Chapter 3

My ridiculously overpriced house. Forty-five hundred square feet of nineteenth century farmhouse, reimagined as a postmodern, foursquare mini mansion. I’d paid just under three million for it at the top of the market. Three hundred thousand over asking. My mortgage payment was almost fifteen thousand a month. Last time I’d checked, its value had dropped to two point four.

Wendy’s EQS SUV sat parked in the garage. I hadn’t been home in two days. I used to lie about where I’d been. Now I didn’t say anything at all. My philandering was an open secret. I knew she fooled around too, but I never begrudged her that. I’d come home to one of her male friends “stopping by” for coffee more than once.

We stayed together for Alexis. That, plus the momentum of twenty years of marriage. There was comfort in a relationship that old. Even if I was an unfaithful bastard, I was the bastard she knew.

The kitchen smelled of sautéed garlic and simmering tomato sauce. Pasta night. Alexis sat at the breakfast table. Her smile vanished the moment she saw me.

“Hi, sweetie.” I leaned over to kiss her, dismayed when she pulled away.

Wendy asked, “Are you staying for dinner? I can set another plate.”

I noticed two settings at the table. I’d just had dinner with Astrid. Italian, as it turned out. I went to Wendy as she stirred the gnocchi and put my arm around her waist, pressing my body against hers. I nuzzled and kissed her neck.

“I ate already. Smells wonderful, though.”

Wendy still turned me on like crazy. She was gorgeous. My ideal woman. A classically beautiful face and a voluptuous physique. Not skinny. Not fat. The perfect proportion of curves and softness. I would fuck her four times a day, if she’d let me. I hadn’t fucked her in months.

I don’t know why I cheated on her. She’d never turned me down for sex before I became unfaithful. We used to fuck daily, and it had always been wonderful. The look into each other’s eyes and whisper I love you as I cum inside you type of lovemaking. She’d done everything I’d wanted, and even a few things I hadn’t.

Not to mention, she was a perfect mom. Alexis worshipped Wendy and despised me, and I was grateful for that. The world didn’t need another Ryan Whittaker, but it could use a whole lot more of Wendy.

Pressed against her soft body, I felt a stirring in my slacks. I ground my growing bulge against her ass and lifted my hand to cup her large breast.

“I’d love dessert, though,” I said under my breath.

Wendy lifted the pot of boiling pasta. “Watch out! Hot pot, coming through!” She turned her body away from me to drain off the liquid into a colander.

Fuck.

I turned back to Alexis, but she sat with her face turned down to stare at her phone. “Mom said your choir is going to be in a competition tomorrow. How exciting is that?”

Alexis brought her head up, but looked past me to Wendy. “Mom, I’m going to go upstairs. Can you call me when dinner’s ready?”

“It’ll be ready in a second, hon.”

Alexis didn’t bother to hide her disappointment that she couldn’t escape me.

“Are you still singing alto?” I asked.

Alexis turned back to her phone. “Soprano.”

Christ. Soprano. Wendy dished out pasta for the two of them and set the pan back on the stove.

Alexis picked up her fork to start eating. “Bye, dad.”

The sound of the downstairs television carried up to the second floor as I sat in bed and thumbed through Mia’s business plan. A reality show of some kind, if the constant catty arguing and dramatic music was any indication.

I skimmed the thirty page document, printed on cheap copy paper from a low quality inkjet printer, and paused to carefully study the financials and opportunity sections. The idea itself was clever, but she’d never get it funded. She’d made too many naïve assumptions, and hand waved away most of the risks. Her revenue and expense projections marked her plan as a fairy tale.

The business would be set up as a non-profit, which made me roll my eyes. They would match qualified candidates, Mia’s poor people, with investors. They’d facilitate a contract where the investor covered the cost of tuition, which could range from thirty-five thousand to two hundred thousand dollars for a four year degree, after which the graduate would begin work and pay a portion of their wages, five percent over a certain minimum threshold, to the investor for the next thirty years.

Compliance was assumed, naturally, and there didn’t appear to be any consideration given for enforcement of the contract, nor any kind of risk analysis. I made notes in the margins of the pages, marking it up like a homework assignment. Red ink everywhere. Crossed out sections. Questions and comments.

Wendy came into the bedroom to prepare for bed. She always slept in a pair of cotton briefs, topless. I loved watching her undress.

“Are you going to make it to Alexis’ recital tomorrow?” she asked as she unhooked her bra, freeing those perfect breasts I adored so much.