Page 2 of Finding Home
Once I reach my car, I take a deep breath because I hate driving in the city due to the never-ending traffic. It doesn’t matter if I’m driving in the middle of the night or middle of the day, it’s always busy.
Come to think of it, I never cared for living in the city, period.
It was never a dream of mine to stay here. I always thought this would be my sister’s life—not mine. I had these visions of living in a small town in a white house with a wrap-around porch, giving way to views of the land in every direction. A vision of a lake on one side and mountains on the other. The best of both worlds in one place to call home.
Having never lived anywhere other than a city, the idea of small-town life was merely a fantasy, a stark contrast to my reality.
When I started dating Theodore in college, I didn’t think he would be into politics like my father. I met him in one of my marketing classes. He wanted to be an accountant, and I wanted to get into advertising. Since my sister and I always had similar goals, she tried to get into business, starting a career with her love for interior design, and I wanted to work with her as her marketing director. But leave it to my dad to invite Theodore over for one family dinner early in the relationship, and his mind changed quickly. He changed his major to political science, a turn of events I never saw coming, and now here we are.
You can say my father is a very persuasive person.
I gave up that dream and the chance to leave San Francisco tolive in a small town for Theodore. This is our life now, and while it has its downs, there are plenty of upsides as well.
I have an incredible husband who works hard to be the best mayor he can be, and I’ve made some really good friends through this life. Other wives who are in the same situation as I am where their spouses are busy and taken away for days on end for meetings. We often meet for brunch or early dinners to get out of the house. Most of them have personal drivers and are constantly trying to convince me I should get one too. But I hate the idea of inconveniencing anyone, despite knowing it would be theirjob. It still feels weird to me.
After a quick ten-minute drive, I find myself standing in front of his secretary’s desk, looking around to see if anyone is here. She’s nowhere to be found. Glancing down at the basket of cookies on my arm, I decide to walk in. If he’s in a meeting, I can always excuse myself.
Once I turn down the hall leading to his office, I notice the door and blinds are shut.
Shit.
I guess he has a meeting in another part of the building.
Peeking down the hall, I still don’t see anyone around before looking back at his door. An idea pops into my head that maybe I’ll leave the cookies on his desk with a Post-it note saying I was here.
I open the door slowly, and I’m immediately taken aback. My feet don’t move as my jaw drops open. Every part of me should want to turn away, but I can’t.
My husband’s bare ass faces me while he has a blonde bent over the chair in the corner of his office. The sound of wet skin slapping together fills the air. Mixed with the sound of this woman crying out his name.
“Oh, Teddy. That’s it. That’s the spot,” she pants.
A gasp escapes my throat, and my basket of cookies falls to the ground with a light thud before my hands cover my mouth in shock.
He stops abruptly, and his head snaps to face me.
“Blair,” he says quickly, frantically trying to pull apart from her while grasping at his pants in an attempt to hide his dick from me. “It’s not what it looks like.”
It’s not what it looks like?
Are you joking right now?
There are so many things I want to say, but I keep my mouth shut. I’m sure if I were a stronger woman, I would scream and shout and beat the hell out of this woman. Instead, I straighten my spine like I’ve been programmed to do as the mayor’s wife and fight like hell not to show any emotion toward this situation.
Anger rages through me, but I don’t have the fight in me right now.
Even if I did, how do you find words to say to your husband after seeing him with another woman right in front of your face?
Turning around, I slam his office door and run for the parking garage without saying anything. He doesn’t even deserve a reaction.
It’s not what it looks like.
Once I’m safely in my car, I let my head fall back on the headrest, forcing my breathing to steady and willing my body to relax in the seat. And I wait. I wait for the tears from years spent with this man to fall from my eyes. But they don’t come. Even with every emotion surging through me, they don’t because I’m so angry at giving up so much of my life for a man who can’t even remain faithful.
I can't stay at our home.
I can’t sleep in that bed again.
I pick up the phone and dial the one person who’s always in my corner, praying she’s in between one of her many meetings. She picks up on the first ring.
