Elizabeth is slicing lemons and adding fresh tarragon to homemade tartar sauce when we return. Four empty wineglasses are arranged neatly by the sink. Music I recognize but can’t identify plays through speakers professionally hidden throughout our house.

“This sounds familiar,” I say as Elizabeth kisses me on the cheek. She kisses the boys on their cheeks, too. “It’s from a movie?”

“Dvořák,” says Nick. “New World Symphony.”

Jonah dumps his gear by the door and takes off his shoes. “I’m telling you. This guy is a walking Wikipedia.”

Nick shakes his head. “Nah. I just know a little about a lot.”

This guy.

“Well?” Elizabeth covers the bowl with plastic wrap and hands it to me. “How’d it go?”

“It was fun.” I open the fridge and clear space.

“We caught nothing,” Jonah tells her.

Elizabeth seems genuinely distraught. Charming and ridiculous. “Nothing at all?”

Jonah is all too happy to confirm: “Zilch.”

“Were they biting?”

“Nope.”

“Yes they were,” I insist.

“Nuh-uh.”

“Maybe not for you, but I had a few bites.”

“Sure you did, Dad,” Jonah says, and Elizabeth and Nick laugh, ruling his comment cute rather than disrespectful. I flick Jonah’s ear—cute—and he claps a hand to the side of his face. “Ouch. Jesus, Dad.”

“Robert,” Elizabeth says, turning my name into a threat.

I wink at Nick, forcing him to take my side, forcing him to see that I’m not a punch line in this house. He smiles politely.

“Well,” says Elizabeth, “I thought we could fry up whatever you caught and have fish tacos for dinner, but now we have an excuse to get pizza.”

“Tacos sound good,” I say.

“Let’s get pizza,” says Elizabeth, who never craves pizza.

Jonah’s already casting his vote. “Cheese for me.”

“Nick?” she asks.

“I’ll eat whatever.”

“Robert?”

I give in. What the hell. “Sausage and olive. I’ll pick it up.”

Elizabeth nods. “White with parsley for me.” She seems to be suggesting I should place the order, too. She hands me a corkscrew. “Would you crack open a red?”