TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT- POCKET - LAST POSTING OF "TWO OF HEARTS"

Welcome! This will be my last post from "Two of Hearts." It's a shocker. I apologize. But it's not a romance, it's women's fiction. I hope you enjoy it. Next week, I'll be posting from my second-chance romance in progress. As always, scroll down to get back to Tuesday Tales and the wonderful stories there. Thanks for coming. 

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Terry’s heartbeat quickened as he packed up his work for the day. He put a blank check on Jen’s account in an envelope and slid it into his breast pocket. He also had a summary of the changes he had made to her portfolio. He put it in a manila envelope, straightened his tie, popped a breath mint and headed for the elevator.

“Taking home work?” Paul asked.

“You know me. Nose to the grindstone,” Terry said with a smile.

Walking from the subway, his step lightened. His libido spiked as he opened the door and harnessed Queenie. He tucked a can of her food into a bag with two bottles of fine wine, and the envelope and made tracks to the street.

“Yeah, another date with Willie tonight, girl. How about that?” He chuckled. He was double-dating with his dog. The idea tickled him so much, he whipped out his phone to text Clare, but stopped. Uh, no, not telling Clare. His good mood crashed. A married man going on a date. What the hell was he doing?

He took the pug around the block. His steps slowed as his mind raced. Jen was a client. Could he continue to fool himself? He was having an affair, something he’d sworn, in the wedding ceremony and to himself, in private, that he would never do. But so was Clare. He didn’t know for sure that she was continuing with whoever she’d spent that night with, but why ask for six weeks’ hiatus if she wasn’t? He’d not admitted that to himself before, because the idea would make him wild. However, the circumstances had changed.

Did one affair justify another? He’d never thought so before. Don’t fight fire with fire. But wasn’t that exactly what he was doing? He shook his head. His time with Jen, he refused to label it “an affair”, had nothing to do with Clare’s behavior. He needed Jen. Her company gave him solace, got him through the dark days and darker nights without filing for divorce or, at the very least, flying to Los Angeles for a showdown with Clare. Time with Jen kept him sane –for what it was worth. And he needed to be level-headed, if he didn’t want his life to explode and disappear into the mist.

Terry had weighed the options. Every time he’d considered divorce, his stomach had protested, clenching in the most painful way. He’d never get over Clare. She had been the perfect wife, half friend and half lover. He’d trusted her but look what happened. He refused to believe Clare had gone out to California seeking sexual adventure. He’d been convinced that her interest in learning to write for movies was genuine. Back to that old truth –Clare had never been a good liar.

Something had happened. He’d be damned if he’d give up on them until he found out the whole story. Obviously, there were things he didn’t know. He prayed the meeting in Chicago would clear up the mystery –and he’d know what to do. He sighed. He couldn’t stop Clare from leaving him, but he’d never leave her, never, unless she threatened him with a gun or a knife.

Queenie tugged Terry toward Jen’s house. Reluctant to be tempted again, Terry walked slowly. But what good would turning around do? If he spent time alone in his apartment, resentment toward Clare would grow. When he’d been on his own for long periods of time, his anger festered, feeding on itself. He’d obsess about her and his psychic wounds, the damage to his heart from her infidelity. Playing the self-righteous, wronged victim would never suit him.  After a moment’s pause, he continued to Jen’s place. The lesser of two evils, having affection that made him feel almost close to whole again –warmth and a substitute for love definitely trumped wallowing at his own private pity party.

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