The Wives. Lauren Weisberger

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       8

       Happy to Sip and Not to See

      MIRIAM

      Miriam tiptoed back into her still-dark bedroom and slipped under the covers. It felt so supremely indulgent to crawl back in bed. Like when she and Paul had first met and would sleep until eleven on the weekends, venture out in their sweats to pick up coffee and bagels, and then head straight back to bed with their favorite sections of The New York Times. Now Wednesdays at eight-fifteen were the new weekend: Paul worked from his home office that day and made it a point not to start until ten, since most other days he was up and out early. She snuggled up with him, pressed her body against his, and inhaled. Something about his neck in the morning always smelled delicious.

      He smiled without opening his eyes and murmured, ‘What did you do with our children?’

      ‘All three off to school. It’s just you and me. And Emily, but she doesn’t count. What do you think about that?’ She reached her hand under the covers and into the waistband of his boxers, but he turned away.

      ‘I’ve got to get up. An earlier-than-usual call today.’ He gave her a dry peck on the lips, headed into the bathroom, and closed the door behind him. A moment later, she heard the shower turn on.

      Miriam kicked off the covers and sighed. She’d had the idea to strip off her stretched-out leggings and yogurt-splattered T-shirt before waking him and had even slipped into what qualified as lingerie after three kids and seven years of marriage: a sleeveless cotton nightshirt and no underwear. What more could the man want?

      She followed him into the bathroom and appraised him as he stepped out onto the bath mat after his usual quick rinse. There was no denying it, he was still handsome: broad-shouldered and small-waisted, annoyingly so. His close-cropped hair was starting to turn salt and pepper, but that just made him look more distinguished. And he still had the body of a runner – lean, ropy, and tight – despite the fact that Miriam ran more than he did these days, which really wasn’t saying much.

      ‘What are you up to today?’ Paul asked as he tied his towel around his waist and swiped on some deodorant.

      Paul had never shown anything but complete support for her decisions. Whether she was working eighty hours a week at Skadden or enjoying her new, more leisurely life, he was completely behind her. He didn’t mean it now in a snarky way, he was just expressing interest in her day. Still, she felt a little stupid telling him that she was planning to attend a sip ’n’ see at eleven.

      ‘That sounds nice,’ he said through a mouthful of toothpaste.

      ‘I mean, who does that? A formal baby viewing at eleven a.m. on a Wednesday? Does no one have anywhere else to be?’

      He spat and rinsed. ‘Go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.’ Another unsexy peck, this one on the cheek. ‘I’ve got to jump on this call. I’ll see you at the school at three. And have fun at the party!’

      ‘Thanks,’ she muttered, but he was already gone.

      A scan through her own closet revealed a lot of leftover work clothes and plenty of workout clothes, but not much else. She pulled out a pair of black pants, boot-cut and professional, with a white silk blouse, kitten-heeled patent-leather shoes, and her late grandmother’s gold-leaf necklace. Miriam glanced in the mirror and nodded with approval. Totally inoffensive. Blending in. Perfect for anything from a conference room to a Hadassah luncheon. But when she walked into the kitchen, Emily turned around from her perch in front of the cabinet-mounted TV, coffee mug in hand, and said, ‘Really? You look like a cater-waiter.’

      ‘Thanks. You always know just what to say.’ Miriam stuck a mug in the coffee machine and hit ‘start.’ ‘Where are you going?’ she asked Emily, taking in her leather leggings, chunky cardigan tied off at the waist, and four-inch booties.

      ‘With you,’ Emily said.

      ‘Like hell you are.’ Miriam splashed some leftover milk from one of the kid’s cereal bowls into her coffee and took a sip. ‘Seriously, where?’

      ‘I can’t sit here anymore. Please.’

      ‘I’m hardly tying you to the bed each day. You’re free to go any time. I’ve even offered you a ride to the airport.’

      ‘I know, I know. Miles isn’t home to visit for another couple weeks, and you know I hate being alone. Plus, I can’t face everyone after this whole thing with Kim Kelly. Don’t make me leave. I even kind of sort of like it here. In a weird, fucked-up way.’

      ‘I’m not making you leave! But there is no way you’re coming with me to a sip ’n’ see. You weren’t invited. You don’t even like babies.’

      ‘I’m sure there’ll plenty of wine, so I’ll be fine. Please? I won’t embarrass you.’ Emily motioned again to Miriam’s outfit with a look of pure disgust. ‘Although I hardly think I’ll be the problem.’

      Miriam couldn’t help but laugh. ‘You are such a bitch. Fine. I’ll say you’re my pathetic, childless, out-of-town friend who’s going through a really hard time right now. But promise me you’ll keep your mouth closed. It’d be nice to meet some new people without you scaring them all off.’

      Emily headed to the mudroom. ‘Come on, we don’t want to be late.’

      The drive to the sip ’n’ see took them through Greenwich’s downtown, which upon first glance resembled a charming version of a pedestrian-friendly, all-American Any Town – until you noticed the storefronts: Tiffany, rag & bone, Baccarat, Alice and Olivia, Joie, Vince, Theory. One of the only mom-and-pop stores sold and serviced fur coats. Range Rovers and Audi SUVs occupied at least fifty percent of the metered spots.

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