“What happened to your girlfriend? She didn’t come between you?”
“Roman and I made a pact. We’d never go for the same girl again. I dumped her the day we got back, and Roman and I have been buddies ever since.”
“Oddly, that’s kind of sweet.”
Drew laughed. “That’s us. Roman’s the guy who goes through a woman’s garbage at the curb in the middle of the night to find used condoms, and I’m the guy who slips what he’s found to opposing counsel in the middle of a divorce trial. We’re both sweet.”
I scrunched my nose. “Is that a true story? It’s disgusting. Physically and morally.”
“How can you say that without knowing what my client was put through? Revenge can be very sweet.”
“What part of revenge is sweet? Where you both feel horrible after the revenge is complete instead of just one of you?”
Drew took a long draw on his water and leaned one hip against the counter. “I forgot you’re the eternal relationship optimist. Speaking of which, how was your date last night?”
“Date?”
“With Mr. Bowtie.”
“Oh. Dinner was nice. But I wouldn’t exactly call it a date.”
“No action at the end of the night, huh?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Nothing happened between us physically. We had a nice dinner and talked a lot about work. Baldwin’s been trying to get me an adjunct position at NYU where he teaches. I don’t think I would ever want to be full academia, but I’d love to teach part time and see patients part time. Anyway, after dinner we said goodbye at my door.”
“What’s the deal with that guy? Is he in or is he out?”
“I don’t know. He sends me mixed signals. Like last night. He was supposed to be going out with Rachel—a woman he’s been seeing—and then he shows up here unannounced, changes his mind, and takes me out to dinner last minute.”
“Did you ever talk to him about how you feel?”
“It’s never been the right time.”
Drew pulled his head back. “The right time? What was wrong with last night?”
“He’s seeing someone.”
“So?”
“I don’t want to interfere in his relationship.”
“I didn’t say to fuck the guy. Tell him how you feel.”
“Is that what you would do?”
Drew snickered. “Actually, normally I fuck my dates and don’t discuss my feelings. But that’s not your style.”
I sighed. “I wish that was my style.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “I can help with that, if you want to give something new a try.”
“How generous of you.”
“Oh, I’d be plenty generous. Trust me.”
My heart fluttered a little at the sight of Drew’s wicked grin. I shook my head. “Is this what my life’s come to? I’m a couples counselor, and I’m getting my own relationship advice from a divorce lawyer.”
“You’re an idealist. I’m a realist.”
I straightened my shoulders. “And what exactly is your relationship status, if you’re such an expert?”
“I have lots of relationships.”
“You mean sexual relationships?”
“Yes. I like sex. In fact, I fucking love sex. It’s the other shit I don’t like.”
“You mean the relationship part?”
“I mean the part where two people get together and start to rely on each other, share a life even, and then one of them fucks the other one over.”
“Not every relationship turns out that way.”
“In every relationship, one person ends up screwing the other at some point. Unless you keep it to just screwing. Then there are no false expectations.”
“I think your divorce and line of work have tainted your outlook.”
He shrugged. “Tainted works for me.”
***
Sarah and Ben Aster were a prime example of the reason I loved couples counseling. I’d started seeing Sarah after their son was born and realized quickly that their relationship problems were much more than the added stress of having a new baby. The couple had only been together for four months when Sarah became pregnant, which led to a quickie wedding and having the normal honeymoon-marriage period cut short by the arrival of a baby.
After such a whirlwind, the couple had finally begun settling into their lives, only to discover that their hopes and dreams were very different. Ben wanted a houseful of children, a home in the suburbs with a big backyard, and Sarah to stay at home. His wife, on the other hand, wanted to stay in their tiny apartment on the Upper East Side, go back to work, and hire a nanny.
The funny thing is, they both insisted they’d told the other how they saw their future—and I believe they did. The problem lay in their communication. So even though over the last few months they’d found a way to compromise on their living arrangements by looking for a house in Brooklyn with a small yard and short commute to Manhattan, they still needed to work on communication. Which led me to this week’s exercise.
I’d asked both Sarah and Ben to bring a list of five things they wanted to accomplish over the next year. Today we’d spent most of our hour going through Sarah’s list. She would read Ben one of her planned accomplishments, and he would have to explain back to her what that plan meant. It was amazing how a couple that had been married for eighteen months could still misinterpret things.