Something Blue

wouldn't come. Couldn't come, I mean.'

I laughed. 'Yeah. That would have been sort of weird, huh?'

'Yeah. I guess so,' she said wanly.

'So where are you guys living now?' I asked.

She told me they had bought an apartment in Gramercy-which had always been Rachel's favorite neighborhood in the city.

'That's awesome… And are you going on a honeymoon?' I asked, thinking of their trip to Hawaii, but refusing to succumb to negative emotion.

'Yeah… We leave for Italy tonight,' she said.

'Oh. That's great. I'm glad I caught you.'

'Yeah. Me too,' she said.

'So I hope you have a good time in Italy. Give Dex my best too. Okay?'

She said that she would do that. Then we congratulated each other again, and said good-bye. I hung up and looked at Ethan through fresh tears. The kind that come after you've survived an ordeal.

'I was going to tell you,' Ethan said. 'But with your preterm labor, I didn't want to upset you, and yesterday wasn't the day for it… Besides, I thought Rachel should tell you herself.'

'It's fine,' I said. 'I'm surprisingly fine with it… I guess you were invited?'

He nodded. 'Yeah. But I never planned on going.'

'Why not?'

'You think I would have left you?'

'You could have.'

He shook his head emphatically. 'No way.'

'You're closer to her,' I said, perhaps to gauge his feelings for me, but also because I felt guilty that he had missed one of his best friend's weddings because of me.

'I'm closer to you,' he said earnestly.

I smiled, feeling no sense of victory over Rachel, just an incredible closeness to Ethan. I wondered if he felt the way I did-or whether it was only love for a friend.

'And just look what I would have missed,' Ethan said, gazing down at John and Thomas.

I thought about the two events-the birth of my babies and Rachel's wedding-transpiring virtually simultaneously, on opposite sides of the Atlantic.

'Can you believe it all happened on the very same day?' I asked him.

Ethan shook his head. 'Frankly, no. I cannot.'

'Guess I'm never going to forget their anniversary.'

Ethan put his arm around me and let me cry some more.

On the day of our discharge from the hospital, Geoffrey stopped by to visit us during his rounds. He shook Ethan's hand, kissed me on the cheek, and admired my sons.

'What a nice guy,' Ethan said after Geoffrey had left the room.

'Yeah, he could win the ex-boyfriend-of-the-year award,' I said, thinking that as nice as Geoffrey was, I was still certain that I had done the right thing in breaking up with him. The fact that our relationship had weathered the transition to friendship so seamlessly was just further confirmation.

I put on the sweater that Ethan had given me for Christmas as he reswaddled John and Thomas in Rachel's blankets, handing me both bundles, one in each arm. Then Ethan finished packing our belongings, which had spread to every corner of the room.

'I don't want to go,' I said.

'Why not?' he asked.

I tried to explain my feeling of wanting to stay in the hospital forever, with a fleet of nurses and doctors catering to me and my children. I felt envious of the women just going into labor, and told Ethan that I'd take the pain all over again for a few more nights at the inn.

Ethan reassured me that I had nothing to worry about. 'We'll be fine,' he said. 'You'll see.'

It was that we that held me together through those first crazy days and weeks at home. It got me through the fear that my babies would suddenly stop breathing, the frustration with breast-feeding, my insecurity during bath time, and all the other mundane but seemingly insurmountable tasks. Most of all, it got me through the agony of the sleepless nights. You hear parents of one newborn talk about how grueling the lack of sleep is, but experiencing the endless cycle of waking-feeding-changing with twins is simply not to be believed. Let's just say I understood why sleep deprivation is the number-one form of torture for political prisoners.

Our days weren't much easier. Laundry and dishes and bills accumulated at an alarming rate. Food disappeared even more quickly, and we often resorted to opening dusty canned goods rather than schlepping our delirious selves the few blocks to the grocery store. There were many days when we didn't even change out of our pajamas or brush our teeth before late afternoon. And I certainly didn't have the energy to put on makeup or blow- dry my hair or even look in the mirror except in passing, catching horrific glimpses of my matted hair, sunken eyes, and a lingering fifteen pounds, mostly around my middle.

In short, it wasn't exactly a breeding ground for romance, but there it was anyway, blooming between Ethan and me, evident in every small act of kindness. It was love as a verb, as Rachel used to say. Love that made me more patient, more loyal, and stronger. Love that made me feel more complete than I had ever felt in my glamorous, Jimmy Choo-filled past.

Yet on the surface, Ethan and I remained 'just friends.' They were two words that haunted me, especially when Ethan went off, every few days, to spend time with Sondrine. She was still his girlfriend. I was just his friend. Sure, we were friends who exchanged soulful glances, friends who slept in a bed filled with sexual tension, friends who found any excuse to touch, but I worried that we'd never take that perilous leap of faith toward becoming a real couple, a permanent team. I had nightmares of a tragic ending: Ethan marrying Sondrine while I returned to New York with Thomas and John. I would awaken, sweating and teary, tasting the grief and heartbreak I'd face if I had to spend the rest of my life wondering just how incredible we could have been together, if only one of us had stepped up and taken the chance.

Then, one afternoon in late April, as Ethan and I took the boys out for our daily walk around Holland Park, he solemnly reported that the night before, over oysters at Bibendum, he had ended things with Sondrine. I felt a rush of excitement and opportunity. I also sensed uneasiness between us. Our last obstacle was gone, but now what?

I let out a nervous laugh and said in a teasing tone, 'Kind of weird to dump someone over oysters, isn't it?'

'Well,' Ethan said, his eyes focused on the path ahead of us. 'I'm not always the slickest guy… as you well know.'

His 'as you well know' seemed loaded with meaning and made me even more anxious. So I stumbled on, rambling about how I thought you weren't supposed to eat oysters in months containing the letter r.

'We had rock oysters-fins de clair-which you can eat year-round. But thanks so much for your concern,' he said, yawning with feigned nonchalance.

'Anytime,' I said, as we strolled around the top of the Cricket Lawn. A long minute passed, the silence between us thickening.

'How do you feel?' I finally asked, choosing my words carefully. 'About the breakup?'

Ethan glanced at me with raised brows. 'It was a long time coming. I think I was just too sleep-deprived to get around to it sooner, you know?'

I nodded. I knew.

'I just didn't feel that close to her,' he continued. 'After this long, I should have felt closer to her. Or at least had the sense that I knew her… I mean, I knew her taste in music, art, food, travel, literature. But I still didn't know her. Or maybe I just didn't want to know her badly enough.'