[This story is inspired by "Decisions, Decisions," a story by Badwolf123. Although my story goes in a different direction I want to acknowledge that I drew a number of ideas for the opening of my story from his.]
*
All the way home, Nick couldn't stop grinning. He hadn't expected to hear about the promotion for another couple of weeks; but just that morning Rozand had come striding into his office and told him the good news.
"The boys upstairs really liked the way you handled that Japanese situation, Nick—and none of us sees any point in waiting around. So let me be the first one to shake the hand of our new Vice-President for Far East Sales!"
Nick had gulped, thanked Rozand, and sat with him for nearly an hour as they discussed the perks and the responsibilities of the new position. After that, Nick was simply too euphoric to stay in his office a moment longer. He called Suzanne in and gave her the news.
"Suzanne, I hope you won't mind changing jobs." He watched with amusement as her face fell.
"Nick, are you...replacing me?" She looked genuinely wounded.
"Not at all, Suzanne, you know I couldn't get a damn thing done without you! It's just that you'll have to accustom yourself to working for the Vice-President for Far East Sales—think you can handle that?"
Suzanne looked blank, then squealed with joy and gave Nick a big hug. She was a competent, rather stout middle-aged woman, a good 15 years older than Nick. But she'd worked for him practically since his first days at Thomaston Chemical and they were genuinely fond of one another. She and her husband had advised Nick and Emily on the best school districts when they were planning to buy a house; Nick had helped Suzanne's oldest son find an internship at Thomaston after his freshman year of college.
Suzanne babbled away happily, asking Nick a million questions about the new job. When he finally could get a word in edgewise he said, "I'm going to ask you to hold the fort for today, okay? I've just gotta get home and give Emily the news."
They hugged again, and Nick headed for the parking lot. Champagne, he thought. Champagne and an afternoon in bed! It was July, so Emily's summer vacation from teaching was in full swing. And both Charlie and Ben were at day camp until nearly 5:30, so there'd be plenty of time.
Nick banged the steering wheel rhythmically, singing along with the Beach Boys in a loud, not terribly pleasant baritone. No need to stop for champagne—he knew there was a bottle in the fridge unopened since their 11th anniversary about two months earlier.
He could hardly wait to burst in with his news, grab Emily and carry her upstairs to the bedroom.
But just as Nick swung the car onto Thornton Drive, he could see Emily's VW headed down the street in the opposite direction—too far away for him to catch up to her without speeding dangerously down the quiet residential street.
Shit! He grabbed his phone and called her cell, but it seemed to be turned off.
Sighing to himself, Nick parked in the garage and headed inside. Maybe she'd just gone to do the grocery shopping or run some errands; perhaps they'd still have a couple of hours later in the afternoon.
He ran upstairs and got out of his business clothes, coming back downstairs in shorts and a T-shirt. Making himself a quick sandwich and grabbing a beer, he wandered out towards the backyard patio. But as he passed the study he noticed that Emily had left the computer on. Out of pure random curiosity he went over to see what she'd been doing.
Her email was open, but it wasn't her school account. Instead it was a Hotmail account he knew nothing about, and her user name was Jane309, using her middle name and her birthday. Why did she have a second email account?
He glanced at the Sent folder, seeing only two names: her sister April out in California and an unfamiliar one: jpritz@yahoo.com. There were about eight messages to that address, including her most recently sent one. Nick clicked it open:
"J:
"ohmygod your message made my nipples stand up! I can't risk Sunday—no telling what Nick might be doing. Let's meet there Monday at 11. I can't wait!
"xxoo E"
Nick sat back in shock, staring at the screen. What the fuck?
**********************
His lunch forgotten, Nick grimly settled down to dig through Emily's email and do some digging on the Web. It took an hour before he had the full picture.
Jason Pritzker was an educational consultant who had spent two weeks at Emily's school in early May, leading professional development workshops with the teachers. The picture on his web page showed a good-looking guy who appeared to be in his late thirties, a couple of years older than Nick and Emily. He was married with several kids and lived over in Jefferson Meadows, past the airport to the east of Columbus, about 25 miles from Nick and Emily's house in Grove City.
