After my sitting through my daughter's dance class and picking up something from Zabar's for dinner, I found myself wondering just what I had exactly gotten myself into. I knew it was a bad idea from the moment I agreed to meet with him, but I couldn't say “no”. Whatever bit of vocabulary I seemed to have made the executive decision to go on a leisurely stroll, leaving “yes” behind to man the controls (or lack thereof) of my speech.

It didn't really dawn on me until I was chopping vegetables for the stir-fry I was planning to make. I'm having lunch with my ex. Lunch with the man who broke my heart, lunch with the same man I tried so hard to give up on, but just couldn't seem to let go of…even after I said “I do.” I had forgotten about him for so long and just when I finally thought I had packed away every last memory of him into tiny little boxes in my mind, he walked back into my life. Cute as ever, but a little gray around the edges, he was still able to take my breath away. For whatever reason, I was drawn to him. It was like we were cosmically bound to one another by some kind of invisible tether, unbeknownst to us. No matter how many times we tried to cut it, it always managed to find a way to heal.

As my thoughts carried me away to a far away place, I nearly sliced the tip of my finger off when my husband startled me by coming into the kitchen and slipping his arms around my waist.

“Mmm…something smells good and I don't just mean you.”

That was Andy for you; full of puns and occasionally hot air which he chose to release invariably through both his mouth and ass.

“What's cookin'?”

“Szechuan. Or more specifically, Szechuan chicken stir-fry with jasmine rice and spring rolls.”

“Sounds great. I'm sure it'll be tasty as always…” He pecked me on the cheek and moved from in behind me around to the bar in front of my prep area, grabbing a stool and sitting down.

“So….” He began. “I noticed little one's busy playing with her dolls. Where's the other kid?”

I hated when he referred to them like they were assets and liabilities, but when you have odd collectables in the house and an uptight husband, it happens more than you'd like to admit.

“He's in his room working on his homework. He's got a big science project due at the end of this week.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, grabbing for a piece of carrot off of the cutting board.

I nodded, continuing to hack away at the produce…and my feelings.

“What's he makin' this time?”

Before I could answer, Lila ran in as fast as her little legs could carry her.

“DADDY! DADDY!!”

I dropped my knife.

“What is it, sweetheart?”

She looked at me with eyes as big as saucers. “THERE'S A SPIDER! A BIG ONE! COME QUICK AND SMUSH IT!”

Andy moved from his stool. “Keep cookin'. I'm on it.”

I nodded as Lila grabbed his hand and began to drag him out of the room. If I were being completely honest, being rescued from conversation with Andy was quite a relief…which should be kind of sad since he's my husband, but if you've ever been married, you know what I mean. Sometimes we all just need our space and right now, I needed mine.

More than anything, I needed to be alone with my thoughts. As my heart challenged my mind, trying to see which one could race faster, I mulled over everything in my head and found myself going over possible outfits for my outing with Blaine.

For the first time in a long time, I gave a damn about looking hot for someone other than the man I married and strangely enough, I didn't feel horrible about it.

My marriage with Andrew was good, even though we fought over the pettiest of things, but the dynamic between us isn't like it used to be. Now built up irritation usually leads to fights that lead to one of us sleeping on the couch instead of spending hours having makeup sex like we did in our past.

The more I thought about it, the more I missed the little things: being held, tiny, tender kisses that would greet me when I came home, the occasional meal that I didn't have to cook myself. And…the more I thought about the little things, the more I thought about Blaine.

There was no way to get around what I was feeling. It was unavoidable and took great pleasuring in reminding me of my foolish thoughts (and heart) by constantly slapping me in the face with every step I tried to take.

As I walked down the street towards the Starbucks where we met, I kept glancing over my shoulder. So this is what a cheater feels like. But I wasn't cheating, was I? Eating with someone you used to date in public is hardly cheating. It's not like I lied to my husband and said that I was going out with a friend from work…which I absolutely did and if I wasn't going to hell before, I certainly am now.

I glanced at my phone before entering the café. 12:15. I was early. In attempts to control my nervous jitters and avoid glares from the baristas for taking up space, I ordered my usual non-fat mocha, opting for a tall, and sat in the exact spot as the day before. Out of nervous habit, I found myself swirling the coffee in its cup after every couple of sips. I tried to occupy my time by staring out the window, watching tourists pass by as city natives grumpily walked around them. As I was considering taking another peek at my phone, warm breath began to tickle over my ear.

“I'm so sorry I'm late.”