Page 5 of The Perfect Marriage

Sorry, I really wanted to be with you today. I miss you.

I drop the phone back on the desk. Grabbing the fork from on top of the Styrofoam container, I stab it into the Chinese food that has been sitting out for a few hours. I take a couple of quick bites, then slide the whole thing in the garbage can. My hair is pulled into a bun at the nape of my neck, every strand perfectly in place, even though I’ve been working for the past thirteen hours. I adjust my high-end black blouse and brush off my tailored skirt. I straighten my desk, which is in complete disarray and not typically how I live my life. With court dates and depositions looming over me, a little mess is going to have to do. I look out the windows of my office, admiring the lights of the city, the cars moving in unison, the people out and about enjoying their last few hours of the weekend.

“Anne, are you still here?” I call out.

The door of my office opens, and my sweet-looking assistant pops her head in. She’s a petite woman with shoulder-length brown hair, and although she doesn’t turn heads, she’s pretty in a modest way. Her eyes while faint light up and she smiles at me, ready and eager to please. While I am the only other person in the office right now, it is not uncommon for Anne to scramble into work once she starts to see me sending work emails.

“Yes, Mrs. Morgan.”

I drop my hands on my desk and give her a sympathetic smile. “Anne, how many times do I have to tell you? Just because I work ridiculously long hours doesn’t mean you need to, and what’s with the Mrs. Morgan?”

“Sorry, Mrs.—” She begins and stops as I put my hand up and stand. I approach Anne. The office has plush carpeting, which I picked out myself as it feels incredibly soft beneath my bare feet. I made sure to decorate so it had a homey feel, with a plush couch and recliner, a coffee table, pillows, a bookcase stuffed with books for both work and pleasure, and beautiful artwork on the walls. This office is my home away from home, as I’ve spent more time here the past eight years than I have at my actual home. I even got a treadmill for it, which sits in the corner facing the Washington Monument.

I reach Anne and put a hand on her shoulder. “Anne, you have worked for me for five years. We eat lunch together every Friday. We occasionally grab drinks after work. You travel with me for business. You’ve been to my house on countless occasions. You’re my friend first and my employee second. Please for the love of God, never call me Mrs. Morgan again.”

Anne shakes her head and smiles. She slides past me and slumps into the couch taking a load off. “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’ve been pulling double duty for Bob since his last assistant quit. He demands that I call him Mr. Miller. It’s just become a force of habit.” She rubs her brow.

I take a seat next to Anne. I put my bare feet up on the coffee table, let out a sigh, and pull my hair loose from its tight bun. Anne kicks her heels off and puts her feet up on the table too. We share a look of solidarity and understanding. Although she and I are different in nearly every way, we are one and the same. Two women trying to make it in a man’s world. We work twice as hard as our male counterparts to make it just an inch ahead of them.

“That’s because Mr. Miller is an asshole. I’ll make sure he has a new assistant by the end of the week, and if the next one doesn’t work out, I’ll make sure he doesn’t work out here either,” I say with a laugh, although I’m completely serious. Bob is a decent attorney, but he has a huge ego and no respect for anyone else, except those that have more money or more power than him.

“Thanks, Sarah. You’re too good to me.”

“No—you’re too good to me.”

“You know who’s not too good for anyone?” Anne asks.

“Who?”

“Bob.”

We both laugh, and it feels good. I’ve had my head buried in case files forever. I miss this. I miss just hanging out without the weight of the world on my shoulders or someone’s life and future in my hands.

“Oh, I wanted to show you these.” Anne pulls out her phone. She opens her photo app and flicks her finger across the screen a few times.

I take the phone from her and look at each photo—a man crossing the street, a woman walking up the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, a falcon swooping low over a lake, a child looking up at the Washington Monument. “These are beautiful, Anne. You have such a good eye,” I say admiring each picture.

“Thank you, just a little hobby of mine.”

“It should be more than a hobby. You’re very talented.”

She blushes, and her lips press firmly together as I hand her back her phone.

My phone vibrates. I stand up and walk to my desk, quickly texting Adam back. I miss him. I miss us. We exchange a few more texts, and when I learn he’ll be coming back late, it’s decided. “Let’s go out for some drinks,” I say.

“Are you sure? You have to deliver the closing statement tomorrow morning.” I can see the hope in her eyes from a friend’s standpoint who wants the best for me and the uneasiness from an employee’s stance who also wants the best for me.

“Yes, I’m entirely sure.” I grin.

Anne claps her hands together. “I’ll call us an Uber.” She gets up, slides her heels back on, and walks towards my office door with a little bounce in her step.

4

Adam Morgan

The slam of a car door wakes me from my slumber. It’s pitch black inside and outside, and I don’t have the slightest clue how my night ended with Kelly, but I assume it was with more rough sex since my cock feels like it’s been dragged along a slab of pavement. I glance at the clock on the nightstand and in large red illuminating digits it reads 12:15am.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

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