“You mean it?” Emily asked, waving good-bye to Priya as she headed out the door. “You’d really want me to open your show?”

“Of course I mean it,” Rob answered. “I sent your songs to my manager to convince him I wasn’t crazy. And Diana put in a good word for you.”

Emily walked down the steps of the building. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Just say yes,” Rob said.

If this had been two months ago, her saying yes would have meant the end of her marriage, she was pretty sure, but now, after all the talking they’d done, the secret-sharing, the work, she hoped Ezra would support her, even if it made him nervous. She hoped he would want her dream to come true.

—

The next day Emily officially went on leave at NYU. Ezra had said that even though he still didn’t trust Rob, he didn’t want to hold her back.

“You trust me, though,” Emily said. “Right?”

“Right,” Ezra said, a smile blooming on his face, as if he’d just then realized it. “I do trust you.”

That night he took her out to dinner at the Clocktower, a restaurant they’d been saving for a special occasion. He ordered a bottle of champagne and toasted Emily. “To my wife,” he said. After they sipped their champagne, he looked at her and said, “Em, I’m really proud of you.”

It felt to Emily like the sweetest thing he’d ever told her.

62

“I brought you something,” Priya told Emily a couple of weeks later, when she stopped by Emily’s apartment to say hi. The show was a done deal now, and Emily spent most of her time rehearsing.

“Oh yeah?” Emily asked.

Priya produced a pair of green socks. “I know this may sound silly, but a friend of mine told me that green is the color of fertility, so when you wear green socks, it increases your chances of getting pregnant. And I wore green socks the day I got pregnant with Anika, so . . . maybe?”

Emily laughed and took the socks. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate it.” She put them down on the table in front of her, next to the two mugs and the teapot she’d set out there. “Though we still haven’t been trying.”

“No?” Priya said.

Emily shook her head. “I thought a baby was what I wanted more than anything, but now that I have a chance to perform again, I worry that . . . what if it derails everything before it’s even begun?”

“It could,” Priya said, slowly, “or it could jump-start your music in a different way. Inspire a hit song. Or your music career could take years to materialize. How long did it take Rob to write a hit?”

“More than a decade,” Emily said, playing with the tag on the socks.