I'm Fine and Neither Are You(61)

Russ smirked. “You sound excited.”

I looked down at my drink, wondering how to respond. Then I thought, Why not just tell him the truth? “I used to think I’d write books one day. Kids’ books.” It was strange to admit this dream, which I’d had stashed away for so long that it had practically begun to mildew. “So sometimes the idea of staying in development another five to ten years makes me want to stab myself with a ballpoint pen.”

“Really? I didn’t know that about you.”

“Yup.”

“When’s the last time you wrote something? I mean a story, not a donor report.”

“It’s been a while,” I confessed. “As in seven years.”

His eyes widened. “That’s not like you, Pen.”

“I know, but I’m exhausted when I get home at the end of the day, and my kids completely dominate my weekends.”

“Well, is there anything you can do about that? You probably don’t have to work as hard as you do.”

“Says the guy who tosses his own projects at me.”

He shrugged. “You can say no, you know. You’re already excelling.”

Yes, I was. And suddenly I knew the answer to Yolanda’s question about what would make me happier in my position. “Do you think there’s any chance Yolanda would let me go down to 80 percent at some point?”

“Like take Fridays off?”

“Yeah. But that’s probably insane, isn’t it? Yolanda’s constantly on me to perform better. Reducing my workload is the opposite of that.”

“I have a feeling you’re wrong about that. But you’d have your salary cut. Could you swing that?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. If Sanjay landed the communications job, I might be able to, but I wasn’t one to count my chickens while they were still in the shell.

I didn’t have a chance to tell Russ that, because Minna, our alumni relations chair, had just popped up behind us. “Hey, you two! Whatcha doin’?”

I could drink two pots of French roast and still not be half as chipper as Minna. “Just talking shop,” I said.

“You going to join us plebeians at some point?” she said, motioning toward the long table at the back of the bar where our coworkers had gathered.

“Yeah, we’ll head over to you guys in a minute,” said Russ.

As she bounced away on the balls of her feet, I turned to Russ. “What about you? What’s next? Any secret dreams?”

“I only ever wanted to make good money without working too hard. The good news is, that’s what I’m doing.” He smiled self-consciously. “I’d like to get married one day, too. Maybe have some kids.”

As my eyes met his, I felt it again—the uncomfortable realization that yes, I was attracted to him. He wasn’t the kind of man I’d want to date, let alone procreate with, but I would probably go to bed with him if I weren’t married.

Which was deeply unsettling. I wasn’t worried about cheating—like Sanjay, that was simply off the table for me. But why was it so easy to think about sleeping with someone completely inappropriate instead of with the person I’d vowed to love for the rest of my natural life?

Really, Russ and I had nothing in common outside of work. Why had we just slipped into the kind of easy conversation I wanted to be having with my husband?

I broke Russ’ gaze. “This has been fun,” I said, “but I really need to get going.”

He looked confused. “You’re not going to go say hey to the minions?”

“Nope. It’s been a long day.” A long summer, really. “I want to make sure I have a chance to spend some time with Sanjay.” Yes—I needed to get home and see if maybe we could somehow share the kind of moment I’d just had with another man.



When I got home, the kids were on the sofa watching a movie, and Sanjay was at the dining room table in front of his laptop. His headphones were on, and his fingers were drumming the table to the beat of whatever music he was playing. He probably missed his band.

He took off his headphones when he saw me. “How was it?” he said.

“Fine.” I sat on the bench and took off my shoes, wondering if my face hinted at my guilty conscience. Nothing would ever happen between me and Russ; I knew that instinctively. But I would have felt a lot better if I were so incredibly attracted to and engaged by my husband that I couldn’t even entertain the thought of being with someone else. “Happy hour’s kind of an oxymoron when coworkers are involved. Russ and I had a nice chat, though.”

“That’s good.” I waited for Sanjay to ask me what we’d chatted about, thinking maybe I could somehow tell him that now I sort of understood his situation with Christina. But the question never came. “Hey,” he said, already looking back at his computer, “the kids are fed and bathed, lunches are made, and there’s a plate wrapped up for you on the counter. Do you mind if I go back to working on this? I want to finish another page or two before I call it a night.”

I sighed, feeling defeated. So much for connection. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll put the kids to sleep after their show. I’m going to go change.”

I’d just put on a nightgown when my phone, which I’d left on the dresser, lit up.