The Perfect Marriage: a completely gripping psychological suspense Page 3
“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.
I should have been home with Sarah by now. I rub my hands over my forehead and down my face, trying to massage the nerves back to life. How the hell did I get this bad? I can’t see more than a few inches in front of my face, but I can feel Kelly next to me. I can always feel her next to me. I scooch closer to her, running my hand along her cheek. She’s dead asleep. I whisper her name trying to stir her, but the scotch has a stronger pull on her than it did me.
“Kelly,” I whisper a little louder, but she doesn’t move. The continuous vibration and ding of her phone distract me from her, but I’ve decided that if she’s this tired, then I want her to sleep. I give her a gentle kiss on her cheek and swivel myself off my side of the bed without a sound. I tiptoe to her side of the bed and take her phone off the nightstand. I step out of the room meaning only to silence it, so it doesn’t disturb her—but the text messages catch my eye. I look back into the dark room and then at the phone. I type 4357 into the passcode. The most recent text is from a girl named Jesse.
It reads ‘I’m sorry.’
I scroll past Jesse’s most recent text to those before it. They’re all from Scott, her husband. I read them in order, starting from the earliest at 10:17pm.
I wish you would come home to me.
Why does it have to be like this?
Babe… will you please answer me?
I love you so fucking much. Why can’t you get that?
I didn’t mean any of it. You have to believe me. It won’t happen again. I promise.
Please tell me where you’re at.
If you would just answer. I would leave you alone tonight.
Fuck you, you fucking dumb ass bitch.
You fucking lied to me. You’re not still at work. I just called the cafe.
When I find you, you’ll be begging me for last night’s ordeal rather than what I have in store for you, you worthless bitch.
My muscles clench up in anger, but I keep scrolling anyway. This is her business, and she’s never wanted me to be involved, but I would kill this piece of shit at this moment if I had the chance.
Too late. You’re a fucking memory now.
That’s the final text message from Scott at 11:45pm. Jesus Christ. What a fucking psycho. I want to pick her up out of that bed and hold her close and reassure that we’re not all pieces of shit like her husband. I’m half tempted to text him back but riling him up is the last thing Kelly needs. Instead, I creep back in the bedroom, set an alarm on her phone for 8:00am, and place it on the nightstand. I lean down and plant a kiss on her cheek. I slide my hand up her thigh into her core. It’s wetter than it’s ever been, and I think at first, she’s going to wake up for me immediately. But she doesn’t stir, and when she doesn’t, I take my hand away. I want to be there for her in every type of way—physically, mentally, and emotionally. I wipe my wet hand against my pants and quietly walk out of the room.
Outside, I don’t turn on any lights and I allow my eyes to adjust as best they can in the dark. The coals from the fireplace help me find my way around the living room, and the bearskin rug lets me know when I’m outside the open-concept living room. The embers provide a soft glow as I creep my feet along the hardwood floor. I cross the kitchen keeping my balance with the granite countertops. The dull light of a pale moon provides a dismal backdrop to the front glass façade of the house. I find a pad of paper and a pen and write:
Kelly,
It’s you. It hasn’t always been you, but it will always be you. You’re the words to a story I’ve been trying to write my whole life, and tonight I determined the ending.
Love you, Love me, Adam
P.S. The maid will be here at 9am. Please make sure you’re gone before then.
I leave the note on the counter and walk to the entrance, picking up my items, and gently shutting the door behind me. I look down at my phone before getting into my black Range Rover. It’s 12:30am. Shit, I’m half tempted to stay with Kelly, but I promised Sarah I would come home tonight, and although I won’t get in until nearly 2am, at least, I’ll wake up next to her.
More than an hour later, I pull up to our home nestled in the Kaloroma neighborhood of D.C. The large brick Tudor house with six bedrooms and three-and-a-half baths is much too large for just Sarah and me, and a bit too ostentatious for my blood. But Sarah fell in love with it the moment she laid her eyes on it. It was the expansive fenced backyard and stunning oversized terrace that made her swoon. I thought for sure when she picked out such a large house it was because she had changed her mind about starting a family. We turned two of the bedrooms into offices, one for her and one for me. A third bedroom was converted into a library-study, a fourth into a gym and the fifth into a guest room. She hadn’t changed her mind.
I pull into the courtyard next to Sarah’s matching white Range Rover. Entering the house, I pass through the grand foyer with marble flooring, past the sweeping staircase and into the gourmet kitchen. I place my messenger bag on the counter and switch on a light. I get a bottle of water from the fridge and go to the master suite on the second floor. All the lights are off in our bedroom, except for a lamp on Sarah’s side of the bed.
