Lisa sat with her hands clasped on their dark blue IKEA couch. It had been one of the first purchases they’d made together. Despite the spit-up stains and uneven bulges from long late-night newborn nursing sessions, it had been her life raft providing both safety and refuge. She’d never felt comfortable in the kitchen and was even less certain in the bedroom, but here in the living room, resting on $300 worth of imported polyester, she’d also felt 100% at home.

She remembered how much fun those first few months of marriage had been and was embarrassed to admit to herself that being a Mrs. had given her a sense of completion, accomplishment. Despite the fantastic work of three waves of feminism, it had still been her dream to walk down the aisle and prove that was was, in fact, normal.

Marrying Tom had made her feel like a real, OK person. A functioning member of society. For the first time, Lisa had a place in life. She felt protected by his last name and treasured by the idea of being someone’s wife.

Now she was no one’s anything.

With that ridiculous thought, Gracie let out a sneeze in her sleep as if to remind her mother that she was definitely somebody’s something. Lisa jumped up quietly and listened for a few moments, hoping that her little girl wouldn’t wake herself. The last thing she needed was for Gracie to be awake while she listened to her husband describe the gritty details of his sordid affair.

A familiar searing wave of hot anger and indignation flooded her veins again. How dare he.

Lisa knew she hadn’t been perfect as a wife or mother, but never thought she’d experience this level of betrayal and disrespect. It jarred her soul. In the midst of her feelings of contempt, she noticed something. For the first time, she felt strong. Realizing that there was no one here to defend her, feeling like a woman on a deserted island, she felt compelled to cowgirl up.

All those hear me roar feelings vanished as soon as she heard a soft knock at the door.

How could the man she wanted so much to believe was the evil scum of the earth, the devil’s sidekick, knock so gently, she wondered. She felt compelled to forgive his transgressions based on his remorseful knock alone but instead resisted the urge to answer the door too fast.

Get a hold of yourself, for shit’s sake. He can wait.

Lisa coolly sauntered toward the door and flung it open, a little too dramatically, without looking Tom in the eye. She left him to close it after himself. She sat with her legs under her, skirt tucked behind her feet, on the far edge of the couch. No reason for touching.

Tom drew a deep breath before sinking into the couch. He’d been looking forward to vising the apartment all day. After living in a hotel for the past week he thought being back home would have been more welcoming than it did in that moment. Instead he felt like a prisoner moving from one cell to the next. It was clear that he didn’t live here anymore. He cleared his throat.

“Is Gracie?”

“She’s been asleep since eight.” Lisa had managed to get Gracie to bed on time and was quick to share her accomplishment. She was surprised and a bit sickened that she still craved his approval.

“Oh wow. Good for you.”

“So. Go ahead. You wanted to explain.”

Tom turned toward Lisa and attempted to take her hand. She was so startled by the unexpected affection that she drew her hands back like a young girl afraid of cooties.

“Lisa, I don’t even know where to begin. I…I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you’ve tried to do and be. I see now that I was starving, dying in this relationship and hope that one day you’ll realize that sometimes these things are meant to happen.”

Lisa cocked her head, confused. This wasn’t the admission and apology she was expecting. Where was he going with this?

Thomas continued. “It’s clear to me now that we were never right for each other. Instead of pursuing my dreams, traveling, becoming the artist that my college professors always told me I could be, I settled for-”

Lisa could barely control her growing disbelief at where this conversation was going, “Settled for what? Me? Gracie?”

Sensing her anger, Thomas began to slowly rise.”This wasn’t a good idea. I don’t want to upset you while you’re in this state.”

He motioned toward her abdomen.

“Nicole is waiting for me downstairs.”

Lisa felt as if someone had sucker punched her in the stomach and a followed quickly with a hard left jab to her temple. He said her name. She swallowed hard and was surprised when she didn’t taste her blood or cut her tongue on broken teeth.

“I want you to know that no matter what happens, you’re going to be OK. If anything, life will get easier knowing you have us to raise Gracie with you.”

