A Storied Romance

"I can't believe that anyone in your office would be dumb enough to fall for that guy's line of crap. Who was she?"

"I don't want to say, but at least she was single." I finished my sandwich and took a long pull on the long neck. "Good news is that she dumped him, too."

Sara laughed at that comment. Good. It was the setup line.

"It seems that he wrote the story up and posted it on a couple internet porn sites. He wasn't even smart enough to change the names or details."

Sara became quiet.

"Can you believe him? Of course, I'd never cheat on you in the first place, but seriously! Bragging about it?"

The light in Sara's eyes became hollow. She was disappearing from me. Not a good sign. "I know what you mean," she responded stiffly.

I put my dishes away and excused myself to take a shower. When I came back, Sara was again in her corner of the couch reading. I picked up my book and sat on the other end of the couch. I pretended to read, turned the pages at the proper intervals, looked toward the words in front of me, but the only thing on my mind was the conversation at the kitchen table.

Sara was guilty and I knew it. Her eyes told the whole story. The only question was what I wanted to do about it.

* * *

The following morning at work, I confirmed a trip to London. I planned to leave Sunday morning. That would give me a chance to rest and begin to adjust to the time change. The happy side benefit was that I would only need to be pleasant to Sara Friday evening and all day Saturday. I debated confronting Sara, but decided against selecting the nuclear option until I was fully prepared to withstand the fallout. A week away would give me time to think and prepare.

My final days at home before the trip went better than I could have expected. Sara was busy in her office drawing up plans for the next gallery opening gala and I had no reason to disturb her. Friday night we cuddled before going to sleep. All I could think about was her decision to cheat on me. Why would she do that, knowing what she was risking? Saturday was much the same. Sara wasn't feeling well and as a result, she was not interested in becoming intimate. I feigned frustration, but silently celebrated.

Sunday I was at the airport early and headed off to Heathrow. I no more than got on the airplane than I realized that I should have hired an investigator to watch Sara. I was headed out of town and that was prime time for her to schedule a rendezvous. Well, I hadn't been thinking too rationally for the past few days. My normal calm persona had been replaced by a hothead!

Ewan MacAdams was thrilled to meet me for breakfast on Monday. "It's a pleasant surprise to see you again, Peter!" he said as he greeted me. "We could have signed off on this without you making a special trip."

"We've put a lot of effort into this, Ewan. I just didn't want to risk something coming up at the last minute."

"The Board will be impressed by your dedication. Some of them are anxious to meet you, too."

We had a pleasant chat over breakfast, talking about the up coming confrontation between the United States and the United Kingdom in the World Cup. For good reason, Ewan dismissed our chances of victory. Though I knew very little about what Ewan knew as football, I still pressed our chances hard--if only to goad my new friend.

As we walked to the ITI Financial Building, Ewan said, "Have dinner with me tonight. I have a proposal I would like you to think about."

"What kind of an offer?" I queried.

Ewan smiled coyly. "Tonight at dinner! We'll talk then. Now, let's get ready to meet the ITI Legal Team and sell this agreement.

Ewan and I spent the day going over every detail of the plan that we would present to the Legal Team for the joint effort between ITI and Parker Price. Neither of us wanted even the slightest detail to go unchecked; it represented far too much work and a great deal of money for both corporations. I carefully prepared a PowerPoint presentation, tweaking it until I was satisfied.

At six o'clock I went back to the hotel to prepare for dinner. Ewan met me at seven. He took me to a quiet neighborhood pub with excellent food and quality ale. I allowed Ewan to take the lead, waiting until he broached the subject of a new proposal.

"Peter, I'm surprised you haven't pressed me for information," he said as we leaned back after finishing our meal.

"I know you'll get around to sharing what you have in mind." I responded. "I'm just focusing on finishing the job at hand. There'll be time later to discuss new projects."

"Ah, but this is not a new project--at least not in the usual sense of the word. This would be something totally different." Ewan paused while our table was cleared of dishes. "My number 2 man just moved on to bigger and better things with a firm from Germany. Since the only logical move for him at ITI would involve my position, I was forced to wish him a fond farewell. That leaves a critical opening at just the moment ITI and Parker Price are beginning a new joint venture and I want you to fill that slot."

