In April 1996, Jeffrey R. Smith moved from Florida into my apartment above the Old Print Shop on Lexington Avenue in New York City. I had lived alone for almost 10 years at that point. I cannot say I was living the Carrie Bradshaw life, but I was an independent woman. I loved my job at ABC News, I traveled around the world for work and for pleasure, and I was a doctoral candidate in English literature at NYU. It was a good life, made immeasurably better when Jeff moved in. More.
Everything My Husband Wasn’t There For