Page 87 of Marriage (Red, White &) Blues

“You must’ve raced home,” I said.

“Did you need me?”

“More than you know.”

He smiled as if his smile, or maybe my words, said everything.

“Why do people care?”

“Honey, people love scandals and I’m not just the brother of the man running for president, but I’m a Parker. You know what the company is worth. You know whatI’mworth. People love seeing the rich fall, even if it’s not the one theyshouldwant to fall.”

“Your parents should be calling soon.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Here’s the thing, whatever they come up with, as long as it’s not, ‘you need to divorce hernow,’ then maybe we should consider going along with it for the time being. Lay low. Give some other celebrity the chance to royally fuck up.”

“Fuck up? Since when does my good girl use the word ‘fuck’?

I shrugged. “Seemed like a fuck kind of day.”

And I was right. So damn right. Robert calledfuming. Like, you’d have thought we were on the verge of a global nuclear war.

The second he hung up on his father—God, I was so proud of him for that—he helped me out to the chair lift then ran back in the room to grab the comforter off the bed, then joined me on the stairs. At the bottom Blake carried me over to the big, new comfy sofa, and I sink down into it.

“Now dinner,” Blake commands.

Crock-Pot mac and cheese courtesy of Dee. And she’d thrown together a salad. I knew this because Blake walked out holding two big plates of mac and cheese and salad, and a bottle of hard cider and Modelo tucked under each arm. He placed the plate on my lap and I reached up snagging the cider. It smelled divine. I mean, Dee cooked it, so obviously.

I held the comforter up, waiting for him to situate himself, then tucked him in so we could get on with watching mindless television.

Sexy times with Blake meant so much to me, butthesewere my favorite times. Vegging out with the hubs, not doing anything in particular.

We were three episodes into the newest season ofName That Tunewhen his phone rang again. An unknown number. He drew his brows down, looking ten kinds of irritated at the interruption of his evil phone ringing.

I looked from the phone to him. “You’re not sleeping with the guy at the beach, too, are you?”

“No. But I have something to tell you,” he said and it sounded serious, so I turned my full attention to him.

“Okay,” I replied, dropping my fork onto my plate.

“That woman,Gloria Parker, I’ve been sleeping with her for a while now.”

The laugh popped so hard from my mouth that a sharp pain sliced through my collarbone, causing me to laughandcry.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Sorry, sweetheart. I just thought it was best to rip the news off like an old bandage.” And that just made me laugh harder forcing me to press my hand to my collarbone with tears leaking from my eyes.

The phone stopped ringing, but lit up with a voicemail notification.

They left a voicemail?

He opened it and pressed play.

“Hi, Mr. Parker. My name is Murielle Colgate, and I work for Bernhardt Management Services,”she said in an endearing country twang.“I need to speak with you and your wife. If you would call me back, it’s very important.” Then she rattled off the phone number where she could be reached and hung up.

“What is Bernhardt Management?” I asked.

“They manage high-profile people.”

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