I push open the door and find her sleeping heavily on her stomach, completely relaxed. She’s wearing a thin black tank top and black lace thong panties, not her typical nighttime attire. I expected to see her in a nightgown. Is she teasing me? Does she want me? Or did she just pass out from one too many vodka sodas, her drink of choice. Her silk-like blond hair is damp and is pulled back into a low ponytail—every strand neatly in place. Even when she’s asleep, she’s perfectly pulled together. My eyes follow the curve of her back and the smoothness of her toned ass, down her sculpted legs. Over the years, she may have neglected me, but she never ignored that body of hers. She stirs a little but doesn’t wake.
By my side of the bed I shuffle off my pants and shirt. My eyes never leave her. She makes me so goddamn miserable, but so blissful at the same time. I fucking hate her as much as I love her. Does she know? Does she care? What am I to her?
I drop my watch on the nightstand a little too hard, and it makes a clunking sound, loud enough to wake her. Her eyes shoot open quickly and then ease when she realizes that it’s just me. I expect her to roll over and go back to sleep, but she doesn’t. Her eyes tighten, and her lips curve into a small smile. She glances at the alarm clock on my nightstand. 1:45am. She looks back at me but says nothing of my late arrival home. Her eyes beckon me.
“I know. I’m sorry I’m late.” I slide into bed beside her.
“Don’t be,” she whispers patting the spot next to her.
I scoot closer, planting a kiss on her cheek. She makes a cooing
sound.
“I’ve missed you,” I say.
She looks up at me as I pull her close, holding her tightly. “I’ve missed you too.”
I kiss her forehead. She pushes closer into me, entangling her legs in mine and resting her head on my bare chest. She runs her fingers up and down my abs.
“How was work?”
“Long,” she says.
The silence stretches, and I wonder what it is that she’s thinking. Is she mulling over case files in her head? Is she thinking about me? About us? Can she see the cracks in our marriage? Does she want to fix them or keep pretending like they don’t exist? Like I don’t exist. Like we don’t exist.
“Let’s have a baby.” Her eyes brighten, and she looks up at me, waiting for my reaction. I can’t help it. My face lights up, and I grin back at her.
“Are you serious? Are you sure you’re really ready? After everything that… well… happened. I thought you’d never want to have kids.” I examine her face for any indication that would betray the words coming out of her mouth. I had always hoped she’d want to have children, but I had accepted that that day might never come, given what happened to her…
“Yes.” She nods, and I think she means it. I let out a laugh mixed with a cry, and I kiss her. I can’t contain my excitement. My hands are all over her and her hands all over me. My lips move down her neck. I pull her black tank top off and kiss every square inch of her breasts and torso. I look up at her, and she smiles as I remove her panties. I kiss and lick and suck until she comes, and then I find my way inside her. She pants and moans beneath me. Her eyes locked on mine, big and full of hope.
“I love you, Sarah.”
“I love you too, Adam.”
And then I explode inside her. I’m going to be a father, I think. A single tear rolls from my eye as I collapse on top of her, breathless and hopeful. I can’t do this to her. I have to end it with Kelly. Sarah is my wife, my family, my whole heart. She’s done nothing but love me—even when it’s at a distance, she has loved me. I roll off but stay lying next to her. I rub her stomach gently. Sarah is the mother of my unborn child. She deserves more, and I’m going to give that to her.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
She kisses my forehead and wraps her arms around me hugging me tightly. “I want this for us. I want what you want.” She closes her eyes and slowly falls back asleep, cradled in my arms.
5
Sarah Morgan
Adam sleeps deeply next to me. I smile and run my hand along his face, wondering if I’m doing the right thing. But that’s the thing about right and wrong—it’s subjective. He deserves this, I remind myself as I run my hand over my belly, hoping our efforts took.
I had the epiphany a week ago, and last night when I was having drinks with Anne, it was solidified. I want more out of this life than a title and my name on a building. I want love. I want a family. I want meaning. I slide out of bed covering myself with a white silk robe and tying it loosely at the waist. I glance at my phone finding an unread text from Anne.
Did you make it home okay?
I quickly text back:
Yes. See you soon.
Anne texts:
Sorry for last night.
I recall the moment where it got a bit weird between Anne and me, and I quickly brush it aside.
It’s okay. We all do dumb stuff when we’re drunk.
A couple of hours later, Anne is greeting me with a cup of coffee and a smile at the office. She’s perky… a bit too perky considering how intoxicated she got last night.
“Happy Monday!” She grins.
“Yes, Monday indeed. Is Bob in his office?”
“Unfortunately,” she sneers.
“I’ll take care of our little Bob situation.” I pick up my coffee.
She gives me a nod and takes my bag from me, while I charge toward Bob’s office. Bob is two offices down. His is nice but nowhere near as nice as mine. He started here around the same time I did, but unlike him, I made partner, and I know he has a chip on his shoulder about it. I assume that’s why he’s been trying to steal Anne from me. When we started, he didn’t even look at me as competition. Now, he does. I made sure of that. I let myself in without a knock, and I find Bob sitting at his desk eating an egg sandwich without a care in the world. He’s average looking with a somewhat sinister tinge to him thanks to his dark eyes and hair, tall height, and sharp jawline.
