“I’m really sorry,” I said as I put Ari’s plate in front of him.

He looked up at me blankly. “For what?”

“Supper.”

He looked bewildered. “You can’t burn a tuna sandwich, why are you sorry?”

“Because this is not real supper. It’s a tuna sandwich with tomatoes that I miraculously have in the apartment. I don’t even remember buying them.”

Ari opened up the sandwich and removed the tomato slices. “I don’t like tomatoes with tuna,” he said apologetically. “And I bought the tomatoes last week, but if you want it to be a miracle, I never said that.”

I plopped into the seat opposite to him. “Now it’s just a tuna sandwich. On rye bread.” Did I really just wail over a tuna sandwich?

“I can add some adjectives if that’ll make you feel better, like fresh, wholesome, or something. But really, I don’t get what the problem is.” Ari washed, then took a bite. “Scrumdidliumptious.”

I could feel a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, but I couldn’t let him charm me into feeling better over this.

“The problem is that I didn’t make supper tonight, I gave you frozen pizza last night, and I’m just so busy, the idea of supper happening tomorrow night feels like a pipe dream.”

“Who cares, do you see me complaining? If I need supper I can cook or buy it, too. I’m a big boy.” He flashed a hyperbolic toothy grin.

I laughed. “You’re sweet,” I said, picking up my own sad sandwich. “But just because you’re okay with it, doesn’t mean that I should be okay with it.”

“Okay, beat yourself up if you want to.” Ari shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich.

I shook my head a bit, but told myself to be quiet, if Ari’s fine, I should run with it. Still feel like an epic failure on the wife front, though.

“How’s the last final days of work going?” Ari asked. I twitched a shoulder and turned my head to the side.

“It’s almost over, just gotta push through. I think I got a new client, though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, last week DeeDee showed me the social media account of a new beauty cream company that announced they just got into Macy’s, so I figured they were new enough and small enough, but potentially lucrative enough for me to try, so I reached out, had a few lunch meetings, pitch, proposal, whatnot, and we’re working out details now.”

“Cool, really just cool, how you go and do things, make something from nothing.”

I blushed. I mean, I know I’m super competent, but it’s more a smug internal knowledge, people aren’t usually so generous in their compliments.

“Do you get freebies?” Ari asked.

“Are you suggesting I need them?” I asked, sounding more indignant than I intended.

“No, I was thinking of my own dewy epidermis,” Ari said, caressing his cheeks and fluttering his lashes.

I burst out laughing. “You’re nuts,” I said, picking up one tomato slice from Ari’s plate and eating it. I wiped my mouth with a napkin, wondering how to shift the conversation to the fact that I have to leave in five minutes.

(Excerpted from Family First, Issue 626)