Love the one youre with

that she might make an unprecedented scene and divulge everything right there on the spot. But, if nothing else, she would never embarrass her brother like that. Instead, she practically runs to Webb, resting her head on his chest as if seeking refuge in her own flawless relationship.

I watch the two of them together, marveling that I felt the same way about Andy-that he was my bedrock- only a few short months ago. Now I stand several paces away from him, feeling utterly alone, separate.

'Who won?' Margot asks as she casts Andy a furtive glance, seemingly hoping that he did. If his wife is going to betray him, at least he can have a good day on the golf course.

Sure enough, Andy flashes a cute, cocky smile, winks, and says, 'Who do you think won, Mags?'

'Dude is so lucky,' James says, as Ginny, Stella, and Pam join us in the kitchen, looking delighted to be back in the company of their men.

'Andy won!' Margot announces with artificial cheer as the guys regale us with their golf tales, including a guess-you-had-to-be-there moment when Craig, in a fit of frustration, whacked a magnolia tree with his brand-new driver. More than once. Everyone laughs, except for Margot and me, while Craig makes a proud point of telling us all just how expensive that driver was. Meanwhile, he retrieves four Heinekens from the refrigerator, opening them so rapid fire that he reminds me of a bartender during happy hour-a job I feel pretty sure he never held. He doles them out to Andy, Webb, and James, sucking his own down and, between gulps, wiping the bottle against his forehead.

'So how was the shower?' Andy asks, seemingly the only man in the room-including the father-to-be-who remembers that the real point of the day wasn't golf. I add a few points to his good-husband tally, despite the fact that I know he shouldn't be under heightened scrutiny.

Margot cocks her head, smiles a subdued smile, and says, 'It was great.'

'It was so lovely,' Stella and Pam chime in, using the exact same inflection. They exchange a fond, girlfriendy look that makes me long for that dynamic with Margot-and worry that we might never get it back.

'Did you get some good loot?' James asks Margot, in a fake New York accent, rotating his visor a half-turn to achieve his favorite gangsta look.

Margot forces another smile and says yes, she received some gorgeous presents, while Ginny, unable to contain her glee, blurts, 'And Ellen got to meet Lucy!'

My stomach churns as I think of how much more gleeful Ginny will be when Margot confides in her the full irony of the situation.

'Is that right?' Andy says, raising his eyebrows in an interested way that would, under any other circumstances, send me into a tail-spin of jealousy and insecurity.

'So what'd you think?' James asks me with his trademark smirk, likely homing in on a golden opportunity to break his mother's prim protocol.

'She was very nice,' I say quietly, as James, true to form, mumbles something about her 'nice tubes.'

'James!' Stella gasps.

'You even know what tubes are, Mom?' James says, grinning.

'I have an idea,' Stella says, shaking her head.

Meanwhile, Andy pretends to ignore the sideshow, kindly doing his best to appear bored with the subject of Lucy-which only serves to bring Margot's outrage to a fresh boil.

'Well,' she finally says, clearly unable to stand being near me another second. 'I'm exhausted.' She looks up at Webb and says, 'We probably should go before my Braxton Hicks start up again…'

Webb massages her neck and says, 'Sure thing. Let's get you home, sweetie.'

'Yeah,' Andy says, yawning and then taking a long drink of beer. 'We better hit it, too. Ellen has a big day tomorrow. She's going to New York for a big shoot.'

'I've heard,' Margot says. Her expression is blank and her voice is drained of any emotion-but it is still perfectly obvious, at least to me, that she is upset about something more than potential contractions. I watch her, desperate to make final eye contact, although I'm not sure what I wish to communicate. An appeal for mercy? A final explanation? An outright apology? When she finally glances over at me, I give her a plaintive look that covers all of the above. She shakes her head in refusal, looks down at Ginny's stone floor, and moves her lips almost imperceptibly, as if formulating what she's going to say to her brother in his hour of need.

That evening, after Andy and I return home, we are the portrait of a normal couple sharing a Sunday evening, at least on the surface. We make a chopped salad to go with our pepperoni pizza from Mellow Mushroom. We watch television, passing the remote control back and forth. I help him gather our garbage for pickup in the morning. He sits with me while I pay the bills. We get ready for bed together. Inside, though, I am a total wreck, replaying my conversation with Margot, jumping whenever the phone rings, and desperately trying to recruit the words-and the strength-to make my confession.

Then, finally, Andy and I are in bed with the lights off, and I know it is my absolute last chance to say something. Anything. Before Margot says it for me.

A hundred different openers flash through my mind as Andy leans over to kiss me goodnight. I kiss him back, lingering for a few seconds longer than normal, feeling both nervous and profoundly sad.

'It was great meeting Lucy today,' I say when we finally separate, cringing at how lame I am for trying to drum up the can-you-be-friends-with-exes discussion.

'Yeah. She's a nice girl,' Andy says. He sighs and adds, 'Too bad she married an ass.'

'Her husband's an ass?'

'Yeah… Apparently he missed his own son's birth.'

'Well. I can see how that could happen. Did he have a good reason?' I say, hoping that my forgiving mood will be contagious.

'I know it could happen,' Andy says. 'If the baby came early or something… But he went on a business trip on his kid's due date… And then surprise, surprise, couldn't get back in time.'

'Who told you that?'

'Luce.'

In spite of everything, I flinch at the abbreviated pet form of her name. Andy must hear it, too, because he clears his throat quickly and corrects himself, saying, 'Lucy told me.'

'When?' I ask, shamelessly angling for shared culpability. 'I thought you guys didn't talk anymore?'

'We don't,' he quickly replies. 'She told me a long time ago.'

'Her son's five. We've been together longer than five years.'

'He's almost six,' Andy says, adjusting the covers around him.

'You have his birthday memorized?' I shoot back, only half kidding.

'Easy, Inspector Gadget,' Andy says, laughing. 'You know Lucy and I haven't talked in years. It was just one of those final, post-relationship talks where you check on each other and-'

'And confide how miserable your current relationship is? How your husband can't hold a candle to your first love?'

Andy laughs. 'No. She actually didn't seem to think that her husband missing the birth was that big of a deal. It was sort of an incidental part of her story… She was always one of those girls who seemed to care more about babies than husbands.'

'So did she call you?… Or did you call her?' I ask, feeling increasingly queasy.

'Jeez, Ell. I honestly don't remember… We didn't talk for long… I think we both wanted to make sure the other was okay… That there were no hard feelings.'

'And were there? Hard feelings?' I say, thinking that Leo and I never had such a conversation. We never had any closure, unless you count our red-eye flight-which obviously didn't do the trick.

'No,' he says, and then sits up and gently asks, 'Where are you going with this?'

'Nowhere,' I say. 'I'm just… I just want you to know that it'd be okay with me if you did talk to her… if you want to be friends with her.'

'C'mon, Ell. You know I have no desire to be friends with Lucy.'

'Why not?'

'I just don't,' he says. 'For one, I don't have any friends who are girls. And for another… I don't even know her anymore.'

I consider this statement, realizing that despite my bad breakup with Leo, and despite the fact that we didn't