Covet by Tracey Garvis Graves Read Free Book Online

yesterday, but I asked for an extension so I could take the kids to the zoo.” Thankfully, my client understood; she’s a working mom, too.
    “That’s okay,” he says. “We’ll be fine.”
    Chris is more than capable of handling this outing alone, but since he started traveling we’ve lapsed into tag-team parenting, which means the kids spend plenty of time with each of us individually, but we spend very little time together as a family. I add this development to the long list of worries I already have.
    “You don’t need to work so much now, you know,” Chris adds.
    Oh, the irony.
    “I’m not accepting that many new projects,” I say. “This one is just time sensitive.” I don’t explain to Chris that my desire to scale back has more to do with the kids being home this summer than any desire to curtail my workload; I plan on adding as many projects as I can handle when school starts again. I like the independence and the satisfaction of earning an income, and there’s a small part of me that also thinks I might like the idea of a safety net. That if I’m ever truly alone I’ll be able to stand on my own two feet.
    “I’m going to get my oil changed and do the grocery shopping,” I say. “I’ll drop off your suits at the cleaner’s.”
    Chris nods, running his fingers through sleep-tousled hair. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks.” There are shadows under his eyes and I’d tell him to get more sleep, but he won’t listen. “Can you refill my prescription while you’re out?” he asks.
    “Sure,” I say.
    “I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly I can hardly hear him. “I’m just not ready to stop taking the pills yet.”
    “Chris, it’s okay. Really.” Besides, what can I say? I’m the one who insisted on the antidepressant in the first place. I top off his coffee cup and give his shoulder a squeeze. He reaches up and grabs my hand, squeezes back. It’s the first touch I’ve received from him in months.
    When Chris and the kids leave for the water park I buckle down and finish my work, then head out to begin my errands. I finish the grocery shopping quickly, amazed at how much I can accomplish when I’m not dragging two squabbling kids along. After dropping off the groceries at home, I get my oil changed, deal with the dry cleaning, fill the prescription, and then pull into the Starbucks next door. I order an iced latte, sipping it at one of the shaded outdoor tables. The marquee for a nearby movie theater catches my eye. My family won’t be home for hours, so I wander over and buy a ticket for
Sex and the City 2
; I’ve been dying to see it. My mood instantly improves when I find a seat in the half-empty theater, the air-conditioning a welcome contrast to the rising temperature and the blazing afternoon sunshine.
    I love going to the movies; I always have. There’s nothing quite like the anticipation of the story that’s about to be played out on the big screen. I’ve never been to a movie by myself before, but once the lights go down and the previews start, I wonder why I waited so long.
    That’s where Chris and I met back in 1998, sitting next to each other in a movie theater when we were twenty-two years old. Kendra, a girlfriend I’d met during my internship and that I still kept in contact with, had called me up late that afternoon. “A bunch of us are getting together to see
There’s Something About Mary
tonight. Are you interested?”
    It was August. I’d moved into my own apartment after graduation, a cute studio in a quiet neighborhood that was within a few miles of my first postcollege, full-time job. I had no one to help me if my blood sugar got too low or too high, so managing my diabetes became more important than ever. It made my parents nervous and they tried to talk me out of it, but I’d looked forward to having my own place, relishing the thought of peace and quiet after the noise and chaos of the three friends I had roomed with for the past two years. I craved