Lisa wanted to say something but suddenly just finding air in the room seemed like a challenge. Her body may have been sitting on an old lumpy couch but in her mind she was living Alice’s descent down the rabbit hole into a strange, alternate universe. Complete free fall.

Thomas glanced toward the bedroom. “Is it OK if I peek in at Gracie and grab some of my supplies…things.”

This was really happening. Lisa was dumbfounded. She nodded, in a daze.

Thomas quietly went back toward the front door and retrieved a large, empty cardboard box that had been waiting in the hallway before going about his business.

Lisa desperately wanted to appear busy but was afraid that she’d faint if she stood. Hands shaking, she pulled her cell phone out of her sweatshirt pocket and sent out an SOS with the only words she could manage, “Help me.”

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Not many people even knew that the hidden table behind a thick velvet velour curtain for the privacy of esteemed guests existed. Ironically enough, Meeghan had never cared much for the shrouded VIP dining accommodations. The thought of savoring breadsticks where so many Russian, Spanish, and French mistresses had probably also enjoyed the….breadsticks of philandering wealthy American athletes and businessmen turned her off. Who knows, maybe Max had entertained other woman in what was at one time their special spot.

The hostess stopped in front of the heavy burgundy curtain and pulled it back discreetly, motioning for Meeghan to enter. She was surprised by the butterflies in her stomach.

Max was usually entranced by his phone, checking his stock portfolio, when Meeghan arrived for dinner out but this time, he shocked his soon-to-be ex wife by meeting her gaze. He’d been waiting. A small part of her wanted to be flattered but she squelched the blossom of fangirl happiness that welled up in her psyche quickly. He had an agenda and phase #1 was turning her to putty, that much she knew. It only took a few seconds for her to remember what the last 15 years had been like to recoat her heart in steel.

Max stood, always the gentlemen, “Good evening, dear.”

Meeghan didn’t answer but took a a seat. She was uncomfortable by the intimate surroundings. Directly beside their fully adorned and candlelit private dining table was a creamy chocolate leather chaise. With room for two. Meegan often wondered why the restaurant owners didn’t just skip the pleasantries and install a fold out double bed.

Max smoothed his tie before sitting down. As usual, he looked like he’d just stepped off the pages of GQ; perfectly coiffed. He definitely looked every bit of his 52 years on Earth but, Meeghan noticed with disdain that he’d just gotten better with age.

“I appreciate you accepting my dinner invitation and just wanted to say,” Max began, taking control of the conversation.

“I’d love to order a glass of wine,” Meegan murmured, reaching for the thin black menu. She was delighted to see that her interjection into his speech caught him off guard. He wasn’t used to being interrupted.

“Already taken care of.”

She knew he wasn’t lying and before she could ask what vintage he’d requested, a sommelier cleared his throat as a sign of his presence from the other side of the curtain.

“Please enter,” Max said with all of the authority of a Viking king. Meeghan scowled internally as her former beloved and the fancy bartender did their splash, sip, swish, taste, nod, pour dance.

When they were alone again, this time with glasses full of an Italian winery’s bounty, Max began again.

“As I was saying, I appreciate you dining with me this evening. I’m pleased that despite the recent complications in our relationship-”

“You mean divorce proceedings and me & the kids moving out.”

Meeghan saw a flash of emotion that she’d never seen on Max’s face. Was it shame or regret? She couldn’t decide.

“Label it as you wish. I’m just happy that we can still enjoy each other’s company.”

Whether it was the room growing hot just postponed anger bubbling inside of her, Meeghan felt like a rebellious teen sharing her grievances for the first time.

“Enjoy each other’s company? Max, don’t delude yourself. I’m not here because I wanted bask in your effervescent glory, I’m here because you said you had something to discuss. If you think a $600 dinner is going to convince me to accept some kind of backdoor settlement-.” She stopped, not because he’d interrupted her but because she wasn’t sure what the second part of her threat consisted of.

Max stared patiently.

