From the corner of my eye, I see Jessica swing her foot up under the kitchen counter to connect with William’s shin. He shouts, and I’m frantically snapping my fingers at Jessie and pointing fiercely at William, a jab-jab of my finger in his direction to make him release his sister’s throat and sit down again. “I’m sure Daniel doesn’t want to lose any more of his assets to a woman.”

“But Melinda’s successful.”

“She’s twenty-nine.”

“And?”

“Come on, Kris. You were a lawyer, too. At what point did you stop practicing law?” I don’t even need Kristine to answer this one, I know the answer already. When Kris got married and had her first baby, she stopped working to stay home with Andrew.

Kris falls quiet. “You think she wants kids?”

“She’s twenty-nine. And a woman.”

Hip against the counter, phone pressed to my ear, I watch Jessie lean toward William, stick out her tongue, and hold back her nose, revealing two stretched nostrils. Lovely. My children are so well behaved.

William goes quiet and red, the quiet before a storm, and I know I have to get off the phone before there’s bloodshed. “So you’re coming tonight?”

Kris sighs. “I’ll be there.”

“Good.”

“Do you want me to bring anything? Appetizer? Dessert?”

“Just yourself.”

After getting off the phone, I cross my arms and stare down my nose at the kids, giving both a severe look. “What was that about?”

Jessie and William settle into their seats and smile at me angelically. “Nothing, Mommy.”

Nothing, my ass.

I’m just about to launch into a tirade when I realize I’m going to throw up. Again.

Nic arrives first, then Anne, and finally Kris. They stand around the kitchen while I serve the salads and pour the white wine. Anne helps me carry the plates, Kris takes the glasses, and Nic follows with the silverware.

We sit in the living room, picking the comfiest chairs and spots on the sofa to balance our plates on our laps. I was raised to think that a meal wasn’t a proper meal if you weren’t at the dining room table, but I’ve broken that rule now that I live alone. I like eating on the couch, like sitting cross-legged with the wineglass just behind my shoulder on the sofa table, not that I’m going to drink my wine tonight.

We’ve barely begun to eat when Kris dives right in. “So, what’s the big news?”

Anne waves her glass of wine before taking a drink. “Does your news have anything to do with you not drinking for the past few weeks?”