AND MEG CALLS KEVIN “Testicle Writer,” or sometimes just “Testy.” My husband and my best friend enjoy a lively, jokey, independent friendship that I pretend to appreciate, but in fact it rankles me. Even before I met David, I sometimes felt vaguely threatened by the happy collision of my two worlds, the receptacles of my two distinct and distinctly private selves meeting and laughing and forming an exclusive bond. Now, I recognize the heightened stakes of it: what if I reveal to Meg everything about David, and then Kevin asks Meg if something is going on with me, and she feels compelled to confess to him? Separately, Kevin and Meg always tell me how much they like each other, and they invariably add to their declarations of mutual affection something like, “I’m so glad that I love your husband/best friend so much; it makes things so easy.”On Saturday night, just before we’re supposed to leave to meet Meg and Steve for drinks, Kevin pulls me down onto the couch next to him.
