Page 76 of Mom Com

“Just water, please,” I say.

“Same,” Wilder agrees. “And a big basket of fries, with all the dipping sauces.”

I give him a look, wondering if he simply wanted a snack or if he’s appealing to my love of condiments.

Benny takes leave of us with a nod, and once again it’s just me and Wilder. For a moment we’re both quiet.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.

“The fries? They really are amazing, and they hand make all their sauces, so.”

I give him a look likeyou know what I mean.

A small knowing smile appears on his lips, and he scratches the back of his neck. “Truth? I just didn’t want you to think Benny’s attitude was a shared one.”

“Oh,” I say, shifting in my seat, not expecting him to explain.

But he doesn’t stop there. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I know you care what the people in this town think,” he says, and I can feel my shoulders rise an inch.

“I think you’re confusing me with my mother,” I say, trying to exit the conversation as fast as possible.

Wilder shakes his head. “I don’t mean the way your mother does. I mean that you’re sensitive when it comes to this place. That you care. And I didn’t want you to feel like people think badly of you here, because they don’t. Everyone’s just excited you’re back, even if they express it badly.”

I stare at him, my heart thumping like a persistent headache, as he casually voices my insecurity. “That’s not... I don’t—” I stop, drawing in air and releasing it again. “Don’t do that,” I say instead, feeling exposed. “Don’t act like you know what I’m thinking.”

Benny shows back up then, placing the water and two cups on the table, filling them both as we say a quick thank you.

Benny walks away and Wilder picks up where we left off. “I’m not your enemy, Maddi. At least I don’t want to be.”

It’s so close to what my mother said yesterday that I balk, my impossibly fast pulse sounding all the alarms. And I can’t understand how we got back here, how five minutes with Wilder and I’m on the defensive like I was a career footballer.

“I don’t think you’re my enemy,” I manage, my voice less confident.

“Don’t you?” he asks, and it sounds so genuine that I hesitate. Because he’s not exactly wrong.

“It’s just...” I start. “When I saw you in my dad’s bakery. I don’t know. I...” I trail off, not sure I can vocalize how jarring that was, how it was something I once wished for so badly that seeing it all these years later in this distorted context felt like a betrayal.

The worry line between his eyebrows appears. “Is that the problem?” he asks. “Is that what you want? For me to give up the bakery?”

My eyes find his, more shocked than anything. I know I haven’t exactly hidden how annoyed I was that he was in my father’s will, but that was when I was angry, cut to the core that Wilder somehow became favored over me with my own parents. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

He looks briefly out the window and then back to me. “If it’s what you really want, if it meant you would stay, then yes... I would,” he says, and suddenly I can’t breathe. I hear his words, but I don’t understand them. Didn’t he tell me just the other day that the bakery was and is his dream, that no matter what he did or where he went in the world that it didn’t make him happy the way Nothing Batter does?

“Wilder—” I say, barely managing his name. I rub my forehead, unable to ignore the huge sacrifice he’s willing to make for me. And the longer I look at him, the worse my overwhelm gets. My breath comes unevenly and everything feels tight, like someone placed a giant anvil directly on my chest. “I don’t want you to give up the bakery. You love it.” I swallow. “And the bakery should be loved. My dad—” I stop, unable to get out the wordswould have wanted it that way.

The look of worry on his face only fans the flames of my shame. The awful truth now hangs between us, that Wilder loved the bakery when I couldn’t, that even now he’s willing to disappoint his family and fight them tooth and nail just to run it.Thatis probably why my dad left him half of it because Wilder was right that day in my dining room when he said the difference between us was that he wanted it.

I shake my head, unable to look at him, terrified my thoughts are showing on my face and that I’ll break down in the middle of the goddamn Beach Shack. “I’m sorry,” I say, leaving becoming a visceral need. “But I don’t think I can do this. I think I need to go.” I’ll just tell Liv I didn’t have it in me, that I decided a long time ago to shut all this out. And that to bear that kind of weight again, to risk shattering my heart a second time, is not something I’m capable of.

“Maddi,” Wilder says, but I’m already out of my chair gathering my things.

“I don’t want to ruin your night,” I say, barely able to look at him, trying to escape before my emotions get the better of me. “You ordered fries. You should enjoy them.”

But he’s standing with me, pulling money out of his wallet, and placing it on the table with what appears to be a very generous tip for Benny.

I hadn’t even considered the check. “Let me pay—”

But he shakes his head. “I got this one,” he says, still being way too generous about the fact that I’m bolting. “I’ll walk you out.”