Meegan went on, “So? What did you want to discuss? I don’t want to get back to the kids and my mom too late.” As usual, she felt like she wasn’t making any sense. They hadn’t even ordered dinner yet and she was acting like they’d been there all day.

They were interrupted by the arrival of the first course, a beautiful plate of prawns served with spring onions & morel mushrooms. The elegant plate was a stark contrast to the awkwardness atmosphere they’d created. Meeghan felt as if it were somehow sacrilegious to ruin such a finely prepared meal with anger. The prawns were so delicately sauteed in pats of herbed butter that they seemed to be beckoning for her full and complete attention. She felt herself being seduced by the dish, even before she’d tasted it.

Max noticing the interaction between his wife and her plate cracked a small smile at the precise moment Meeghan looked up. She flushed with embarrassment and wondered how long she’d been communicating telepathically with her food. Beautiful meals were her weakness.

He diffused her dilemma. “Even if you find it difficult to enjoy me in this moment, please, bon appétit .”

Meeghan hated herself for feeling sheepish but was determined to quiet her inner voices for the purpose of dining pleasure. If not for the etiquette courses Max had purchased for her birthday eight years ago, she wouldn’t have known to use a cocktail fork to pick up the prawns. She could still hear Madame Fournier’s voice in her head, “If a shrimp is smaller than a lady’s baby finger, the fork must be used.”

It only took one bite to send Meeghan into a wave of culinary bliss. If there’s one thing she’d always love about her marriage, it was that it opened up her palette to levels of food pleasure that she’d never experienced or had access to due to. The magical blend that is a five-star chef, Zagat-celebrated restaurant, and local, pristine, ingredients was her own Kundalini awakening.

Three courses later, she felt like she needed a nap and a cigarette. Before she could open her mouth to earnestly thank Max for the evening, a shining silver platter was placed on the table.

Meeghan drew a shaky breath. Pillowy pastel-colored macarons, several small eclairs topped with still wet melted Belgian chocolate, and the pièce de résistance, two small crème brûlées. Their caramelized tops were still bubbling with hot sugar making the creamy custard interior visible. The desserts were surrounded by at least fifteen rich, dusty truffles so delicately coated with cocoa that she could smell the aroma from where she sat.

Meeghan didn’t realize that she’d been holding her breath until a desperate exhalation of C02 left her lungs. Without moving her head, her eyes rose to meet Max’s. She knew it was love for the food, not the man sitting across the table that she was overcome with in the moment but she couldn’t help herself.

By the time they returned to their meal, the crème brûlée had cooled off. The shell shattered against Max’s spoon and was the second thing to be tapped and devoured in the evening.

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“Why come to a cafe if every single noise is going to get your panties in a bunch?” she thought to herself.

Her anxiety was building up. In ten minutes she’d be negotiating her dream businesses with her new business partner…and good friend, Dawn. The idea of mixing work and pleasure would have appealed to her if she’d felt that she and Dawn were on the same level of savvy when it came to wheeling and dealing. Alas, the only people she’d ever haggled with were vegetable farmers. She felt out of her league.

Just when River was beginning to contemplate jumping out of her seat and onto the next plane to Bora Bora, Dawn fluttered down like a spinning fall leaf, a leaf in a designer pantsuit.

“Howdy partner!” Dawn slurred in the best imitation a native Californian could ever hope to do a of a southern cowboy.

River smiled shyly, as if they’d first met, “Howdy…you’re in a good mood.”

Dawn lifted her index finger to summon the waitress. “Well, how could I not be? I’ve finally gotten my life figured out.” She lowered her voice to “naughty secret” level. “Have you ever heard of a ‘commuter marriage’?

River mimicked her dramatic tone, “No.”

Dawn pressed her back against the chair and resumed a normal voice level. “You’re about to. Rick’s taking an anchor position in Canada, and I’m staying here with Charlie.”

Suddenly River didn’t feel like the incompetent one. “Wow, congrats…wait, are you serious? Does Rick know about this? How will you-.”

The waitress placed a menu on the table, Dawn snatched it up, annoyed.

