Page 50 of Mom Com

As the minutes march toward eight o’clock, my stomach ties itself in knots. Why did I agree to this? I stick my thumbnail in my mouth and pull it back out, glancing once more toward the living room window.

“So, can I come?” Spence asks for the many-ith time, plopping down on the couch next to me and stealing half my blanket.

“Not this time, little dude. But next time for sure,” I say, even though I don’t anticipate there being a next time.

He sighs dramatically and rests his head on my shoulder. “Fiiiine. But if you go to the bakery, please bring something delicious home with you.”

I smile against the top of his head. “You got it.”

He sits up then, and I immediately miss the snuggle. “So, what’s the deal with Wilder anyway?”

“Deal?” I say, even though I’ve said these exact words on more than one occasion. Spence really is my mini-me.

“You know what I mean,” he says.

“It’s kinda complicated,” I say, not sure I even understand the whole of it. “But essentially, we grew up together. We were best friends when we were kids. If you can believe it, we spent more time together than you, Max, and Nando.”

He looks skeptical. “So what happened?”

I shrug. “We got in a big fight. Lots of them, actually. And it was right before I moved out to California, so we never resolved it.”

“Did you ever say sorry?”

I smile, wishing things were as uncomplicated as all that. “More like he didn’t.”

“Well, he should.”

“I agree.”

“And you’d forgive him?”

The question catches me off guard. No one has ever asked me that. “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

“Why do you sound unsure?”

“Because not all fights can be resolved with an apology.”

He looks at me like I’m flat-out wrong. “That’s not what you told me. You said that the only thing people can really do when they’ve messed up is apologize. Punishing them for their mistakes never solved any problems.”

I laugh. “So, you just memorize my words and then use them against me?”

“I listen.”

I pull him in and smother his cheek with kisses. “Oh, how I love that brain of yours.”

He pushes me away with a big grin. “Get in line,” he says like he’s a celebrity, and dusts off his shoulder.

We both laugh, but mine is cut short when I glimpse a truck pulling into Mom’s driveway. Spence follows my eyeline and instantly springs up.

“Dad!” he declares, sending a flash of anxiety through me. I check my phone. There are no messages from Jake asking if he can stop by. And to make matters worse, it’s 7:55 p.m.

I stand, following Spence to the door, which he flings open for Jake.

“Come in! Come in!” Spence says, all aglow.

Jake knocks the snow off his boots and steps into the foyer. “I was driving home and I found this on the floor of my truck.” He pulls Spence’s headphone adapter out of his pocket. “Thought it might be important.”

Spence’s face lights up. “I was looking for that!”