that was out of the question. This woman is about to ruin your life, he reminded himself.
“I’ve made mistakes, many horrible mistakes. But now there’s a person, a young woman. She’s lost her brother. Maybe she’ll want nothing to do with me or you but I have to take that chance.”
Think, Tripp. But his mind couldn’t focus. He needed time, time to make a plan, time to protect himself and his assets. Having a nearly full-grown child emerge as the product of his affair, his only marital aberration in twenty years, was out of the question. Sherrill wouldn’t understand. He might as well have his bags packed before he ever uttered a word. The scandal, even more than the betrayal, would close off any possibility of reconciliation.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his wife. It was definitely she, not a figment of his imagination, and her stride was quickening. A few more seconds and he’d be faced with his ultimate nightmare: introducing his paramour to his wife. Morgan gave him a quizzical look, but he had neither the skill nor the inclination to interpret her expression. All he wanted was for her to quietly disappear.
“My, my, the famous Dr. Reese,” Sherrill cooed as she joined them. “I had no idea my husband’s company would appeal to such an esteemed psychiatrist.”
Tripp knew this act: The stalking tigress who makes her prey feel comfortable just before she’s ready to go in for the kill. He could recognize her fake smile anywhere, her squinted eyes, curled lips, and big teeth protruding from pink gums. He held his breath.
“Please call me Morgan,” she said, graciously extending her hand. “It’s been my pleasure.”
Was she going to betray him right here and now?
“Morgan’s been kind enough to update me on the comings and goings of a mutual friend,” he offered before she could say anything further. Did he sound adequately dismissive, uninterested? “Hard to believe we know someone in common. The only doctors I know are my own, and I do everything possible to avoid them.” He forced a laugh. Tripp as the witty master of small talk; it was a role he knew well.
“Six degrees of separation, isn’t that how the expression goes?” Sherrill asked rhetorically as she linked her arm through Tripp’s, establishing her territory.
“And so much can happen to all of us,” Morgan added, clasping her hands.
He watched Sherrill’s eyes dart to Morgan’s bare fingers, immediately registering the lack of either an engagement ring or a wedding band. She could home in on marital status within seconds. Thinking back, he’d been lucky it wasn’t a skill Morgan shared.
The three of them stood without saying a word.
After what seemed an eternity, Sherrill finally broke the silence. “I certainly didn’t mean to interrupt whatever catching up you were doing on your
friend
.” She lingered over the last word, as if suspicious of such a person’s existence.
Tripp felt sick. This triangle had to end. He put his arm around his wife’s waist, feeling the thickness of her middle, the roll underneath her body-contouring control-top pantyhose. “Have you looked around?” he offered meekly. “It’s a wonderful show this year. The best I can remember.”
Morgan took the hint. With a slight bow in Tripp’s direction, she excused herself. “We’ll have a chance to talk again soon.”
Not if I can possibly help it, Tripp thought as he watched her walk away into the crowd. He removed his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. He felt as if he’d awoken from a nightmare and now faced the task of coming to terms with whatever demons had emerged from his subconscious. Revealing his identity, making his daughter aware of his existence, was out of the question. But his brief encounter with Morgan had been enough to convince him that her mind was set. No amount of arguing or even begging would persuade her otherwise. Could anything? How could he keep his past at bay and protect his cherished
“I’ve made mistakes, many horrible mistakes. But now there’s a person, a young woman. She’s lost her brother. Maybe she’ll want nothing to do with me or you but I have to take that chance.”
Think, Tripp. But his mind couldn’t focus. He needed time, time to make a plan, time to protect himself and his assets. Having a nearly full-grown child emerge as the product of his affair, his only marital aberration in twenty years, was out of the question. Sherrill wouldn’t understand. He might as well have his bags packed before he ever uttered a word. The scandal, even more than the betrayal, would close off any possibility of reconciliation.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his wife. It was definitely she, not a figment of his imagination, and her stride was quickening. A few more seconds and he’d be faced with his ultimate nightmare: introducing his paramour to his wife. Morgan gave him a quizzical look, but he had neither the skill nor the inclination to interpret her expression. All he wanted was for her to quietly disappear.
“My, my, the famous Dr. Reese,” Sherrill cooed as she joined them. “I had no idea my husband’s company would appeal to such an esteemed psychiatrist.”
Tripp knew this act: The stalking tigress who makes her prey feel comfortable just before she’s ready to go in for the kill. He could recognize her fake smile anywhere, her squinted eyes, curled lips, and big teeth protruding from pink gums. He held his breath.
“Please call me Morgan,” she said, graciously extending her hand. “It’s been my pleasure.”
Was she going to betray him right here and now?
“Morgan’s been kind enough to update me on the comings and goings of a mutual friend,” he offered before she could say anything further. Did he sound adequately dismissive, uninterested? “Hard to believe we know someone in common. The only doctors I know are my own, and I do everything possible to avoid them.” He forced a laugh. Tripp as the witty master of small talk; it was a role he knew well.
“Six degrees of separation, isn’t that how the expression goes?” Sherrill asked rhetorically as she linked her arm through Tripp’s, establishing her territory.
“And so much can happen to all of us,” Morgan added, clasping her hands.
He watched Sherrill’s eyes dart to Morgan’s bare fingers, immediately registering the lack of either an engagement ring or a wedding band. She could home in on marital status within seconds. Thinking back, he’d been lucky it wasn’t a skill Morgan shared.
The three of them stood without saying a word.
After what seemed an eternity, Sherrill finally broke the silence. “I certainly didn’t mean to interrupt whatever catching up you were doing on your
friend
.” She lingered over the last word, as if suspicious of such a person’s existence.
Tripp felt sick. This triangle had to end. He put his arm around his wife’s waist, feeling the thickness of her middle, the roll underneath her body-contouring control-top pantyhose. “Have you looked around?” he offered meekly. “It’s a wonderful show this year. The best I can remember.”
Morgan took the hint. With a slight bow in Tripp’s direction, she excused herself. “We’ll have a chance to talk again soon.”
Not if I can possibly help it, Tripp thought as he watched her walk away into the crowd. He removed his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. He felt as if he’d awoken from a nightmare and now faced the task of coming to terms with whatever demons had emerged from his subconscious. Revealing his identity, making his daughter aware of his existence, was out of the question. But his brief encounter with Morgan had been enough to convince him that her mind was set. No amount of arguing or even begging would persuade her otherwise. Could anything? How could he keep his past at bay and protect his cherished
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