“Oh calm down. Don’t be so dramatic. It’s actually not that uncommon you know, for families like mine.”

River stared at her friend. “Like yours?”

Dawn shifted in her chair, wondering how a rock and hard place could come out of nowhere. “Families who have reached a certain level of public significance.”

River felt a bit nauseous and was more sure than ever that this partnership was a mistake.

“Anyway,” Dawn continued pulling papers out of her agenda, “I’m not even sure why I brought that up. Overshare! Let’s get these contracts signed and talk shop! Are you excited or what? I wouldn’t call myself ‘eco-conscious’ but I’m almost positive that the homeless take all the cans out of our outside trash. Mail order green catalog- it’s going to be a huge success.”

Dawn was so engrossed in her monologue that she hadn’t seen River pay for her tea and begin packing up her things.

“So do you have the contract?”

Dawn presented it to River proudly and suddenly noticed that her friend was standing. River coolly took the document and folded it before placing it in her hemp tote.

“I’ll have my lawyer look it over and get back to you.”

Dawn stood and turned to on-the-move River. “What? Where are you going? You have a lawyer?

Navigating through the chair and table cafe jungle, River called back, “Yes, those of us with little social significance can have lawyers. Talk to you soon!”

And with that, Dawn was alone.

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The living room was empty and Meeghan cautiously peeled off her jacket and placed her bag on the couch before creeping into the kitchen. Peter, Melanie and her mother were already seated around the small round table.

“Mom mom mom!” Melanie waved happily.

Peter, engrossed in texting, glanced up to acknowledge his mother.

Meeghan pulled out a chair next to her mom. “So sorry I’m late, after court I did a bit of shopping….”.

She froze mid-sentence when she heard the toilet flush in the hall bathroom.

“Is someone here?”

Peter and Melanie looked up- sensing drama.

Grandma spoke, “Well-”

Max sauntered in the room, unrolling his sleeves.

“Meeghan, how nice of you to finally join us.”

Meeghan shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Hi”.

“I thought I’d catch you after court but you slipped away pretty quickly.”

“I just did some-”.

Max pulled out his chair and had a seat.

“Shopping. I know. Your credit card charges show up on my Blackberry.”

Max took a calm sip of water.

Meeghan eyed her mother who averted her eyes. The children pretended not to be listening.

“Charming. All business as usual.”

Meeghan’s mother rose. “Thank you so much for coming by, Max. Kids definitely need to spend time with their father.”

Max stood and smoothed his shirt. He kissed both his children on their heads.

“Thank you, Sylvia, for the scrumptious meal.”

Meeghan’s mother, a woman pushing sixty, swooned like a teen.

Meeghan rolled her eyes upon seeing how smitten her mother was with the compliment. She was always so impressed with Max the Great.

“I’ll walk you out.”

Melanie jumped up and gave her dad a bear hug. For a few moments while they embraced, Meeghan felt her heart soften for her almost-ex. The thought of him receiving reports of which brand of tampons she purchased at Walgreens on his PDA brought her back to reality.

Controlling, manipulative, demanding…she repeated the words in her head over and over in an effort not to crack.

“Say bye to dad, Peter”.

Peter nodded.

When Max and Meeghan were in the living room alone the gloves came off.

Meeghan tossed his coat roughly at him.

“What are you doing here? You hate my mother’s cooking- if you want to see the kids just take them out. Must you constantly invade my space?”

Max said nothing for a moment. “You’re right, Meeghan. Next time I’ll call and run my plans by you.”

The world stood still as Meeghan tried to contemplate the fact that her husband had just agreed with her.

“Um. Ok. Thank you. Thank you. Well…I’ll see you in court next week.”

“Would it be alright if I saw you before then?” Max opened the front door.

“What do you mean?”

“I’d like to take you to dinner tomorrow.”

Meeghan shifted her weight from one foot to another.

Max continued, “to discuss the children. Peter, specifically. He seems depressed.”

“Oh sure. Yes. Fine. 8 o’clock is good for me.””

