She got up from the couch, her mind still round around the edges from the bottle of wine. She chugged a glass of water. Was she really going to do this? She should tell Ezra. But he still hadn’t responded to her last text. She pulled out her phone: I’m going to listen to some live music tonight. Just wanted to let you know, she typed. Hope everything’s okay over there. If he asked who was playing, she’d tell him. If he didn’t, she wouldn’t.

This was the kind of logic that had gotten her into this position, but the idea of telling him now, over text, seemed like a bad one.

For a moment Emily thought: If I can’t tell my husband what I’m doing over text, maybe that means I shouldn’t do it.

But then he responded with a K. Not even a have fun or are you going with some friends? And she thought: Screw it. I’m doing this.

A few seconds later another text came through with Love you, too. He’d finally read her earlier message. Finally responded. Why did he wait so long? Maybe it was on purpose. Or maybe work was just chaotic. It was hard to know with him. Usually, she didn’t question it, but now it was so difficult not to.

Emily walked to the mirror in her bedroom. She looked responsible, respectable, like a working professional, in a pair of black slacks, ballet flats, and a patterned silk blouse. Nothing like the queen she was in college, with her tight pleather pants and heels. Her hair had been twisted up into a chignon and clipped in place all day, but now it was coming undone. She unclasped the clip and let her hair fall in waves to her shoulders. She looked at herself the way Rob might, if he saw her. She looked older, for sure, tired, sad. She shook her head. Well, it was a good thing he wouldn’t see her.

She slipped on her suede jacket—a subdued one, not like the leather moto jacket she used to wear—and headed for City Winery.

32

Emily got there a little late, and Rob was already on stage. The room felt electric as she entered it; he’d already worked his magic and had the audience mesmerized. Her ticket was for a bar stool in the back, so she turned and walked toward the bar, glad the house lights hadn’t been completely dimmed.