From what Nick could tell, Pritzker had set his sights on Emily during the workshops and pursued her since. Their exchanged messages had begun cautiously, but then become increasingly open and passionate. Pritzker wrote two weeks earlier that "kissing you was the most erotic experience of my entire life—I carry around on my lips the indelible memory of you."
They'd met alone at least three times—and it was clear that while Pritzker hadn't fucked her yet, he was getting close. His most recent message to Emily had read
"My beautiful E:
"I have never seen, or touched, such gorgeous breasts in my life. You are a goddess!
"We need more time—I ache, I burn to BE with you, completely, at last. Can you get away Sunday, to the usual place?
"Your J"
The only person that Emily had apparently confided in about her affair, not surprisingly, was her big sister April. Also not surprisingly, April was horrified and kept trying to talk her out of it. A week earlier she'd written
"Are you out of your mind? Remember what happened to my friend Monica? How her husband found out and threw her out of the house? Did you know she's living in a tiny apartment and only gets to see her kids twice a week? Is fucking some handsome stranger a few times going to be worth it if Nick finds out?"
There were three or four other messages like that from April, all along the same lines. In one she wrote
"Nick LOVES you, Em—and he makes a good living and is a fantastic father to Charlie and Ben. You told me yourself that you couldn't imagine being married to a better man, and that you love him now even more than you did when you guys got married. So WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"
It seemed that Emily didn't have very good answers to that question—though Nick was hardly an unbiased judge. In one of her first messages to April about Pritzker she wrote that
"I'm hardly going to DO anything with the guy—It's just flirting, and it's harmless. And I've gotta admit, fun!
"God, April, married life can be so repetitive! Teach my students, cook the meals, wash the dishes, do the laundry, pick up the boys, do the shopping, kiss Nick, watch some TV, fall asleep, and then get up and do it all over again.
"When I'm with Jason there's that spark, you know? He looks into my eyes, holds my hands, tells me how beautiful I am—and I feel like a girl again! I'm certainly not going to break up my marriage over this; it's just a little bit of excitement."
And more recently she wrote
"Just chill a little, okay? It's just a fling, it probably won't even last a month! And I'm certainly not going to let Nick find out—I'm being super careful.
"But I can't even tell you what a turn-on it was when he—well, when we petted a little. I was just dripping! Sex with him is going to be amazing!
"And then it'll be done and Nick will have me back, happier than ever. And probably hornier, too—he's gonna love it."
**********************
Nick knew he had to get out of there. He didn't want to even SEE Emily; he needed to deal with the shock and the pain. And the anger.
He left the computer exactly as he had found it. He wolfed down his sandwich and put everything away, leaving the kitchen the way it had looked before. He ran upstairs, changed back into his business clothes, and left the house.
An idea was already brewing, but Nick knew he needed some time to think it through. He drove straight to the gym and swam laps for an hour. By the time he was showering and getting dressed, he'd pretty much worked out what he was going to do.
Nick was a direct, straightforward, goal-oriented person. As a 14-year old he'd decided he wanted more money, and he worked to put together the largest paper route he could handle. In college he'd earned a business degree in only three years because he was eager to get out into the world and make a career.
And when he met Emily at a friend's birthday party, two years after graduation, he knew after their first date that he wanted to marry her. He wooed her ardently, energetically, and romantically. He found out that she loved the ballet and got tickets. When he met her mother he asked her about Emily's favorite flowers, and bought them for her.
He did, in short, what he always did: he went after what he wanted without dithering. After eight months they were practically living together; and when Nick proposed, at Clemente's after a long romantic dinner, she cried and said, "Yes Nick, yes!" threw her arms around him, and marveled at the ring he slid onto her finger, as the people all around them smiled.
Was their marriage perfect? Certainly not—but Nick would have said it was great. Emily was generous and loving. She had a great sense of humor, she was terrific with their boys, and Nick knew that she loved him. Their sex life had gotten a bit routine, above all because two careers and taking care of an eight year-old and a six year-old added up to a lot of work, but it was still pretty satisfying.