“See you then.”

He closed the door behind him. Meeghan didn’t realize how deprived she’d feel of the standard “goodbye wife” peck on the cheek until it wasn’t so standard anymore.

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Dawn sat patiently in her black SUV waiting for Charlie to bounce out of his prep school. She hadn’t told him about the inevitable move to Canada that would rip him away from his friends and the life he’d always known. Perhaps she was still in denial herself. One week from now could she actually be living in a downtown Montreal loft? She loved the international city but Capisce was based in California. So was she.

The air inside her vehicle suddenly felt strangling and Dawn pushed the door open and leaned up against the hot steel to catch her breath.

“Get a hold of yourself!” she self-scolded.

“Dawn?” Marianne, Robbie’s mom walked briskly toward her.

“Good afternoon, Marianne!” Dawn’s greeting was unnaturally enthusiastic and louder than she’d intended.

“Good afternoon to you!” Marianne came in for a long hug. “So, is it too early for congratulations?”

Dawn was puzzled, “Sorry?”

“Oh please, everyone knows Rick was offered an amazing position in Canada. When does he move?”

“He move? We’re all going to-”

Marianne put a finger in the air to stop the conversation. “Wait. Don’t tell me for a second that you’re going to leave your entire life here to follow hubby to a foreign country-”.

“It’s Canada, not Taiwan…”

Marianne continued, “Dawn, you have a business here, a son who’s in his formative years. I’ve seen commuter marriages work. Thrive even. Think about it.”

Dawn’s wasn’t sure what to say. Commuter marriage? She was relieved when Charlie ran past her and opened the passenger car door.

“Hey mom, hi Mrs. Peters. Mom, can we stop by Art Surplus on the way home I need a poster board.”

Marianne touched Dawn’s arm. “Just think about it. I’d hate to see you give up everything. Think about your son.”

“Thanks.”

Dawn floated into the driver’s seat and set off to find her son’s emergency art supplies in a daze.

As she wandered through aisles of paper and paints Dawn thought of her time at art school. During those “lean years” of only dreaming about the business she now owned, craft stores like these had been her refuge. The only thing that made eating ramen noodles four nights a week and working three jobs to pay for university worth it was her dream of running a San Francisco-based company while living in Pacific Heights.

Dawn felt like a hypocrite. Over the years she’d given Meeghan such a hard time for abandoning her ambitions for the sake of family. “You can have both-look at me” had always been her reprimand.

Before Dawn paid for Charlie’s supplies, she glanced at her Blackberry to check the time and noticed one unread text message.

Don’t sell out! xx Marianne

She laughed quietly and then bit her lower lip. What if…? A quick Google search in her phone’s browser for “commuter marriages” turned up 629,000 results in .21 seconds. She’d need more reasons and more time than that to sell Rick on the idea. But tonight, she’d try.

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Now as an experienced mother she knew never to disturb sleep. Even if breathing appeared slightly compromised. She felt proud of herself for reaching this minor parenting milestone until the image of juggling two kids as a divorcée popped into her mind.

Thomas cleared his throat, gently remind her of his presence. Lisa had been silent, lost in her thoughts, for 30 minutes now. In the past he would have been annoyed, but knowing she was carrying his child somehow bestowed him with additional patience.

“How far along are you?”

“The doctor thinks about nine weeks.”

The dad-to-be racked his mental encyclopedia. What does that mean? Does it have fingernails? Eye sockets?

Lisa read his mind.

“I heard the heartbeat.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “Wow.”

Two boys, around 6 and 8, tumbled out of a nearby minivan and sprinted to the park’s jungle gym. They were followed by their leisurely walking, smiling parents.

The mom was dressed casually in a breezy pink pastel chiffon skirt and matching sweater. Lisa looked down at her dark denim and college sweatshirt (which felt a bit snug) and suddenly felt like an unfit mother.

Perfect Mom called out to her roughhousing boys, “Play nice!” before spreading out a red and white checkered blanket for her and her well-groomed husband to lounge on.

