Excerpt from Seduction Theory by Emily Adrian, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"I didn't realize you and Sandy were so close."

"She had another child since then. We've drifted apart."

"Abigail's son is five." Ethan found it stirring to imagine Abigail pregnant.

Simone said nothing. She watched the ceiling fan for a long time, and Ethan became nervous. Finally, she asked, "Why do you want to be Abigail's friend?"

His answer was unrehearsed. His answer would have been the same if his wife had asked "Why do you want to have sex with Abigail?" or "Why do you feel such tenderness for her fleshy little body?" But Simone hadn't asked those questions, and one of the profound comforts of personhood was never having to answer a question no one had asked.

"She reminds me of kids I grew up with. She reminds me of my sister, if I had one. You ever read one of those profiles of twins separated at birth, or women and the children they gave up for adoption reunited later in life? And how they can tell they're related? They do the same hand gestures or both gag on olives? Does that sound insane?"

"I had a thought," said his wife. "I've been thinking about something."

Ethan might have noticed the difference between those statements were his heart not in his throat.

"Maybe I shouldn't come to Oregon," she said.

He stroked her hair and asked, "Why don't you want to come to Oregon?"

"I want to train for a fall marathon. And I want to read Mrs. Dalloway with Robbie. And I don't know, I always say yes to everything — but maybe? Try this. Ask me if I'll go to Oregon with you."

Rarely, but lately, their most intimate interactions carried an air of performance. If Ethan asked himself for whom they were performing and why, he became terrified, and so he didn't.

"Simone, will you come to Oregon with me? Will you eat black bean burgers with my mother? Will you sleep on a mattress stained with my adolescent fantasies?"

As a younger man he'd dreaded separations from Simone. When she took a semester's leave from Vassar to grieve her mother and pack up her childhood home, Ethan wept himself to sleep each night. When Simone had abandoned Ethan in New Haven so she could present at conferences or interview for postdocs she didn't end up needing, he'd felt hollow and useless until the moment she returned. But they were older now. They had spent years upon years in each other's company. To part ways would not be painful but an exquisite imitation of pain, like watching a sad movie. He looked forward to sleeping in the center of a queen-sized bed — to building his wife knee by hip by shoulder in his mind. The ache would be so satisfying!

Simone said, "You know, I think I'll stay."

Ethan felt calm, or rather, elated. He enjoyed not knowing what would happen.

Excerpted from Seduction Theory by Emily Adrian. Copyright © 2025 by Emily Adrian. Excerpted by permission of Little Brown & Company. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.