I was stunned. "I have no idea what they will think about this back home, but I'd love to hear more. Will your Board go along with that?"

Ewan nodded. "The big man already had a conversation with Daniel Price. Parker Price would be willing to second you to us for the foreseeable future. We would pay all of your benefits with Parker Price and offer you and your wife a generous housing allowance. I don't know what you are making back in the States, but between you and me, I suspect that if you play it right, you can come aboard ITI with a generous increase in salary."

I told Ewan I would think about it and let him know before the meeting with the Board of Directors. The truth was that this was a gift from heaven, though I didn't want to sound too excited. The only problem was that I had no idea where my life was headed at the moment, and had even less of an idea when I would figure that out.

The next morning I again met Ewan for breakfast. I explained the dilemma in which I found myself. "How long do I have before I have to give you a definitive answer? It's a great offer and I'm really interested in jumping on it. If things go south with Sara, this would be a godsend. But I need a little time."

"Can you give me an answer by the end of the month? That would give you just over three weeks."

"Perfect. That way I can wind thing down at Parker Price. I wouldn't want to leave anything hanging. I owe them that, at least."

I spent the trip back home deep in thought. Somehow I needed to get to the bottom of Sara's secret life. Stalking her would not work, since the only evidence I had came during times I was out of town. The other option was to hire a professional to find the answers. I rejected that because I hated spending money to prove what I basically already knew. Besides, I did not intend to leave on a trip during the next three weeks. If I had wanted to hire someone, I should have done that before I left for London.

In the end, I decided to take the direct approach. I decided to watch and wait. I have a couple weeks; I try to gather more information--such as another story. Maybe if I studied the stories again and made a list of possible lovers, I could learn something.

As usual, Sara seemed excited to have me back home again. Since secrets appeared to be a way of life in our home, I mentioned nothing about the job offer at ITI. I spoke only of the great success of the proposal and, like a true wife, Sara was thrilled for me.

When asked about her life during my absence, Sara said that other than going to work as usual, she stayed home and puttered on a few projects around the house. I didn't detect any major changes around the house, however. Whatever the projects were, I saw no evidence.

Sara and I made love that night and slipped back into our regular schedule. The way I figured it, if she had been cheating on my already, it didn't hurt to keep up appearances. I never thought that there was anything wrong with our love life. I made no offer to try any of the new things that featured so prominently in Sara's stories. The idea of trying something out that she had already practiced on someone else unsettled my stomach.

True to form, exactly one week to the day from my return home, a story showed up on Sara's website. It was much the same as the rest, containing explicit descriptions of sexual encounters between Sara and her paramour while I was in London. I was barely a footnote--included only by inference. Toward the end of the story, Sara wrote how she "wished she could enjoy this kind of sex every night."

When I went into the office the following morning, it seemed as though every single man in the office was giving me a knowing smirk. "Poor dumb shit. His wife is cuckolding him and he hasn't a clue. For some reason, those looks were even worse than the thought of what Sara was doing. I thought about calling Todd and inviting him to Doyle's, but the thought of talking publicly about my humiliation was just too much. Instead, I decided that it was time to confront Sara once and for all. I left the office early, hoping to beat Sara back to the house.

In retrospect, it probably would have been a better idea to have confronted Sara immediately on my return. Instead of being furious, I would have been hurt and angry. Perhaps we might have been able to talk our way through the situation.

Instead, I hit Sara almost as soon as she got home. Sara arrived at her usual time. She came through the door and dropped her briefcase on her desk, kicked off her heels, and went to the refrigerator to retrieve her favorite bottled water and then came to the living room where I was sitting with a Samuel Adams.

"Honey, I'm so glad you're home tonight," she sighed. "I am exhausted; you wouldn't believe the work that Dr. Richards gave me today. And to think that it's only Thursday."

I opened the folder that I had been holding, pulled out a stapled stack of papers, and tossed it on the coffee table in the middle of the room. I made sure that it was facing Sara so that she could read it clearly.