Lisa suddenly felt nauseous again. She grabbed her purse.

“I’m going to get Gracie home.” Children are the perfect excuse for almost anything.

Thomas began to speak, “But we haven’t even talked.”

“What is there to say?”

“What are we going to do…what do you want to do…about the-, about us…”

Lisa had no answers but didn’t feel comfortable expressing her doubt in front of a man she had now put in the “enemy” category of her emotional world.

“It’s my body so I’ll let you know.”

A burst of satisfaction and power flooded her being and she smiled tightly. Finally, he’d know what it was like to be on the wrong end of the control stick.

Thomas stared. “But it’s also my child…”

Lisa was on a high now. “But it’s my body. Can you understand that?”

She knew this bumper sticker conversation wasn’t about women’s rights but it felt so good to see him squirm.

Thomas felt empty and turned toward the siblings dangling like orangutans from the monkey bars. He knew these lies weren’t worth losing another child over, whether by surgeon or by bitterness. It was time to come clean.

Lisa saw a look she’d never seen on his face before, a combination of fear and desperation, and was immediately brought back down to earth.

“You know I’d never-,” she began.

He cut her off. “I’ll tell you everything tonight. I’ll come by the apartment at 10.”

With that Thomas kissed his sleeping daughter gently on the head and briskly walked away before Lisa could say anything.

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$250,000.

River nursed Naomi in her lap. “She wants to invest. I guess the idea of a green shop-at-home catalog company isn’t so crazy after all…”

Oliver said nothing. The only sound in the room was Naomi’s soft swallows.

“When does she want repayment?”

“We haven’t discussed the details yet. We’ll get together next week.”

Oliver’s face changed from happy and shocked to worried. He handed the check back to River and turned toward the kitchen sink.

Naomi had now fallen asleep. River brushed dark strands of wild hair out of her baby’s face.

“What is it?”

Oliver turned around slowly.

“Dawn owns a multi-million dollar company with international distribution. How can you be sure she’s going to be…-”

“Fair? Because she’s one of my dearest friends.”

River tried to push down the feelings of disappointment, annoyance, and worst of all, fear as she slowly stood up and placed Naomi on a pile of soft cotton blankets in the living room. She stared at her sleeping child laying peacefully amongst the bold currant, mango orange, and blood red prints of fabric. It had been nine years since she’d purchased them while wandering alone in an Istanbul bazaar. A few crumpled Turkish lira for two armfuls of blankets.

Why couldn’t all transactions be so simple?

She knew Oliver was right. He knew that she understood by her silence.

Ten minutes later she was in front of her computer Googling “business partner contracts” feeling like anyone but herself. Her intense discomfort grew as she clicked through stories of deals gone bad and how to protect oneself from a crooked agreement.

She pictured her old friend’s face in her heart and slammed the laptop shut. No.

“If I’m going to do business, I’ll do it my way,” she whispered semi-audibly and was only partly surprised when the walls seemed to answer with a sarcastic, “Good luck”.

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It was only 8:45 and San Francisco was already teeming with life. Yuppies, bicycle messengers, and ordinary folk weaved between each other without managing to actually make contact or collide. Everyone took such care, even in their haste, to avoid touching. A large industrial garbage truck shrieked steadily and loudly, warning the world that it was backing up. Meeghan wished her marriage had come with a similar alarm.

She took a sip of her coffee and felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Wasn’t ‘being on time’ required to pass the bar?” she half joked.

The blood drained from Meeghan’s face as she turned to see Max rather than her slightly irresponsible cousin.

“Oh…”

A man running up the court steps grazed Meeghan’s purse almost knocking the strap off of her shoulder. She quickly steadied her bag and scowled. Max mock-reached out his hand to help

“Watch yourself. We wouldn’t want to lose any of those pills.”

Meeghan squinted her eyes at him. It was way too early in the morning to throw around passive aggressive insults.

“My prescriptions are none of your-”

“None of my business?”

Max took a step toward his wife.

