Finally, Daniel raced into the restaurant, his suit jacket over his arm, his expression worried as he scanned the room for her. When he saw her, he waved and began to scoot in between the tightly packed tables to get to her. He stumbled over a middle-aged woman’s chair leg and caught himself by bracing himself on her shoulder. “Sorry! Sorry!” he said, pushing his glasses up while the woman frowned at him.

Not exactly the smoothest man in the world, her husband.

He slid into the chair across from her and wiped his forehead. “Oh, yes, I need some of that,” he said, plucking the bottle of wine from the center of the table and filling his glass with a hearty pour. “Code-red-level frustrating day today.” He threw his hands up in the air. “Sometimes, it becomes crystal clear that the only reason we have a philanthropy department is so that the bosses can make themselves look good while they’re screwing over the world. Apparently, I’m a sucker for pushing for meaningful forms of charitable outreach.”

“You’re not a sucker,” Amara said.

The waitress approached, pad and pencil in hand. “Bonne nuit,” she said. “Are you ready to place your order yet?”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “I haven’t even opened the menu.”

“Fine,” the waitress said, exhaling sharply through her nose. “I will come back.” She stalked off toward the rear of the restaurant.

Daniel really looked at Amara for the first time, over the flickering candle on their table. “You’re mad,” he said. “Because I’m late. I really tried to leave on time, but . . .” He shook his head. “Yet another reason why it was a frustrating day.”

“Yes, I’m a little pissy, but I’m going to try not to be,” Amara said. “You’re here now—that’s what matters.”

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said. “Thank you.”

“You know you’re still helping people,” Amara said, resting her hand on his. “You might as well grab as much of the money from Satan’s fat wallet as you can and use it for good.”

“Yeah, I just have to sell my own soul to do it. After a while, Faustian bargains really get you down.”

“Well, we’ve got a night away from Charlie, so let’s try to relax for the moment, all right?” Amara asked.

“Yeah,” Daniel said. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m going to look at the menu so our waitress doesn’t hate us any more than she already does.”

“Good idea,” Amara said, picking hers back up. “Oh, and at some point after we order, I want to talk with you about something.”

“What?” he asked, looking up in concern. “Something bad? Is everything okay with Charlie?”

“Charlie’s fine,” Amara said. “Nothing too serious, really.”

“Okay,” Daniel said, and went back to his menu, scanning the list of entrées for a few seconds before snapping it shut. “Well, now I can’t concentrate on ordering. Tell me what it is.”

She shook her head. “Just a financial question.”

“Ah, yes,” Daniel joked, “you’re going to beg me for a wife bonus, aren’t you?”

“Ha-ha,” Amara said, and then stared at her menu in silence, an ugly panic taking root in her stomach.

“Wait,” Daniel said, leaning forward and staring at her in disbelief. “You’re not, right?”

“No!” She paused. “Not exactly.”

“Mari, just a week ago you were ripping the concept apart!”

“I know!” she said, a defensive edge to her voice. “But I think I was thrown off by the absurd ‘wife bonus’ term, rather than what it actually means. Because when you really think about it, it’s not fair that you’re putting aside money for yourself if I can’t, when I’m working really hard too. That’s all!”

“Hey,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I’m not opposed to us reconfiguring what we do with my income so that you feel like it’s more fair.”

“All right,” Amara said. “Thank you.”

He nodded, then stared at his menu in silence, biting his lip like he always did when something else was bothering him.

“What?” Amara asked.

“Nothing.”

“What?”

He snapped his menu shut. “I feel like you’re implying that I’m making all these unfair financial decisions that hurt you, when I never wanted it to be this way. I’ve always wanted us to be equal partners in this. You’re the one who made a really big financial decision that affected our family without consulting me at all.”

“I know,” Amara said quietly.

“Sometimes I hate my job so much, it feels like a hundred paper cuts on my soul. But I would never quit without talking it through with you first.”

“I’m sorry,” Amara said. “I shouldn’t have done that like I did. But unfortunately I can’t invent a time machine and go back and change it, so I’m not really sure what to do.” She sighed. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m not exactly having a grand old time in my new situation either.”

“Of course it doesn’t make me feel better, Mari. I want you to be thrilled about our life. I just don’t . . . I know being a stay-at-home mom isn’t always a picnic, but from the outside, it looks like you’ve got it pretty good, okay? So maybe I’m a little jealous that you get to hang out with Charlie all day. I’d love to do that and have some time to think about how to start my own business and go to fun playgroups.”

“Oh,” Amara said, her ears getting hot like she’d just rubbed jalapeño juice all over them. “I’m sorry. You think that’s what being a stay-at-home parent is like? That you just ‘hang out’ and Charlie takes long naps and you have plenty of brain space to get a new business off the ground? No, no. I never get a break. That beautiful demon we made needs constant attention, plus I’m always worrying that I’m doing something to screw him up for life. Did you know how much conflicting information is out there, once you go down the parenting-advice rabbit hole? ‘Oh! Co-sleeping is a nice way to bond!’ says one reputable source, while another tells you, ‘Oh, co-sleeping means you’ll smother your baby in the night, murderer.’ At my job, at least I could see if something I was doing worked or if it made the show shit. With Charlie, I’m producing a new twenty-four-hour entertainment episode every day, but who the hell knows the consequences of everything I put into it? We probably won’t see the consequences until ten years from now, and then we’ll realize, Oh fuck! Actually, I should have been teaching him Mandarin!”