Housewife Gone Wild

“No. I’ll just wander.” I grabbed my tote and walked out before he could marshal another argument. Behind me, he hesitated, still rattled by the lipstick stains, probably still replaying whatever heat he and Tracy stirred up last night.

The elevator doors closed, and my phone pinged. A text–of course–from Ms. Darwin herself.

Tracy: [Mr. Holcomb didn’t throw up last night, did he? Sorry, I couldn’t stop him. Two new deals in the bag, he was over the moon. I’ll make sure he drinks less next time.]

My stomach rolled at her play. Silence would only let her think she’d hurt me, so I tapped back.

[So thoughtful, Tracy. Next time, stamp the lipstick on his chest. That way, even without a heads–up, I’ll know exactly how much fun you two had.]

Message sent. No reply. Was she rattled… or just busy savoring her triumph? Hard to say, and I honestly didn’t care.

I spent the late morning drifting through the luxury boutiques, snagging a silk scarf for Mom, a leather wallet for Dad, and a DSLR camera my kid brother had been begging for.

sun–splashed café that overlooked the indoor concourse. The sleepy, after–lunch sunlight felt like a weighted blanket across

into me in the hotel corridor last night, drunk

baggy jeans, tall and fresh–faced enough to make a college

world, huh?” he said as he slid into the

Two run–ins in forty–eight hours. Even Romeo and Juliet had

his chin on his hand,

doing

if I get you something?

but I was just

borrowed a pen and a slip of paper, and dropped them in front of me.