Meeghan, suddenly uncomfortable with this stranger, took a step back. In the last few years of their marriage they’d had a silent agreement: she went along with everything he said, and he didn’t mention her chemical dependence.

“No, none of your business. Especially not now.”

She took another step back and found herself up against a concrete pillar.

“You can use me as your excuse for your rapidly declining unhappiness but if you happen to find a lucid moment in which you’re willing to be honest with yourself you’d see that you were on this path long before you ever met me.” Max rested an arm on the pillar behind Meeghan and spoke just a few inches away from her face. A passerby could have interpreted their intimate distance as affection had they missed the fight or flight flashing in Meeghan’s eyes.

Max went on, speaking in a slow, low tone. “I never deluded myself. I know you married me as an escape from your myriad of fears.”

“And you just wanted someone to control.”

“You friends may say that but the two of us, we know different. From the start you refused to make a decision. I saw how afraid you were of failing at anything and tried to make it easy for you knowing you’d blame me at some point. And here we are.”

Meeghan felt herself becoming angry. “Well thank you for rescuing me. Aren’t you a saint. Next time I’ll bring a medal.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

“I may have needed you then, Max, but I’m not a blank canvass for you to draw all over anymore.”

“You’ve found another artist?”

“How dare you. If I’m such a weak, pathetic woman then why did you-”

“I thought the children would help ground you and was wrong.”

“You don’t know me.” She blinked back stinging tears at the mention of the kids.

“You don’t either.”

Meeghan turned her head and could see Ellen stumbling up the stairs. She juggled an oversized designer bag and slippery file folders. Finally.

She felt Max’s eyes searching her face and avoided meeting his intense gaze. “C’mon Ellen,” she pleaded silently.

Ellen reached down to rescue a pen that had fallen out of her bag and nearly fell over.

Max leaned in closer and for a moment, Meeghan was petrified that he’d kiss her.

He spoke. “But I do want to.”

“Want to what, ” Meeghan was surprised that she could speak as she felt without breath.

Ellen popped up, puzzled. This couldn’t be the Max she’d heard so much about from the family. She wondered if Meeghan had already started dating.

Max took his hand off of the pillar and stepped back giving Meeghan her personal space back. She took a deep breath.

He put both hands in his coat pocket. “Know you. I want to.”

And he walked up the steps.

Ellen waited for him to be out of earshot before adjusting her glasses and turning to Meeghan. In a tone that sounded more girlfriend trying to get the dish than divorce lawyer she asked, “Ok, who was that?”

Meeghan answered without turning towards her, “I have no idea.”

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“Macy’s east coast distributors would like to meet with you about creating an exclusive line, here you go,” she handed Dawn a pink Post-It note.

“I’ll review my messages later. I need to make a private call,” she said taking the stack of notes her assistant held.

Dawn walked into the office, closed the door and sank into her smooth leather armchair. She closed her eyes and tried to envision a future that nurtured her husband’s career and hers simultaneously. She spoke into the air, “Canada? Are they serious?”

Dawn used to joke that the only places she’d ever live were San Francisco, New York City, and in first-class flying between them.

She loosely entertained the idea of running her business from the great white north. It was more than possible. Dawn tapped her fingernails on her keyboard trying to ignore the panicky feeling that was creeping up her spine. The idea of leaving Lisa, River, and Meeghan consumed her. Was that why she’d been so generous with River earlier?

A childlike giggle spilled out of her. She recalled River’s face as she held Dawn’s first investor payment in her hands: a check for $250,000. If Rivers’ eyes had grown any bigger they probably would have rolled out onto the sidewalk. No, it wasn’t fear that had led to the hasty transaction; Dawn didn’t hesitate when she saw a viable business opportunity and this was one of them. She just hoped River wouldn’t let an inferiority complex get in the way of potential profits. They’d planned a seminal action plan meeting for the end of the week.

Fingering through her messages, Dawn saw one from her husband. She knew that today was the day corporate was going to let him know whether or not he’d be part of the move. If he was asked to stay on and join the Quebec team that would mean a whole new life for her without her best friends. If he was let go, that would mean everything he’d worked so hard for would be gone.

