever since I met him, even if he acted like he wasn’t sometimes.

I was the worst. The worst for treating him badly. The worst for ignoring my children while I beat my head against a wall trying to make this stupid blog work.

The worst for forgetting Joe.

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I tried to squash them with the heels of my palms.

“I felt like a terrible mom tonight,” I whispered, latching onto only one of the things.

Will stopped what he was doing. “Why?”

“Because I got so caught up in trying to make this post perfect—I’ve been trying to do that for so long—I forgot about them. I nearly burned the house down trying to find fucking camera equipment.

Will was silent for a moment.

“I know what you’re going to say,” I said. “You think I should quit the blog. Follow my dreams.”

“No. I mean, that may be true but I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say you’re an amazing Mom.” He gathered up the plates and wine glasses and came over to me—not even suggesting we move to the table. When he sat down next to me I had to fight the urge to tip my head down on his shoulder.Focus, Michelle.

I needed to remember why I’d asked him here. It wasn’t to take comfort from him.

You sure?

“I had an amazing mom myself,” Will said, reaching for the pizza. “So I should know.”

I thought of a little Will, the oldest of his three siblings, with the difficult father he’d described, and the close relationship he must have had with his mother.

“Tell me about her,” I said.

Will looked surprised, but he tipped his head back against the wall and told me about how his mom was his biggest fan. How she went to all his soccer games and debate meets. How she told him he could be president one day.

“President!” I said. “Are you still going to try that?”

“Maybe next year,” he said with a smile, but there was a note of something in his voice.

“Are you still considering the mayoral run?” I asked.

“I never was.”

“Why not? You’d be good at it.”

He eyed me but said nothing. Just popped open the little knife from the corkscrew and cut a quick circle around the foil wrap.