“I’ll be there too. And it’s not like I’m suggesting we go camping in the Sahara. There will be help.”
“Oh no, this isn’t the camping part. That comes after.” That was part two of Jay’s lunacy. After the trip to India, they backpacked around Europe. Or rented an RV and drove across the US. It varied, but it was like the man who loathed all social media had been spending all his time following #Airstreamlove and #havekidswilltravel. He’d be wanting a tiny house next.
“I can’t even process this right now, Jay. I mean, I just got basically fired. I know that fits in with your dreams”—she refrained, barely, from saying stupid dreams—“but it wasn’t in mine, okay?”
“We don’t have to camp. I just—look, Mae, I know you. I’m sorry this happened. But it did, and now you’re going to make choices because of it, and I want in on that.” He picked up his fork, then set it down. “Don’t you see? I’m just trying to buy us both some time.”
“I don’t want time,” she said, unable to keep her voice from sounding sharp. “The Sparkling thing is—a setback. But it’s just a small setback. I know you hate your job, Jay, but I don’t. I don’t want to tear everything up and start over.”
“But I do.”
His words hung between them for a moment—two children of single parents, two people who’d promised each other that whatever they did, they’d do it together, that their kids would never feel the way they had.
Jay looked down at his plate, took a bite, chewed. Mae bet he couldn’t taste it. She couldn’t even pretend to eat. “The lamb is good. I think the kids would like it, actually. I like the carrots.” Mae could tell he was trying to take the weight away from what he had just said. It wasn’t working. “Okay,” he said, “your turn. You said you had a plan. Spill.”
“I made enough to freeze,” Mae said, “They’ll get some.” Her plan sounded absurd now, after the argument they were having, but she couldn’t think of another way to present it. “The thing is,” she said, “my plan would make things so easy for you. I know this last deal was rough, and you’re about to get staffed on another one, so I’m taking the kids with me to visit my mother, and you’ll get to just—be here. Bachelor it. Whenever you’re not working, no us to worry about. I thought that would just take some of the pressure off, right? Give you room to hear yourself think.”
“I can’t hear myself think because I’m at work all the time,” Jay said. “You don’t want to go see my mom, but you’re running off to see yours? Wait—back up. You haven’t been to Kansas since Frank died. This isn’t about me. Why would you— Tell me why you’re going, Mae.” He shoved another bite of stew in his mouth, angrily, chewing and watching her. Waiting.
This was it. Time to go big or go home. Jay hated Sparkling and all that went with it, from the hundreds of thousands of followers it brought to Mae’s Instagram feed to the invitations that she and the kids do sponsored posts, the family photo shoots, the increased need for hours from Jessamyn, their nanny—hours that Mae’s income covered but that he objected to just the same. With Food Wars, Mae could keep all that going, and she would need to, since at this point every time he left the apartment, she wondered if he would still have a job when he came back. But Jay was not likely to be enthused.
She forced a note of excitement into her voice, as though she expected him to welcome her news. “Well, I might not be doing Sparkling for a while, but my sister called, and Food Wars is doing a series of shows about my mom’s restaurant, in Kansas. They need me to go home and help out.”
Jay had picked up his glass while she spoke, sipping champagne, or pretending to. His eyebrows went straight up, and he let out a fast breath as he set down the glass, hard. His face was disbelieving, his tone flat. “They need you to go home and help with another reality show,” he said. He didn’t roll his eyes, but his look conveyed his disdain for the entire world Mae had become a part of.
“My mom really wants to do this,” she said. Damn it, he should be excited. It was a miracle that she could get back into TV, and so quickly, and he should respect her willingness to jump on it. He’d loved this part of her once. Loved her drive at the consulting firm, her ideas for her own business and the way she had launched it when Ryder turned one, growing it fast into a book deal and influencer status and practically a mini-empire.
Now all he ever wanted was for her to pull back and slow down. She pushed on, trying to reach the old Jay somewhere in all of this disapproval. “And for me, Jay, it comes at just the right time! Sparkling will see how valuable I am, and if they don’t, I can leverage this instead. You know how it is—it’s always easier to get a job when you’ve got a job.”
Jay glared at her, and she realized, too late, that her words probably sounded like yet another dig at his desire to take some time off “without boundaries.” She rushed on. “And my sister hasn’t done anything much since Frank died. She’s just stuck there, doing the same thing every day. This is a chance to help her finally get out of that rut.”
This time, Jay did roll his eyes. “Let me get this straight. You lost a TV show today, and your sister, who you haven’t visited in at least six years, has gained one. So you’re suddenly all revved to head home and be a part of it, and you’re trying to convince me you’re doing it for your sister and I should like it? That’s bullshit.” He pushed his plate away. “This is all bullshit, Mae. You’ve already said you’ll go, haven’t you? Already bought tickets. This isn’t you even asking me if you can take the kids off to be another sideshow somewhere. It’s you telling me. I bet you’re packed already, aren’t you? Tell me you’re not packed.”
Mae glanced toward the hall closet, where she’d tucked the suitcases, and felt her face get hot. “I did make plans, because we really have to go. This is a big chance for my mom and my sister—apparently business isn’t too great—and it’s a chance for me, and so what? I’m paying for it. I bought the tickets. I’m paying for Jessa to come with us. You don’t even have to worry about it. You just get some kid-free time to do your own thing.”
“You’re going to Kansas. And you’re taking the kids. To be on a reality show. And you didn’t even wait to ask me?” Jay’s voice was getting louder. “What if I’d worked late tonight? Would I just wake up in the morning and find a little note?” He shoved his chair away from the table and got up. “I hate this. I hate you not telling me things. I hate that now you’re going to take the kids, and there will be posed airport pictures, and cute little traveling memes or whatever, and then you’ll send them off with Jessa in some strange town while you try to get more fucking famous. You’ve got plenty of followers. When is it ever going to be enough?”