Page 82 of Just Not That Into Billionaires

She’s grinning. There’s this feeling bubbling in my chest, and I don’t know what it is.

Until I realize it’s happiness.

God, our marriage is such a mirage, and I’m drinking it all in. I’m splashing in it. I can’t stop. I lean over and brush my lips over hers.

Her hands curl around my lapels and she pulls me to her.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” A voice. Aaron.

We pull apart.

“Didn’t realize it was showtime,” he mumbles.

I give him a hard look.

He turns to Francine. “Monica and Britney want suggestions for ballet schools. I told them that you’d know. They’re talking about sending their girls toBallez Over Americaor something like that?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” she says. “That’s a scam!”

“Not what Monica says.”

“Oh, man!” She heads over, leaving me with Aaron, who has some bullshit to say about Juliana. Moving up the signing.

“What are you doing?” I bark. I’m not a moron; he deliberately interrupted that kiss.

“What?” he asks, blue eyes wide and innocent.

“Fine.” I walk off. Another beauty of being me is that I don’t have to make excuses when I leave. I grab another beer.

What’s up with Aarontryingto intervene? I’ve always known he was manipulative, but did I have my head buried so deeply in my ass I didn’t see him trying to manage me? Is he trying to hasten the sale to Juliana because he doesn’t want me to think it through? To think about the larger picture?

Alan, our host, comes up. “You know what I don’t understand?” he asks.

“Topiary transportation?” I ask.

“You two,” he says. “You have such independent lives, but when you’re together, anyone can see the sparks fly. Do you have a secret of some sort?”

“If you’re asking for relationship advice, you’re in the wrong place,” I say.

“Am I? Plenty of people I’m looking at right now spend less than half the year with their spouses. Some of them spend zero time at all. But they’re not like you two. It always seemed extreme that you didn’t bring her around, that you led such separate lives. But it’s not the quantity, it’s the quality, isn’t it? You have chemistry, but also this friendship. You like each other. You laugh together.”

Francine’s the one laughing. Over across the roof, she’s laughing, gesturing, pointing north, probably in the direction of whatever ballet school she’s recommending. I think to tell him it’s a charade. But even if I was in the mood to let him in on the secret, it’s not entirely true that it’s all a charade. We have chemistry. We have friendship. We have history. We’re attracted to each other. We laugh together. We lead separate lives, yet we’re married.

“Or do you work well as a couplebecauseyou’re apart so much?” Alan asks. “Do you wish you were together?”

I stare across the rooftop at her, bathed in the festive lights strung overhead like giant stars.

Yes. I wish we were together.

The thought forms before I can think better of it. I’d risk it. I’d risk the hurt. The pain. I’d risk all of it.

The thought hits me like a sledgehammer.

Eventually she’s back and Alan takes off to do host things. I coax her to a couch. She needs to not be standing.

“You remembered my mania about the whole ‘getting up from a lying position without your hands’ thing,” she says. “I didn’t even remember that.”

“I remember. Every time I do it.”

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