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Dad pointed to a photo on the menu. “I’ll have the classic lasagna.”

“I want the fettuccine,” Zoey said.

“I’ll have the eggplant parmigiana,” I said when the waitress looked at me.

“Soup or salad?” she asked.

“Salad,” Dad answered for us.

“Endless breadsticks,” Zoey said.

“Of course,” the waitress answered.

The family next to us seemed to have gotten even louder in the last few minutes, laughing and talking over each other as if they shared every thought that came into their heads. The parents sat on one end of the table and I counted, one, two, three…my eyes paused. Asher. That was Asher. My eyes shot to the next person and sure enough, it was Brett. Apparently Asher’s whole family was here. He had an older sister, it looked like, and an older brother. Then him and Brett.

Asher was speaking at the moment, saying something about school. Something that made him laugh. He laughed with his whole body, his face toward the ceiling, open, like he was.

“Thanks, Zoey,” Dad said, bringing my attention back to our table where he was opening my sister’s gift. It was a magnetic wristband to hold nuts and bolts and things while working. “This is great.”

I shot her a look. She must’ve gone to the hardware store after the farmers’ market. I did not do that. I thought we were both giving him farmers’ market finds. Especially considering the farmers’ market had beenheridea.

Our dad moved on to my bag and began taking out the tissue paper. “I heard you blocked your mom’s number.”

I gasped, then elbowed my sister. “Did you tattle on me?”

“I didn’t.”

“Your mom told me,” Dad said. “Why did you block her?”

Because she would call every day for a week straight and then not call for three months. Sometimes she’d call late at night or in the middle of a school day. She always forgot important dates or holidays. Blocking her allowed me to pretend that she didn’t, likeI was not letting her call, not that she was the one who wasn’t calling. It gave me the control I needed.

“Because Wren is mean,” my sister whispered in a teasing voice. It was a joke I’d heard before, but, in this context, and coming from my people-pleasing sister, it stung.

A basket of breadsticks appeared at our table and I jumped a little, startled. Dad took one, without a response to Zoey’s comment, then continued to open my gift. A stupid gift. One I’d gotten at the farmers’ market that had nothing my dad would actually like. I should’ve gone somewhere else, tried harder, stuck to myplan.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” I said, standing and darting away from the table. It was obvious why I was fleeing, but neither my dad nor my sister would say a word about it when I got back. That’s how the subject of my mom worked—my sister would defend her, my dad would remain neutral, and I came out looking like the irrational one. It was either that or jokes. We were good at joking away anything uncomfortable. It was family tradition.

Instead of going to the bathroom, I went outside. I needed a dose of fresh air to relieve my burning cheeks.

After a couple of minutes of deep-breathing the crisp air, the door behind me pushed open. I turned, expecting to be surprised that my dad or Zoey had actually followed to check on me, but it was just a couple, leaving the restaurant hand in hand.

I turned away and pulled out my phone. I went to Settings, then Blocked Numbers. Hers was the only one on the list. I stared at it for several long minutes and finally clicked on the Unblock button next to her name. I swallowed hard.

“Wren?” There was a tap on my shoulder.

Asher had come outside without making a noise, because there he was, standing next to me. I’d nearly forgotten he was here.

“Hey.” I tucked my phone away.

“I thought that was you,” he said. “What a coincidence.”

“Yeah…”

“You must’ve seen me inside because you don’t seem surprised at all.”

“Oh, I did. I would’ve said hi when I…” I gestured vaguely to the restaurant.

“Uh-huh, sure you would’ve,” Asher teased, but I could tell his feelings were hurt.