“Morning, Bob.” I take a seat in front of his desk.
He nods straightening himself and setting his sandwich down. “What do I owe the pleasure, Sarah?” There’s a twinkle in his mahogany eyes.
“Listen, Bob. You’re going to stop asking Anne to run your errands or make copies for you or grab you food at all times of the day. Anne is my assistant and just because you go through assistants like pairs of underwear doesn’t mean you get to sniff after mine. Got it, Bob?” I narrow my eyes and crumple my lips.
“Anne is paid for by the firm. She’s fair game.” He takes another wet bite out of his egg sandwich. He chews and smiles, pleased with himself.
“Actually, you’re wrong about that. Part of her salary is paid for by the firm, the other part is paid for by me.”
“Ha, that’s ridiculous. Why would you do that?” He laughs.
“Because I treat people like actual people.”
“What a load.” He shakes his head and continues to chew his oversized mouthful.
“Bob, I’ll tell you what. There’s a partners meeting coming up. If your little assistant stealing games don’t stop, I’ll recommend that you be let go. We don’t need any deadweight around here.” I stand, towering over him.
“You’re the one that’s dead weight.” He narrows his eyes.
“Good one, Bob. Look I’m not in the mood for your petty power-play bullshit so just don’t mess with me on this and do as you’re told for once. Understood?” I take a drink of my coffee.
Bob scoffs at me but doesn’t say a word. He tosses the remainder of his egg sandwich in the trash and pounds his fist on his desk. I see myself out of his office and return to my own. Anne is fielding phone calls at her desk. I give her a wink and a nod, and she smiles back. An enormous bouquet of red roses is sitting in a vase on the coffee table. I lean down taking a big whiff. I can’t help but smile. I look at the card attached to them. It reads:
Sarah, it’s always been you. Love, Adam
“Those are beautiful.” Anne stands in the doorway, admiring the flowers.
I set the card down and turn to her. “Thanks, they’re from Adam.”
“Well, I sure hope they’d be from your husband. Who else would get you flowers? What’s the occasion?”
“Oh, nothing. We’re just trying for a baby.” I give a coy smile.
“What! Oh my God!” Anne practically screams bouncing into the office and hugging me.
“A baby… don’t you mean a knick-knack?” a voice from outside my office says. I recognize it immediately. Matthew stands in the doorway, dressed in a J.Crew knit sweater and chino pants. He looks like a skinnier Brad Pitt, replete with dirty blond hair that is messy in a way that can only be achieved via a two-hundred-dollar haircut. He has dull blue eyes that draw you in slowly as opposed to striking you all at once, so you can savor the spell they create.
Matthew sashays across the room to me with all the poise of a runway model. He turns whatever room he is in into a stage. This is how he commands a room. This is why he is paid a king’s ransom as a lobbyist for a pharmaceutical company that changes from time to time based on who’s paying him the most. Matthew and I have been friends since our days in law school at Yale, but it’s been over a year since I last saw him.
“Oh my God!” Without missing a beat, we are wrapped up in each other’s arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Just got in yesterday,” he says backing up while still holding my hands in the air. “Let me see you.” I give him half a twirl. “Still killing it,” he compliments.
 
; I look to Anne who is standing a few feet from us, one hand holding her elbow as if she was completely out of place. “You remember my assistant?”
“Of course,” Matthew walks to Anne and holds out a hand. “It’s Anna, right?”
She nods and shakes his hand.
“No, Matthew. It’s Anne, not Anna,” I correct. Anne needs to learn to speak up for herself.
“I’m so sorry, Anne. It’s great to see you again.” He waltzes in and takes a seat in my chair. “Still got the biggest office in the building, I see.” He looks around admiring my hard work.
“Would you expect anything less?” I raise an eyebrow.
“No way. Not from Sarah Morgan. But you plan to throw it all away for a knick-knack. Shame.” He shakes his head in dismay.
“A knick-knack?” Anne asks taking a couple more steps toward Matthew. She gets as far as my desk before she stops.
“You don’t want to know. Don’t even get him started,” I say with a laugh.
Matthew crosses one leg over the other and leans forward. “I just have this theory that animals and babies are the knick-knacks of our lives. Nice to look at and fun to collect, but they serve no real purpose.”
“That’s awful,” Anne says with disgust.
“But is it?” he asks. “Why add burdens that slow you down? If anything, I am an altruist, looking out for Sarah’s best interest.”
“I told you, you didn’t want to know. I love everything about Matthew except that.” I take a seat on my desk next to Matthew. I pat his knee. “It’s his only flaw.” I laugh.