I grin. “My thought exactly.”

“So.” Henry pauses, like he has a question he’s considering how to phrase. “Do you need help? Now that Reid is in the cast?”

It’s the last thing I expect Henry to say. “Really?”

“Not as a codirector,” Henry clarifies. “More as like… an assistant to the codirector?”

“Henry, I would love literally nothing more. But you cannot be my assistant!”

“Part-time partner, then? Resident blocking expert?”

I laugh. “We’ll work on the title. Wait. So, you’re really back?”

Henry nods. “I want to see this through. Plus, my college apps are all in… so there is nothing left to do but wait. What could be a better distraction?”

“I could not agree more. I promise that there will be no more pranking involved in the making of Melted. I cannot, however, promise I won’t torture Reid with directorial notes.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Henry says before stuffing a second cupcake in his mouth.

With Henry back on board, it feels like all the pieces are falling into place.

Mom emerges from her office and sees the cupcake breakfast already in progress. “I don’t condone this,” she says, before participating in the narrative by reaching for a lemon meringue.

“Devil’s food cupcakes should be illegal,” Henry adds.

Mom plucks a napkin from the table and holds her cupcake in her hand. “I know.”

It’s a throwaway line, and just like that I know her mind is still with her manuscript. I’m right, because her cameo appearance ends as quickly as it began and she retreats to finalize the synopsis and partial sample for Guy in Your MFA before her call tomorrow with Anna, her agent. I get to proofread it before she sends it off to Anna’s inbox, something she promised just as she was crossing over from wine-tipsy to wine-drunk last night. She even signed a napkin that says, “Natalie Jacobson has the exclusive right to proofread Michelle Leigh Jacobson’s undisclosed proposal.” I wrote it with the Sharpie everyone used to sign Delia’s giant card. It’s basically a contract.

Part of me won’t get my hopes up, but most of me can’t wait to read new Mom words.

“Pay up, Chao,” Fitz says, emerging from her slumber in fleece pajama pants and my oversized Charlie Brown shirt, her phone queued up with a saved Snap from Molly, a video of Reid and me awkward-dancing last night with the caption Natareid 4 Life!!!

Oh my God. I’m going to kill her.

Hannah holds out her hand too.

Henry rolls his eyes. “Thanks, Nat.” He slaps a twenty in each of their palms.

“We bet on whether you and Reid would dance together,” Delia explains. “Group dancing didn’t count; you had to be, like, holding hands. It was very specific. I thought you’d be stronger.”