"Sara, did you write this," Pointing to the dog-eared copy of the story Todd had shared with me."

Sara's face went almost crimson. I knew at once that I wasn't going to like the rest of the conversation. "Yes, I wrote it, Peter," she said, hesitantly.

"Then that means you also wrote these." I tossed out the other three stories--including her latest posting.

"Yes I did, but..."

I could feel the heat burning hotter within me. "Damn it, Sara! How long have you been cheating on me? Don't you remember the conversations we had about Beth and Ted? You had to know how I would react when I found out."

Sara started to respond, but I waved her off. Sara's face was frozen in frustration.

"Todd discovered the first one--or should I say, the third story of you fucking your lover behind my back. He said that it was being passed around the office. Do you know how it feels to discover that every guy in the place knows that I'm being played for the fool?"

Sara's eyes flared and she bit her lip, averting her eyes from me.

"Why would you do it, Sara? Do you hate me that much?"

"At the moment," she said in an unusually calm voice, "I hate you that much and more!"

That response was not part of the game plan. I had no response ready for her.

"What right do you have to sit there and accuse me of cheating?" she barked.

Now I exploded like independence Day fire works. I allowed the anger to control me, rather than me controlling it--as I should have. "What right?" I bellowed. "I'm your godamn husband and right there on the coffee table is a first hand description of four of the time you fucked your lover behind my back. God alone knows how many times there were that never made it into print!"

Sara picked up the stories and threw them at me. "Fuck you!" she snapped. "I don't have to sit here and take this shit form you--not after the crappy day I already had." She jumped up and stormed out.

"Sara, come back. We need to talk this out. I need to know what..."

"For the time being, you already know all you need to know. You're in no mood to hear more."

"Sara...!"

"Go to hell, you bastard!"

Sara stopped in the bedroom only long enough to grab a few things and then she headed out the door.

"Sara! Come back and talk with me." She silently headed for the garage door. "Where are you going? Sara!"

"Where do you think I'm going?"

"To your lover!"

"Yeah! That's right!" As she opened the door to the garage, she turned to me and said, "I sure have no interest in staying with you tonight!" A moment later I heard her car start and back out of the driveway.

Well, that was that!

Had Sara been innocent of all charges, she would normally have stayed and calmly talked about things. Leaving as she did only confirmed to me her guilt.

Sara was barely out the door when I called Ewan at his home number. I told him that things were moving faster than I anticipated and that I'd take the position as soon as possible. I asked him if I could have the job outright, severing completely the relationship with Parker Price. He was sure that could be worked out. I asked him if someone could search out available flats that I might look at after I arrived. "I don't know the first thing about finding a flat in London," I said.

"I'll do better than that. I'll find someone to go along and help you select one."

I got precious little sleep that night. The following morning I submitted my resignation to Daniel Price. Because I was going to ITI, he felt it best if the break was immediate. My only request was that the location of my new job be kept confidential. I shared with him the sorry state of my personal life.

My second priority for the day was to make an appointment with a lawyer. I chose Sandra Howe because she had a good reputation. Because of a cancellation, she squeezed me in that afternoon. She promised to draw up a simple no-fault divorce with a 50-50 split of the few assets Sara and I shared. The house had very little equity, so I told her to either sell it or give it to Sara. I didn't care which. Finally, I signed a power of attorney so that my lawyer could proceed with the divorce without me being present. My final run was to the bank. I closed out all joint credit cards and removed half of the money in the checking and savings. On the way home to pack, I stopped at the cell phone company and cancelled my account. I'd get a new one when I arrived in London.

Saturday I packed up my clothes and a few other things and booked a room in the hotel nearest the airport. By Sunday morning, I was on a nonstop flight to Heathrow, not expecting to ever look back.

And with that, my life changed completely. It would never look the same again.

* * * * * * * *

Ch. 02

I have no idea what Sara did after my departure. She had no way to contact me. I left no forwarding address other than my lawyer's office. She had no telephone number. The receptionist at work was told to simply inform her that I no longer worked for Parker Price. She and her lover could live happily ever after without bothering me. I was out of the game--and had little intention in playing the field. My full attention was going to be given to my career.