“Either way, I lose,” she whispered as she dialed his office number.

“WNBC, how may I direct your call?”

Dawn recognized the now-sober assistant’s blog.

“Hi Leslie, it’s Dawn.”

“Oh my gosh,” Leslie gushed, “I am so sorry about the other night. I should have known better than to mix Captain morgan’s and expensive wine…”

“Don’t even worry about it. Is Rick free?”

Leslie paused for a moment before continuing. “Sure. One moment.”

Dawn tried to distract herself with a brightly-colored stack of fabric swatches on her desk.

“Hello?” Rick sounded calm. Too calm.

“Hi Rick, I saw your message and just wanted to check in- how did everything go today?”

Rick took a deep breath.

“It went great.”

“So they kept you on then,” Dawn’s voice was flat in spite trying to force some enthusiasm.

“Yes.”

“Wow. Just, wow. So I guess we have a lot to do over the next few months,” Dawn tried to remain positive.

“Dawn. I start in Quebec next week.”

And suddenly the investor was silent.

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Separation counseling. In a perfect world she would be wandering the aisles of her local baby boutique with images of pink and blue floating through her mind, not deciding the fate of her marriage.

Grace let out a shriek as her multi-colored blanket got caught in the stroller gears and was yanked from her hand. Lisa quickly pulled the lovey free and handed it back to her daughter. As she rose she saw Thomas in the office building parking lot. She would have thought the woman he was speaking to was the counselor, as she’d never met her before, but the distance they were standing from each other was too close for to be just business.

Lisa began to take a slow step forward but stopped when she saw her kiss Thomas on the cheek. She blinked. Did she just see that? She gripped the stroller handles tightly as if they the only thing anchoring her to the ground.

Thomas stood expressionless with his hands in his suit pocket as the woman walked away, entered a car and left. It was only when the car passed right by where Lisa and Grace were standing that he noticed them. He look startled.

“That was…” he began as he walked briskly over to his family.

Lisa pushed past him and made her way into the building. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s get this over with.”

Below her cool tone were a plethora of questions: Was that the woman? Was he staying with her? Was he in love with her?

The elevator ride up to the third floor felt painfully long. Grace was now happily squiring in her father’s arms. Lisa struggled to integrate her husband’s cheating partner and loving father personas. It amazed her how two seemingly opposite words, cheating and loving, could coexist within one human being. Kind of like pregnant and alone.

Before long the family was in the office of Dr. Rosen. Lisa tuned out while Thomas explained their situation to the licensed psychologist. Her attention drifted from the certificates on the wall, to the thin branches waving to her from outside the window, to the pretty pink hem on her navy blue skirt. Her mind did everything it could to convince her that she wasn’t there.

“Lisa? Lisa?” Dr. Rosen’s voice brought her back to the present moment.”And what is your intention for this session?”

Lisa ignored the question and turned to her husband. “Who was that?”

Thomas looked at Dr. Rosen and then back at his oddly calm wife. “Dr. Rosen asked you to state your intention for this counseling session.”

Grace sat on her father’s lap sucking on a teething biscuit. Wet, crumbling pieces of cracker fell to the carpet.

“Was that her?” Lisa crinkled her brow.

Dr. Rosen started to speak, “Before we get into any specifics I’d really like to-”

Lisa stood up. “This was a mistake. Counselors are for people committed to solving problems and moving forward. I’m not an idiot.” She turned to the doctor. “Thank you for your time.”

She started to scoop Gracie into her arms when she caught the scent of the damp crackers. The ordinary mundane smell stirred her almost-empty stomach. She felt the orange juice, the only thing she’d been able to “eat” that morning, begin to make an appearance.

Luckily the trash can was within reach.

The room was silent as Lisa came up for air.

Dr. Rosen began to rise slowly, “Are you okay? You’re obviously in distress.”

Lisa’s eyes avoided Thomas’ stare.

“No,” he said flatly, “She’s pregnant.”

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