Love the One You're With by Emily Giffin

Author:Emily Giffin
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Married Women, Contemporary Women, Chick-Lit, Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Triangles (Interpersonal Relations), Marriage, Adult, Large Type Books
ISBN: 9780312348663
Publisher: St. Martin's Griffin
Published: 2008-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

Somewhere along my short journey from Queens to Manhattan, I go from feeling dejected and forlorn to merely wistful and nostalgic, which is at least a step in the right, repentant direction. But when I push open our apartment door and find Andy in his favorite green-plaid robe, carefully slathering butter on a toaster waffle, I feel nothing but pure, unadulterated, aching guilt. In some strange way, though, it is almost a relief to feel this bad—and proof that I haven’t strayed too far. That at my core, I am still a decent wife.

“Hey, honey,” Andy says, dropping his knife onto the counter and wrapping his arms around me in a so-happy-to-see-me hug. I inhale his sweet boyish scent, so different from Leo’s musky one.

“Hi, Andy,” I say, catching the formality of using his name, something couples almost never seem to do unless they are angry or calling one another from another room. Then I make it worse by asking, in a tone more accusatory than pleasantly surprised, what he’s doing up so early. I just can’t help thinking that this would be an easier, less abrupt transition if he were still asleep.

“I missed you,” he says, kissing my forehead. “I don’t sleep well without you …”

I smile and tell him I missed him, too, but the sinking realization that this is nothing short of a lie—that I did not miss my husband at all—gives my guilt a tinge of panic. I reassure myself that that might have been the case even if I hadn’t seen Leo. After all, it was a short, intense trip. I had serious work to do. I was spending quality time with my sister. I met and photographed Drake Watters, for goodness’ sake. Under these circumstances, not pining away for your spouse seems fairly normal, even predictable. I reassure myself that the one left behind in the same, everyday surroundings always misses the other more. To this point, I definitely feel a bit lonely when Andy is away on business trips.

“You hungry?” Andy asks.

I nod, thinking that this, too, is predictable when you stay up all night and eat only a pack of peanuts.

“Here. Eat this,” he says, gesturing toward his waffle.

“No. That’s yours,” I say adamantly. Because after all, it’s one thing to hold an ex-boyfriend’s hand during a romantic, middle of the night, transcontinental flight—it’s another to steal an Eggo from your hungry husband.

“No, you take this one,” he says, drizzling syrup in a cursive E across the face of the waffle.

I think of how I took Leo’s bills in the back of the cab, and decide that I can’t very well accept his money and turn down this offer from Andy.

“Okay, thanks,” I say, selecting a fork from our utensil drawer, then leaning against the counter to take a bite.

Andy watches me chew. “Is it good?” he asks earnestly, as if he were a chef, and this a taste test for his latest culinary innovation. I relax and smile my first real,

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