Jeff Slade paused, for he knew he had my attention now.

As nonchalantly as possible, I said, “And so what did you do?”

Jeff suppressed a smile as he used the small red straw to stir his Shirley Temple. “I don’t know if that’s your business.”

“Oh, come on.”

“A gentleman never speaks of such things.”

“You know what? You’re absolutely right.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you . . .”

I waited as Jeff Slade took his time. Then, finally, he said: “I did what you would’ve done.”

When I got home that night, Kate met me with news of Teddy. “What’s more heartbreaking than a small child throwing up? They take it so personally. At least Teddy did. Between dry heaves, he was crying, saying, ‘But, Mommy, I did nothing wrong.’ ”

Only after scrubbing the small throw rug in the boys’ room, only after Teddy’s pajamas were hand-washed in the kitchen sink, and only after we started to get ready for bed did Kate and I speak of the earlier part of the evening.

Kate, while looking for her nightgown, said, “Was he upset when I didn’t come back?”

“Disappointed, but I think he understood. He said something about how he can relate now that he has Korky . . .”

“You mean the dog?”

“Yeah, his dog. That dog with the giant dick.”

Kate either ignored the dick remark or didn’t hear it because she was busy pulling her nightgown over her head. “Did you have a nice time after I left?”

“Oh, pretty much the evening fizzled without you there.”

“You’re nice to say so.”

“He said he comes to New York a lot. He said we should go out again. He said he was very tight with the owner of Nobu.”

“That would be Robert De Niro.”

“He didn’t say that.”

“Only because he’s discreet.”

I had to laugh. Kate asked why I was laughing. “Well, Jeff Slade is anything but discreet.” To prove my point, I told her Jeff’s Angelina Jolie story.

“Okay,” Kate conceded, “so he’s not discreet.”

“So do you think he slept with her?”

“First of all, it’s not our business—and yes, of course he did—and what do I care if he slept with Angelina Jolie?”

“Liar. You’re lying.”

“No, really, I don’t care.”

As I lay there next to Kate, I reheard Jeff’s words: I did what you would’ve done. This prompted me to ask, “Aren’t you the least bit curious about what I’d do?”

“It’s beside the point, though, honey, isn’t it? I mean, she would never . . . not you . . . especially now that she’s the biggest movie star/ coolest mom in the entire world. But if she were to ever throw herself at you, I only hope you’d ask if I could roll around with Brad.”

Then Kate turned out the light.

In the dark, I stewed over what to say. Should I be insulted?

Kate broke the long silence when she sighed contentedly. “He’s turned out to be an okay guy.”