The Status of All Things by Liz Fenton, Lisa Steinke Page A

unfaithful—”
    Max had drawn the card with the question: What would you do if your spouse cheated on you? He’d thought about it for not even a split second before swiftly responding, “We’d work through it.” The room had erupted, everyone’s opinion flying through the air. I’d righteously thought, But neither of us would ever do that . And even though Max had sworn up and down that he didn’t actually cheat with Courtney, he had still betrayed me emotionally, even if their lips had never met. And instead of attempting to work out whatever problems we’d had, he’d simply chosen her.
    “I don’t think anyone knows how they’ll really behave in situations they’ve never been in before. I think people would like to believe they’d act a certain way, but you just never know . . .” Jules’ words became softer, eventually disappearing.
    “Obviously,” I scoffed. “But he didn’t even give us a chance to work on our relationship.”
    “But remember, you have a rare opportunity here—to pinpoint where things went wrong,” Jules argued. “So you can try to fix it before it gets too far.”
    “True. But I would never have expected this to happen now . You always think there’s a chance down the road, maybe ten years in, but not before you even say I do .”
    I’d felt an instant spark when I met Max at our mutual friends’ wedding—after Jules had spotted him, I’d let my gaze follow hers and they’d landed on a man with olive-green eyes, dark brown hair that was slightly long on the top, and a strong jaw lined with stubble. He’d grinned as he recognized Jules, and as his mouth opened, he’d revealed the dimple that to this day remains hidden unless he smiles just a certain way—a feature he only brings out when he wants to charm executives, my mother, and probably Courtney too.
    After she introduced us, we’d sat outside on the patio and talked for hours—Max throwing his jacket around my bare shoulders the moment I shuddered from the cool breeze that had begun to blow. After our first date, he’d insisted on walking me to my front door, where he’d given me a warm hug and gently brushed my cheek with his lips. Before I’d closed the door, he’d thanked me for a night of stimulating conversation. Max’s attention had felt so pure, so transparent; he had genuinely seemed interested in what made me me . In the past, I’d always felt as if I had to find a new way to sparkle to keep my date interested, but with Max, I could finally let go of the breath I always seemed to be holding . On our fourth date, I’d pushed aside the Chinese food that had just been delivered and pulled him close, whispering I had something else in mind. He hadn’t argued.
    Somehow we’d found our way from there to here. What happened to the people who would watch an episode of Top Chef and then try, usually unsuccessfully, to re-create a dish that didn’t look that hard to make, musing that Padma would criticize us for our lack of salt? Where was the couple that dressed head to toe in Lakers garb and cheered on Kobe in our living room, often laughing that we should probably just buy a ticket to the actual game already? And what had become of the Max and Kate who I had thought were such a perfect fit that I’d had a silly puzzle made from a picture of us and given it to him last Christmas?
    I wondered if Max had started to pull away during the wedding planning. I was more opinionated than Max was in general—especially when it came to the details of our nuptials—but that didn’t mean I wasn’t willing to take his feelings into consideration. In the days after he proposed, I had asked him a million questions as I scoured TheKnot.com with a fierceness that rivaled my approach to preparing for final exams in college, searching for the style of wedding we might want—backyard country or hotel chic? I’d wanted to know: Did he prefer I walk down the aisle to a popular song or to a harp? Did he think we