The house was quiet and dark. She didn’t bother turning on lights as she went from room to room, picking up toys and putting them away. She still couldn’t quite believe today was going to happen. She’d waited so long, and prayed so hard, for a change in her relationship with Marah that she’d almost given up hope. Tully, and this program, had given it back to her. Even Johnny seemed optimistic. He’d done as Tully asked—or demanded, actually—and relinquished control over the segment. For this one broadcast, he was going to be simply an audience member, a father supporting his family.

In the bathroom, after she’d taken a shower and gotten dressed, Kate stared at herself in the mirror, trying not to notice the lines that had begun to collect in the corners of her eyes as she practiced what she would say. “That’s right, Tully. I’ve given up my career to be an at-home mom. Frankly, I think it would have been easier to work.”

The audience would laugh at that.

“I still want to be a writer someday, but it’s so hard to balance work and motherhood. And Marah needs me more now than she did as a toddler. Everyone talks about the terrible twos, but in my house, it’s the terrible teens. I miss the days when I could put her in a playpen and know that she was safe.”

A murmur of agreement would certainly follow that remark.

She went downstairs, made breakfast for everyone, and set it out on the table. The boys were down the stairs in record time, clambering over each other in their quest for the perfect chair.

When Marah came downstairs, clearly excited for the taping, Kate couldn’t contain her excitement.

This was going to work. She knew it.

“Stop grinning, Mom. You’re creeping me out,” Marah said, pouring milk into her oatmeal bowl and carrying it to the table.

“Leave your mom alone,” Johnny said, walking past her. He paused behind Kate, squeezed her shoulders, and kissed the back of her neck. “You look gorgeous.”

She turned and put her arms around him, gazing into his eyes. “I’m glad you’re going to be my husband today and not her producer. I need you in the audience.”

“Don’t thank me. Tully pushed me completely on the outside. No one on-set is allowed to tell me anything or show me a script. Tully wants me to be surprised.”

From that moment on, the day flew forward like the Millennium Falcon in hyperspace. It wasn’t until they were on the ferry, crossing the bay, that she started to get nervous.

The audience would laugh at her, say she should have done more with her life, been more.

She’d look fat.