Love the one youre with

understand what we had together and why it ended, can't stop myself from typing:

Yes.

And so he does. I hear the muffled sound of my cell phone ringing merrily in my purse, thrown in my closet the night before, and rush to get it before it rolls to voicemail.

'Hi,' I say, trying to catch my breath and sound casual, as if I'm not positively ecstatic to hear his voice again.

I can tell he's smiling when he says, 'Hi, Ellie.'

My heart melts, and I grin back at him.

'So,' he says. 'You really just read my article?'

'Uh-huh,' I say, staring out the window to our driveway below.

'Didn't your agent give you the copy I sent?' he asks.

'Yes,' I say, feeling strangely contrite for appearing so indifferent to his story. He must know better, though. He must know how much that day meant to me-which was the real reason I waited so long to read his article. Still, I flounder for an excuse, saying, 'She did. I've just been… busy lately.'

'Oh, yeah?' he says. 'Working a lot?'

'Not exactly,' I say, as I hear Bob Dylan singing 'Tangled Up in Blue' in his background.

'Busy with what then?' he presses.

Busy making labels and watching Oprah and ironing, I think, but say, 'Well, I moved to Atlanta, for one.' I pause, awash with renewed guilt over my use of I. But I don't correct myself. After all, these days it feels like I.

Leo says, 'Atlanta, huh?'

'Yeah.'

'You liking that?'

'Not one bit!' I say with breezy, upbeat irony.

Leo laughs and says, 'Really? A buddy of mine lives in Atlanta-Decatur, I think? He says it's pretty cool there. Lots to do… good music, culture.'

'Not so much, really,' I say, thinking that I'm probably not being fair to Atlanta. That it's probably just the Graham version of Atlanta I have a problem with. Which, of course, is a pretty major problem.

'What don't you like about it?' Leo asks.

I hesitate, thinking I should keep it vague, general, brief, but instead I detail all my misgivings about the so- called good life, tossing out words like insular and pampered, social climbing and stifling.

Leo whistles. 'Man,' he says. 'Don't hold back.'

I smile, realizing how much better I feel after my diatribe-and better still when Leo says, with a note of hopefulness, 'Can you move back to New York?'

I let out a nervous laugh and force myself to say my husband's name. 'I don't think Andy would appreciate that too much.'

Leo clears his throat. 'Right. I guess not… He's… from there, right?'

'Yeah,' I say, thinking, He's quite the hometown hero.

'So have you told him you think his city blows?' Leo asks. 'That living anywhere other than New York is like drinking warm soda that's lost its fizz?'

'Not exactly,' I say lightly, walking a tightrope of loyalty. I have always felt that griping about your spouse is, in some ways, worse than physical betrayal; I'd almost rather Andy kiss another girl than tell that same girl that I was, say, lousy in bed. So, despite our argument last night, I change my tone and try to be as fair as possible. 'He's really happy here… he's working with his dad now… you know, the whole family-business thing… and we already bought a house.'

'Lemme guess,' Leo says. 'A big-ass, phat house with all the trimmings?'

'Pretty much,' I say, feeling embarrassed by my riches-yet also the slightest bit defensive. After all, I agreed to them. I chose Andy. His family. This life.

'Hmm,' Leo says, as if contemplating all of this.

I continue, 'His family would die if we moved back.'

'So Margot's there, too?' Leo asks with a hint of disdain.

Feeling conflicted, I say, 'Yeah. She moved here about a year ago… and she's about to have a baby… So… it's… really too late to move back.'

Leo makes a sound-like he's laughing or exhaling hard.

'What?' I say.

'Nothing,' he says.

'Tell me,' I say softly.

'Well,' he says. 'Didn't we just say… that it's never too late?'

I feel my stomach drop, shake my head, and mouth fuck. I am fucked. And this feeling only intensifies when Leo says, 'Maybe you'd feel better if you came back for another shoot?'

'To New York?'

'Yeah,' he says.

'With you?' I ask hesitantly, hopefully.

'Yeah,' Leo says. 'With me.'

I inhale, rake my teeth across my lower lip, and say, 'I don't know if that's such a good idea…' My voice trails off, leaving us in loaded, heart-thudding silence.

He asks why-although he must know why.

'Lemme see,' I say, putting up a shield of playful sarcasm. 'Let's see… Maybe because I'm married?… And you're my ex-boyfriend?' Then, despite my better judgment, I can't resist adding, 'My ex-boyfriend who disappeared into thin air years ago, never to be seen or heard from again, until he happened to run into me totally randomly one day?'

I wait for him to reply, nervous that I've said too much. After what feels like a long while, he says my name-Ellie-sounding exactly the way he used to, in the beginning.

'Yeah?' I whisper back.

'I have to ask you something…'

I freeze, anticipating his question as I say, 'What's that?'

He clears his throat and says, 'Did Margot ever tell you… that I came back?'

My mind spins in a hundred directions, wondering what he's talking about, fearing the worst-which is also the best.

'You came back?' I finally say, the import of his words making me dizzy. I turn away from the window. 'When did you come back?'

'About two years after,' Leo says.

'After what?' I say, already knowing the answer.

Sure enough, he says, 'Two years after we broke up-'

'When exactly?' I say, frantically piecing together the time frame-about a month after Andy and I started to date, possibly even the very day we first slept together-December twenty-ninth.

'Oh, I don't know. Sometime right after Christmas…'

I digest the crazy, unlikely chronology, and then ask, 'To our apartment?'

'Yeah. I was in your neighborhood… and just… came by to see you. She didn't tell you, did she?'

'No,' I say breathlessly. 'She didn't… She never told me that.'

'Yeah,' he says. 'I didn't think so.'

I pause, feeling giddy and weak and even more floored than I did that day in the intersection. 'What did you say to her? What did you want?'

'I don't remember… exactly,' Leo says.

'You don't remember what you wanted? Or what you said?'

'Oh, I remember what I wanted,' Leo says.