Love the one youre with

'I'm just saying…' I say, my favorite junior-high retort, good for almost any uncomfortable situation.

'Well, I'm just saying that rainy Coney Island shots wouldn't be so bad… would they?'

'Guess not,' I say, thinking that they might actually be better in the rain. That spending time with Leo might be really nice in the rain, too.

'So sit down,' Leo says, interrupting my meandering thoughts. He points to his couch, looks into my eyes, and says, 'Stay a while.'

I hold his gaze, both fearing and hoping what a while might bring. Then I turn to sit on the far end of the couch, propping my elbow on the armrest, waiting for my coffee, for him. I watch him fill my mug, saving only enough room for a dash of milk and two teaspoons of sugar. 'Light and sweet, right?' he asks.

'What makes you think I still like my coffee that way?' I say, giving him a coy smile.

'Oh, I know,' Leo says in a deadpan that still manages to come across as flirtatious.

'How do you know?' I ask, flirting right back.

'You had it that way at the diner,' he says, handing me my cup and sitting on just the right spot on the couch-close, but not too close. 'Back in January.'

'You noticed my coffee?' I say.

'I noticed everything,' he says.

'Like?' I press, that familiar Leo-induced, dizziness sweeping over me.

'Like… the blue sweater you were wearing… Like the way you cocked your head to the side when I walked in… Like your expression when you told me you were married-'

'And what was that?' I interrupt, wishing he'd stop using the word married.

'You know the expression.'

'Tell me.'

'The I-hate-you expression.'

'I never hated you.'

'Liar.'

'Okay,' I say. 'I kinda hated you.'

'I know you did.'

'And now?' I say, daring myself to look into his brown eyes. 'Do I have the same look now?'

Leo squints, as if searching for an answer on my face. Then he says, 'Nope. It's gone. That look has been gone since… since our flight from L.A. when I saved you from that dirty old man.'

I laugh and pretend to shudder. 'He was gross.'

'Yes. He was. Thank goodness… Otherwise you might not have been so happy to see me.'

I shake my head, not in a contradictory way, but in a way that says, No comment-at least none that I can share.

'What?' he asks.

'Nothing,' I say. Ten minutes into my 'work' trip-and I am already drifting into decidedly dangerous territory.

'Tell me,' he says.

'You tell me,' I say, taking my first sip of coffee. It is a little too hot-but otherwise perfect.

'Well… Let's see… What can I tell you?…' Leo looks up at the ceiling as I take in his clean shave, crisp sideburns, olive skin. 'I can tell you that I'm happy you came… I'm happy to see you… I'm very happy to see you.'

'I'm very happy to see you, too,' I say, overcome with sudden shyness.

'Well, good,' Leo says, nodding, sipping his coffee, then kicking his legs up onto the coffee table. 'We got that goin' for us, huh?'

'Yes,' I say as we both stare down at the floor. 'We do.'

Seconds later, our eyes lock again, our smiles fade, and although I don't know how, I am quite sure his heart is pounding as hard as mine. I think of Andy, realizing that my guilt is starting to recede, which in turn fills me with fresh guilt, especially when Leo clears his throat and says my husband's name aloud.

'Does Andy know you're here?' he asks.

It is a simple question, but undercut with bold recognition that I might be here for a little more than a photo shoot.

'Yes,' I say, realizing that my answer clarifies nothing. My yes could mean that I view the trip as purely professional, therefore telling my husband only about the work. Or it could mean that I confessed everything. Or it could mean that I told him only enough to result in a big fight and a Post-it note ultimatum.

'And?… Was he okay with it?' Leo asks, looking concerned.

I look down at my coffee and shake my head, hoping that that says enough.

It must, because Leo simply says, 'I'm sorry.'

I nod my thanks, realizing that so much of our interaction is-and has always been-about subtext, what's happening beneath our surface.

'So… what about your girlfriend?' I ask, turning the tables.

He shakes his head, slices his hand through the air, and makes a clicking noise. 'That's done,' he says.

'You broke up?'

'Yup.' He nods.

'When?' I ask-but what I really want to know is, Why? Who did it?

'A few weeks ago,' he says vaguely.

'Do you… want to talk about it?'

'Do you want to talk about it?' he says.

'If you do,' I say tentatively.

Leo shrugs, and then starts speaking in choppy, matter-of-fact sentences. 'I told her I was talking to you again. She overreacted. I told her it wasn't like that. That you're married. She said what is it like, then? I said it wasn't anything, but she accused me of still having feelings for you.' He looks over at me, as I drop my gaze from his eyes to chin, then up to his lips.

'And?' I say.

'And.' Leo shrugs again. 'I couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear. So she took off.'

I imagine that stark, sickening conversation, my heart filling with empathy for a woman I've never met. 'You just… let her leave?' I say, in awe of his honesty-which can also come across as cruelty. One of the best-and worst-things about him.

Leo slowly nods. Then he puts his coffee down, shifts his body to face me, and says, 'Yeah. Well. The problem is… she was right. I do have feelings for you, Ellie.'

I swallow hard, my heart now in my throat, my ears, on the coffee table, as I replay his words and against my better judgment ask, 'What kind of feelings?'

'Feelings I should have sorted out a long time ago,' he says, meeting my eyes for a second and then staring across the room. 'Feelings that resurfaced when I saw you again… Feelings I shouldn't have for… a married woman.'

There it is again. Married.

I open my mouth, but can't find any words of my own. At least not words that I can say aloud.

'So,' Leo says, letting me off the hook. He rubs his hands together, then folds them, blowing across his knuckles before throwing out one of those profound, yet meaningless sentences he's so fond of. 'It is what it is.'

I nod my safe agreement.

'I mean… what're ya gonna do, right?' Leo asks.

It is a rhetorical question, but I answer it anyway, treading carefully. 'I don't know,' I say, shaking my head.