Page 69 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

“Wish it was you running,” the chauffeur said and as Blake opened his mouth to answer, I pointed my finger at his chest.

“What’s your name?” I asked him.

“Jeremy.”

“Well, Jeremy, it’s nice to meet you butno,” I said.

“No?” he asked.

“We don’t even joke about that,” I replied.

“I love my wife,” Blake answered the man. “To keep her happy—no campaigns in my future.”

He nodded, in commiseration saying, “I get that.”

“You have a spouse?” I asked.

“No.” He shook his head, smiling.

The man’s eyes twinkled with mischief and I had the feeling he was playing with us. “We have to go. I flicked a pointed finger his way that looked kind of like a gun. “Have fun not having a spouse.”

“I’ll be here when you’re ready to go,” he replied, then finished, “and I plan to.”

When we walked far enough away, I bent in to whisper to Blake, “There’s a rumor going around that you have a huge cock and love to get creative.”

He stopped walking to stare at me, popping his laugh. “There’s a rumor?”

“I started it, and I’m the only one I’ve told, but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“Well then, if we’re being honest, me, myself and I love to talk about that sweet pu?—”

I threw my hand over his mouth when an older woman passed way too close and he cracked up. His hot breath hit my hand causing my vagina to spasm in anticipation of our near-future bedroom frolic.

Last night he ordered me to the hot tub. Then he took me on the dining room table. Over the back of the sofa… I sighed remembering wistfully.

My husband laughed, leaning in. “You want the back of the sofa, your wish is my command.”

Oh, my god. How did he know? I reached up to touch my heated face, just knowing that my X-rated thoughts were written all over it.

“Don’t worry, you’re good.”

A doorman opened the door for us. Blake dropped his hand to the small of my back to move us in the direction of the back lawn. French doors that filled the innermost rooms with warm, yellowy light from the copious amounts of windows opened up to a large, cement patio with three steps that ran the length of the of the patio.

“And so it begins,” I muttered right before plastering an uber-fake smile on my face and taking my first step down onto the lawn. We entered a sea of chiffon dresses in varying shades of pastels and very expensive navy-blue suits. Some women wore hats. The others, like me, wore their hair in elegant updos.

Most of the attendees treated me as if I were avaluedmember of the Parker family. Apparently, our acting skills could’ve gotten our family nominated for a daytime Emmy award. Nevertheless, I smiled pleasantly and laughed when appropriate, allowing Blake to inform each new face that work beckoned and so we were stepping away from the campaign.

Bliss. Sheer bliss.

Then, we were invited to sit down to enjoy my favorite part of the afternoon, the food. The club employed some top-notch chefs. Even a James Beard Award winner and two nominees.

I’d just taken my first bite of lobster covered in hollandaise when his mother approached our table. “Blake,dear,” his mother said and her eyes glowed with something I could onlydescribe as brightly muted mischief. And what was with this ‘dear’ nonsense? Sheneverused endearments for her children. “I need to introduce you to someone.”

She wrapped both her arms around his left, tugging him up from his chair.

“Glory—” he started.

“No. She doesn’t need to come. It will only take a second.” Then the woman started pulling my husband across the lawn. I watched as they drew closer to a woman in a fitted, sleeveless, scoop-neck dress that stopped just above her knees. She wore her blonde hair pulled back in a tight bun. She looked stunning. Why was my mother-in-law leading my husband over to this stunning woman? My eyes stayed glued to them, although they stood too far away for me to hear what they talked about. Though my husband threw his head back laughingthree times.

---