She probably says that to get a rise out of me, but we’re past that. At least, I am. “Doesn’t the fact that you want to sleep with another guy tell you something?”

“Maybe we just need a jolt, and experimenting a little could do that. Dr. Cairns’ suggestion about an open relationship was to save what we have, not end it. You once asked me to marry you, Ezra.”

“And you refused. You did us both a favor.”

“You only asked because I was pregnant.”

We’d only been dating five months when she realized she was pregnant. My mother had asked in horror if Aiko was planning to raise her grandson as Hindu? Hearing that most Vietnamese are Buddhist, not Hindu, didn’t make Mama feel any better. I assured her my girlfriend didn’t practice anything except photography. Aiko’s profession is her religion, and she’s practically evangelical in her zeal for it. She is about as much a practicing Buddhist as I am a Jew, despite my mother’s efforts.

“You know I don’t believe in marriage,” Aiko says, “but we’re as close as I’ll ever come. You don’t just discard that after so many years.”

There are lots of ways I could pick this argument apart. One of the main reasons I haven’t is still asleep down the hall.

Noah.

It’s so simple with the three of us living under the same roof. I cannot see my son less. I want to read with him every night before he goes to bed. Breaking up with Aiko means breaking this arrangement, and things may have cooled between us sexually and emotionally, but we’re still a family. We’ve raised an extraordinary little human so far, knock on wood, and we make a good team. I had no reason to disrupt that, but I’m afraid the disintegrating romance is now eroding everything else.

She loops her arms around my neck and lifts up to whisper in my ear. ”Even if I fuck someone else, I’ll always want to fuck you. I still want you, Ezra, and you still want me. Remember Taco Tuesday?”

Our whole neighborhood gathers for tacos every Tuesday, and one night a few weeks ago the patio bartender had a heavy hand. Wednesday morning, I had a hangover, hazy memories and regret to show for it. I’m not a monk. Every morning in the shower, my sexual frustration goes down the drain. I can’t explain it other than we’ve been living like roommates for so long, practically platonically, that sex with Aiko just doesn’t feel right anymore. Something can feel good, but not feel right. That night, we may have managed to feel good for a few moments, but I can’t remember the last time we felt right together.