Page 65 of The New Couple in 5B

No. That’s not Max.

He’s as solid as they come.

But anxiety for his wellness has me considering the schlep out to Brooklyn when Chad texts.

Hey. Come home, okay?

My glass is empty; there’s a man with a shaved head and lots of gold jewelry eyeing me from across the bar. Max is my dearest friend. But Chad is my husband, and we need to talk. The call is an easy one. I pay the bill and head home.

nineteen

When I arrive, the apartment is full of roses. Roses in the foyer, on the coffee table in the living room. On the windowsill, by the bed. Chad is waiting on the couch, looking buff in a tight black T-shirt and his favorite worn jeans. He rises when I come in, and I head straight into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?” I ask into the soft fabric of his T-shirt.

“For everything. For being so wrapped up in work, gone all the time, not honest with you about the apartment. Fighting with you last night when I should have been supporting you.”

“I’m sorry, too,” I say. “We’ve been through a lot. You’ve been through a lot with me.”

“No,” he says, looking at me intensely. “I’mnothingwithout you.”

The air is full of the scent of the flowers he brought. I won’t say what I’m thinking. We can’t afford so many flowers. Instead, I touch my finger to one of the petals. “These are stunning. Thank you.”

He kisses me, on my forehead, on my lips, pulls me in tight again. Dr. Black says that it’s not the fight that matters as much as how well you make up, if you understand each other better after.

Do we?

“I have bad news,” I say, sinking onto the couch. He frowns.

“Well,” he answers, sitting beside me. “I have good news. You go first.”

I tell him about Max, and he takes it in stride.

“I’m sorry for Max,” he says when I’m done. “But you still have your contract, right? And who knows, maybe you’ll benefit from working with someone who’s—not so close to you, right?”

I try not to bristle at this. I know he doesn’t always love my relationship with Max. And maybe part of him is glad for this change. But it’s not a good thing. There’s no way to cast it as such.

I shrug. “Maybe. It’s just such an intimate relationship, so collaborative.”

“You’ll work together again,” he says easily. “Just not on this book.”

He’s right, of course. The publishing industry is a small one and shrinking all the time with constant mergers. We’ll work together again. And in the meantime, we’ll just be friends. I soften and allow myself to hear Chad’s point of view. Maybe a fresh perspective will be positive.

I am about to tell him about how Max stood me up tonight, that I’m worried about him and need to call again. But I don’t get the chance.

“Okay,” he says, beaming. “Now for the good news.”

My heart thrums a little, with nerves, excitement. For effect, he gets down on his knees and takes my hands.

“My audition. I got the part, Rosie. And it’s huge. I’m the lead in a new series calledThe Hollowsabout a detective and a medium who solve cold cases together. It’s based on a true story. A major director, writer, network. This isit. The thing we’ve been working for.”

I let out an excitedwhoopand we’re doing a happy dance around the living room. He dashes off to the kitchen and comes back with a chilled bottle of Veuve and two champagne flutes, pops the cork and fills our glasses.

“This is one of those moments, right?” he says. “When the good thing happens? Like the day we met, or the day I proposed, and you said yes, your rave review in theNew York Times. Let’s be completely present for it.”

We clink glasses and drink; the champagne is cold and dry, tingling on my tongue, down my throat. Just a sip won’t hurt; I’m probably not even pregnant, the test still unused in the bathroom cabinet.

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