It’s 5 a.m. and The Graduate and I are sound asleep in his bed. We had a good night. We ate dinner on his patio and sat cross-legged on his couch as we played card games and got silly tipsy as we sang along to our favorite songs. I sang wildly out of tune, of course.
We made a special playlist to commemorate the night—all of our mutually favorite songs to celebrate our first sleep-in date. (Yes, it’s saccharine sweet, cute-as-cupcakes annoying to anyone who loathes mushy-gushy dating stories. But I must admit, I loved it.)
The Graduate and I have had plenty of sleepovers. But work, alarm clocks and the thought of having to wade through rush-hour traffic forced us out of each other’s beds earlier than we’d prefer. We were ready for the inaugural lazy Sunday.
At 5:15, he rolled over and kissed my shoulder. I sighed and smiled.
Then it happened: His cell phone rang. He looked at it, grumbled and ignored it. Then the house phone rang—and rang and rang at least 20 times. His cell rang again.
“Who is it?” I asked, as if I didn’t already know. No one else would be this persistent. This was the work of a crazed girl. This was The Ex.
Keep reading "Elizabeth: The Other Woman" »