Page 70 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

Watching them made me lose my appetite. Not even lobster in hollandaise enticed me enough to eat. They stayed talking for a good twenty-five minutes. Now, he had every right to talk to and laugh with a woman. I didn’t own the man. Plus, you know, I trusted him. So, talk away—I mentally flipped my hand in the air—what did I care? Except I didn’t like how she placed her hand on his arm three different times by his elbow beforeleaving it there. She left her hand onmy husband’sarm above the elbow. I knew that move—everyone knew that move. That damn woman was flirting with my husband.

Never having been in this position before, I didn’t know what to do. I could hardly storm over to them and demand she remove her hand. That might—no, itwould—cause a scene. I couldn’t cause a scene at a campaign function. That didn’t mean I had to sit here and watch the unbelievable display. Smiling at the rest of my table-mates, I placed my linen napkin on the table and excused myself and I walked calmly over to their little party.Adair tried to shift to keep Blake from seeing me but he turned his head and held his hand out to me.

“This is my wife, Gloria,” he introduced me.

I didn’t even pretend with this little situation, not waiting for him to give me her name. “Blake, my head is throbbing. I’m heading out.”

“Well, feel better,” Adair said. “We’ll get Blake home safely.”

He stared at her. “Mother, I’m not staying.”

“Stay,” I told him. “You seem to be having a good time.”

Then I left him standing in their little circle, stopping one of the employees, I asked them to ring for the car.

Was I being ridiculous? Probably, yes. But that beautiful woman flirty-touched my husband and I had no recourse. If that didn’t cause a headache, I didn’t know what would.

“Leaving so soon?” Jeremy asked as he opened the door for me, straining his neck to search for Blake, I was sure.

“Bad headache.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He shut the door. But my husband opened it, skidding onto the seat before Jeremy drove me home.

“Stay? I’m having fun? What the hell, Glory?”

“You looked very comfortable. I didn’t want to take you way. Who am I to do that?”

“My wife. You’re my wife. What’s going on here? Why are we arguing?”

How did I navigate this? The laughing? Her flirty touches? It made me sound like a jealous loser.

His mother who hated me brought him over to talk with a beautiful, flirtatious woman and the Harvard educated man couldn’t figure this out. I sat for the entire ride home with my arms over my chest, staring out the window—notanswering.

Jeremy dropped us off in front of the door. I walked inside, undressed, took a shower, and changed into my comfies. Iordered Chinese takeout and damn me, I ordered enough for two.

When the doorbell rang, I walked past him to answer the door, tipped the driver a ridiculously good tip and carried the bag back to the coffee table. I plopped back down on the sofa that just yesterday he’d had me bent over.

Blake walked into the kitchen to grab us plates, spoons, chopsticks, a cider for me and a beer for him. He sat down next to me and set his haul down to start opening containers. “We going to talk about it?”

“I need a job,” I said in a slick avoidance technique. He jerked his head back, clearly not expecting my retort.

“Why do you need a job?” he asked.

“We’re done with the campaign. I need something to pass my time. Oh—and I’m done with brunches. All of them. With the country club. With your parents. You can go but I won’t be joining you.”

“Glory, what happened between this afternoon and now that I’m not getting?”

It was right on the tip of my tongue to say, “Why don’t you go ask Miss Flirty Pants?” but I held back—go restraint!Instead, I said, “How long do you think you were gone?”

He stared at me with confusion written all over his gorgeous face.

“How long, Blake?”

“I don’t know, maybe ten minutes.”

“Twenty-five!”

“You’re mad because I was gone too long?” For some reason, his tone really hurt.

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