— COMING IN 2019 —
Most know him for the powerhouse he calls a business. But I call him my husband. At one time people would have said we’re in love, but now, we’re just stuck. To some marriage is a way of life. To us it’s just a word. It means nothing when your lives resemble something of roommates with shared children. Seventeen years and three kids later, we barely occupy the same room, let alone a bed together. He has his life and I have mine. I don’t know where it all went wrong. Maybe the chase of success.
But sometimes power can be a double-edged sword.
In my career I’m confident, I’m driven, and I’ve mastered my business down to an art, but then I come home and I’m lost. I’m torn between who I was, who I am, and who I’m supposed to be. I’m alone in a houseful of people. I’m numb. And I haven’t felt the touch of a man in far too long. There are things I need that my husband won’t give me.
Then a client proposed an offer to fix it all.
But do I take it? He promised me seclusion, privacy, and confidentiality—all things that are not optional for me. Everyone abides by the rules or there are consequences. I sit at a crossroads. Continue living the same repetitious life day in and day out or choose spontaneity. Take a risk. Be miserable. Or find happiness. In the end, I’m just a woman looking for the same thing as everyone else—love, intimacy, desire.
Funny thing about marriage—the pain in one is often the pain in the other. The part that is hard to believe—my husband has just as many secrets as me . . .