Mickey beams, clearly pleased with himself.

“My baby boy and his pasta.”

The familiar voice comes from just behind Mickey’s chair.

Bette and Tina look up simultaneously.

Michelle strolls toward the table, her purse hanging from one shoulder, a pleasant smile settling across her face as she approaches her son.

“Mommy!” Mickey exclaims, his entire face lighting up.

Michelle’s smile widens immediately. “Hey, sweetie.” She leans down and carefully lifts Mickey from his high chair, settling him against her hip as he eagerly wraps his little arms around her neck.

Bette and Tina exchange a quick glance.

Michelle kisses Mickey’s cheek, then the other, before planting another affectionate kiss on his forehead. “Oh, Mommy misses you, baby,” she murmurs, hugging him close.

Mickey giggles and squirms happily in her arms. “I eat spaghetti!” he announces.

Michelle laughs softly. “I heard you, sweetheart. You and your spaghetti.”

She brushes a hand over his curls, then looks down at Angie. “Hi, Angie.”

Angie smiles politely and gives her a little wave. “Hi.”

Michelle returns the smile, then slowly turns her attention toward Bette.

Bette sits leaned back in her chair, one long leg crossed over the other, her menu resting loosely in her lap. Her posture is relaxed, although the expression on her face becomes noticeably less enthusiastic as Michelle’s gaze settles on her.

“Hey, B.”

“Hi,” Bette replies shortly.

Michelle’s smile falters for the briefest moment before she turns toward Tina.

Their eyes meet across the table. Neither woman speaks.

Tina holds her wineglass near her cheek, her fingers curled around the stem as she studies Michelle over the rim. The pleasant expression she wore only moments earlier has disappeared, replaced by a cool, unmistakable disdain.

Michelle lifts her chin slightly, returning the look with equal determination.

For several uncomfortable seconds, the two women stare at each other, neither appearing particularly interested in being the first to look away. The tension between them is almost comically obvious.

Bette initially glances back down at her menu, but when the silence stretches a little too long, she looks up again. Her eyes move from Michelle to Tina…then back to Michelle. She knows that look on Tina’s face and, judging by Michelle’s expression, she’s fairly certain neither woman is more than one poorly chosen sentence away from turning an otherwise pleasant family dinner into a spectacle.