Loverboy (The Company #2) - Sarina Bowen Page 0,17

advertising firm paid for weekly sessions with Saroya. But the cost would prove to be greater than I could tally. Spalding’s infatuation was like watching a slow train wreck. He began bringing her up in every conversation. He’d ask her opinion on every small decision he made.

One time he called her from our brunch table at a cafe to ask how he should order his eggs.

The only thing he never consulted her about was the thing I most wanted him to plan—his return to work. At that point I was carrying our finances. And Ginny was struggling, so I was funding her, too. I took on extra projects at work, trying to ensure a hefty year-end bonus.

Meanwhile, Spalding spent his days meditating and browsing the shops. He bought richly illustrated coffee table books and handmade Italian sandals, claiming that his new finds helped him “walk the path of happiness.”

Until—finally—he called me at work one day. “I’ve come to a big decision, and I’d like to share it with you. I made a reservation at Per Se.”

“Wow, okay,” I said. “Can’t wait.”

I put on a dress and I met him at Thomas Keller’s famously expensive restaurant overlooking Central Park. When I got there, he had a bottle of champagne waiting at the table. I settled in for a romantic meal with my dashing husband. Spalding has the sort of genteel face and bearing that makes people turn for a better look. Gleaming dark hair. Crisp shirts. Shiny shoes.

I used to be in awe of Spalding. I used to feel a little stunned that he’d chosen me. And for the first hour that night at Per Se, I still felt lucky. Then, during the fish course, I asked Spalding what he wanted to talk about. I was ninety percent sure he wanted to tell me he was ready to go back to work, or to make a career change. Something I could support. And then I would tell him how much I wanted to scale back and try to have a child.

“Posy, I think we should open our marriage.”

“Open it,” I’d said with a smile, because I was still thinking about babies. “What do you mean?”

“I think we should see other people. Sexually,” he said, smiling back at me.

A small piece of skate became briefly lodged in my throat as I struggled to swallow. I ended up coughing into my napkin.

Spalding made a prissy face that I saw whenever I did something that wasn’t up to his standards. “What?” I gasped. “You mean you want to have sex with—” I didn’t finish the sentence, just in case I’d misunderstood.

“With other women,” he finished. “And you could do the same, if you chose to. We’re missing that spark we used to have. This will be a good way to get it back.”

“No it won’t,” I’d said immediately.

He’d frowned then, as if it had never occurred to him that I wouldn’t go along with this. “Posy, you’ve never tried very hard in bed. You’re basically a starfish. I never held it against you, though, because you’re good at other things. But at this point in my life, I need to walk the path of joy. This way you’ll learn to become adventurous.”

“Adventurous? I’m just tired. I work like a dog.” It was just sinking in that my husband wasn’t going to let this go. This was not a bad dream that I could wake up from. “Are you having an affair?” I’d asked him quietly.

“No!” he said quickly, looking insulted. “That’s a nasty question, Posy. I’m trying to save our marriage.”

Saroya, I thought suddenly. This was her idea. But I wasn’t going to say her name aloud. He’d deny it, and I’d sound petty. “No, Spalding. That’s not my idea of saving a marriage. And what’s your end game? And how will you explain it to our future children?” Daddy can’t tuck you in tonight. He’s at his girlfriend’s house.

Yeah? No.

“I’m sorry you feel this way,” he’d said primly, adjusting his napkin in his lap. “The root of suffering is attachment, Posy. This is what I need. So you’ll have to think it over.”

The root of my suffering is you, said a little voice in my head. It was the first time in my marriage when I’d allowed myself to think that.

Taking a deep breath, I’d glanced around the beautiful room, with its twinkling view of nighttime Manhattan beyond the grand windows. “Okay.” This was actually happening. I was going to end my marriage