Love the one youre with

for better or worse.

So here we are. Picking up just where we left off on that flight, our fingers interlacing expectantly. I'm not sure what will unfold from here, but I do know I am going to be honest with myself, with Andy, and with Leo. I am going to follow my heart, wherever it leads. I owe it to myself. I owe it to everyone.

When we reach Leo's stop, we stand in tandem and walk onto the cement platform I remember well. My pulse races, yet I feel strangely at peace. The night is beautiful and clear-the kind where you could see a million stars if you were anywhere other than a city-and as we descend the stairs, more memories of nights just like this one return to me. I can tell Leo is thinking of the past, too, as he takes my hand and exits the station with sexy purpose. Neither of us speaks until we make the turn onto his block and he asks if I'm cold.

'No,' I say, realizing that I am shaking-but not from the cold.

Leo glances my way, then takes my hand, just as my cell phone rings, muffled in my trench coat pocket, for the first time all day. We both pretend we don't hear it, walking more hurriedly, almost as if our pace can make the ringing go away. It finally does, but a few steps later, starts again, somehow sounding louder, more urgent. I let go of his hand, reaching into my pocket for the phone, both hoping and fearing that it is Andy.

If you go, don't come back, I hear him saying. I hold my breath and see Suzanne's name illuminated on my screen, feeling awash with simultaneous relief and disappointment. Leo looks away, says nothing, as I decide not to answer, and instead slide the phone back in my pocket, keeping my hand there, too.

By now, we are only a few steps from his front stairs, and a sudden surge of adrenaline and guilt halts me in my tracks. Leo stops with me, looks into my eyes, and says, 'What?'

I shrug and give him a slight smile, as if I have no answer. But what I am thinking is this: that I wish I could freeze this moment, somehow delay my final decision, and just hang here in the balance between two places, two worlds, two loves.

We walk up the steps, and I stand beside Leo as he unlocks the door. Once inside, the familiar smell of the past bombards me again. My stomach is in knots. It might as well be the night of the jury verdict, that first night we were together-the dizzy anticipation is the same, even without the drinks. Anything, everything, could happen. Something is going to. I put my camera equipment and purse down on the foyer floor, as Leo does the same with his messenger bag. We wordlessly make our way over to his couch, but don't sit. Instead, Leo tosses his keys onto the coffee table and reaches over to flick on a small lamp with an opaque red shade resting on an end table. Leo squints at his watch and says, 'Our reservation's in twenty- five minutes.'

'Where?' I ask, although it doesn't really matter.

'A little Italian spot. Not too far from here,' he says tentatively, almost nervously. 'But we'd have to hurry to make it… or I could call and make it a little later?'

For some reason, his nerves calm me, and as I slip off my coat, draping it over an arm of the couch, I boldly say what I can tell he wants me to say, 'I don't want to go anywhere.'

He says, 'Me either,' and then extends his hand, palm up, asking for mine. I give it to him and then fall into him, my arms encircling his waist. His shoulders, chest, arms-everything feels so warm, solid, strong-even better than I remembered. I close my eyes as our embrace tightens and we slowly start to sway to imaginary music-a bluesy, plaintive ballad, the kind that can make you cry unexpectedly, even when you're not in the mood to cry.

He whispers my name. I whisper his back, my eyes welling.

Then he says, 'I've chased you in my dreams for a long time now, Ellie.' Just like that. From anyone else, the words would sound contrived. But from Leo, they are an honest line from our own epic ballad, written from the heart.

Is this really happening? I wonder and then ask the question aloud.

Leo nods, whispers, 'Yes.'

I think of Andy-of course I think of Andy-but I still raise my head slowly, just as I feel Leo's lowering. Our faces tilt and meet, softly colliding. We are cheek to cheek, then nose to cheek, then nose to nose. I hold perfectly still, listening to the sound of him breathing, both of us breathing together. An eternity seems to pass before his bottom lip grazes my top one, and we make a slight, final adjustment, our mouths now squarely touching, our lips parting. Then, as we do the unthinkable, the inevitable, my mind goes blank, and everything and everyone outside this tiny apartment in Queens melts away altogether. And it is just the two of us holding on to something I can't quite name.

Until my phone rings again.

The sound of it startles me as much as an actual voice in the room. Andy's voice. But when I reach down into my coat pocket, I see Suzanne's name again, and a text marked urgent. For some reason, I panic, imagining that something happened to our father, so perfectly visualizing the words: Dad died. Instead, I read her big-sister command: Call me now. I scroll down, expecting something more, but that is all there is.

'Everything okay?' Leo says, glancing down at my phone and then quickly looking away, as if he knows that whatever is on my phone can't be his business. Not yet anyway.

I flip it closed and stammer, 'I… I don't know.'

'Andy?' Leo says.

I flinch, feeling a stab of guilt as I say, 'No. It's my sister. I think… I think maybe I should give her a call… I'm sorry…'

'No problem,' Leo says, rubbing his jaw as he backs up two steps. 'I'll be… around.' He points toward his bedroom, and then turns and walks down the hall. I fight the urge to follow him, wanting so badly to sit on his bed, watch him watching me.

I take a few deep breaths and drop to the couch, speed-dialing Suzanne's number, thinking that the moment might be interrupted, but the mood is not broken.

My sister answers on the first ring and says what I know she will open with. 'Where are you?'

'I'm in New York,' I say, feeling evasive in a way I wouldn't have felt just moments before kissing Leo.

'Where?'

'Queens,' I say guiltily.

'Ellen. Where are you?' she demands.

'I'm at Leo's apartment… We just got back from the shoot… Remember? On Coney Island?' I say, wondering why I'm not more direct with my sister-someone who has always been on my side. Even before there was a side to be on.

'What's going on?' she says, now clearly agitated.

'Nothing,' I say, but my delivery suggests more, and she picks up on it instantly.

'Did you kiss him?' she says, sounding blunt even for Suzanne.

I hesitate, letting her intuit my silence. She does, and then says, 'Did you… sleep with him?'

'No,' I say, probably not sounding properly offended, perhaps because the thought has crossed my mind more than once in the past few hours, minutes, seconds.

'But you kissed him?' she says.

'Yes,' I say-and something about the aloud affirmation makes everything real. My feelings for Leo. My disloyalty to Andy. My marriage hanging in the balance.

'You need to leave there,' she says, her voice filled with angst and urgency. 'Leave there right now.'

'Suzanne… no,' I say.

She makes a clicking noise and then says, 'You're going to be sorry.'

'Maybe not.'

'You will, Ellen… God, I don't want you to be sorry. I don't want you to have regrets.'

I am thinking that the only thing I regret at this second is that I called my sister back-or that I had my phone on in the first place, but I say, 'Andy and I got in a huge fight last night. Everything's a mess.'

'Okay. I certainly know how that goes,' she says, at least feigning patience, 'but you're… making it so much worse.'

This, I can't deny. Instead, I resort to a junior-high justification. 'He left