Ewan had reserved me a room at the Heathrow Crown Plaza until I could decide on a more permanent location. By the time I got to London, it was late by the local time and I was exhausted. I collapsed into bed and slept soundly for the first time in weeks. The time difference caught up to me the following morning when I was roused from my sleep by a knock at the door. The clock by the bedside said 10 am, but my internal clock objected to being awakened at 4 am.

I quickly pulled on my sweats and peaked through a crack in the door. A pretty little redhead stood smiling at me, holding in her hands two coffees.

"Just a minute," I mumbled while I unfastened the safety lock.

"Sorry if I popped by too early, but at least I did bring coffee. My name is Fiona Kelly." Her voice had a sweet lilt to of an accent. "Ewan MacAdams asked me to help you sort out a lease on a flat. If I am too early, I can wait in the lobby."

In my imagination, Fiona Kelly was the perfect image of a leprechaun. Her voice betrayed her Gaelic heritage. She stood almost a head shorter than I--no more than five foot three or four inches tall at the most. She seemed all the shorter because she wore flat shoes rather than heels. Her makeup was sparse and her hair was cut in a short, easy to care for style.

Rather than being curvy, Fiona had the solid, uniformly slim, and toned body of an athlete. I guessed that if I should find myself interested in an athletic club or a jogging course, Fiona would be well suited to provide the information.

I wouldn't call Fiona a beauty; neither was she a "plain Jane". She was more than pleasant to look at. Had she worked harder, I had no doubt that she would be quite pretty, but Fiona didn't seem to care about the surface details. Nothing about her looked poor or slovenly. It had been carefully chosen from the nicer shops, but with a particular look in mind. She was clearly comfortable with who she was.

"I need to shower and shave," I said, swallowing a yawn. If you don't mind, you're welcome to wait out here."

"No problem,"

"Good! I'll be ready in a few minutes. You sit here and enjoy your coffee."

"Oh no, these are both for you. I fancy tea myself, but I'm told that without coffee, you yanks aren't fit for the light of day."

"Something like that," I responded, chuckling at her coy wit.

I spent the entire day with Fiona. She had four flats for me evaluate. I was frankly shocked at the price I would need to pay for a simple two-bedroom apartment. The first stop was clearly out of my ballpark. It was beautiful and partially furnished. Still, the cost was prohibitive. Besides, it seemed a bit too posh for my tastes. As a single man, I only needed a simple space--one bedroom and another that I could use for an office. I politely suggested that Fiona take me to her second choice.

This one was more my style--not too ornate and somewhat smaller. The cost was only slightly more affordable than the first one. It was too far from the ITI-Financial Services Building, though. I told Fiona that I wanted to see option three.

There was a lot to like about this flat. It was very compact. I frankly could not see how one of the bedrooms could have been used for anything other than an office. The kitchen was new and well lit. I could see myself in this place. It was also fairly close to the ITI building. Still, the cost put me off.

I told Fiona that we should stop and get something to eat. I wasn't sure if my body was calling for breakfast, lunch or a mid-day snack, but I was ready for something.

Fiona took me to a neighborhood pub near the flat we had just visited. The food was excellent and I found that I could get a pretty decent cold Fosters. So a life of warm beer was not in my future after all.

The meal with Fiona was a true joy. She had a brisk, sharp sense of humor that kept me wanting to get to know her more, but it was the impish twinkle in her eye and effervescent smile that drew me in. I was in her presence no more than five minutes before I felt perfectly at ease. The quiet banter over lunch made it feel as though Fiona and I had known each other all our lives, not half a day. We talked about everything from American politics to music, to the latest cinema releases. Everything about the conversation clicked perfectly. We even managed to have a calm, non-threatening chat about Sara and my pending divorce.

When our meal break began stretching toward an hour and a half without my even being aware of it, I knew that I had at least one friend in the UK. It felt good. For the first time in weeks, I had not thought about the horror that my life had become and I was beginning to move forward.