Ego Maniac(28)

The living room window in our third-floor condo faced Broad Street, a quiet, tree-lined block on the outskirts of Atlanta. Most of the world had been out partying last night, so the street was particularly quiet this morning. Which was why I couldn’t miss the bright yellow, souped-up Dodge Charger with the number nine painted on the side coming around the corner. Even though the windows were closed, I could hear the roar of no muffler and the screech as the driver took the turn too fast.

What an asshole. That corner was a big blind spot. Alexa could have been crossing the street with the stroller, and that idiot wouldn’t have seen them until it was too late. I shook my head and watched the car from the window as it rolled to a stop a few buildings over. It sat idling loudly for a few minutes. Then I watched as the passenger-side door opened, and a killer pair of legs peeked out.

I was married, not dead. Looking was okay.

Then the woman exited the car, and I realized looking was definitely okay.

Because the woman getting out of a street racecar a few buildings away from where we lived was my wife.





Emerie



I arrived at the office before Drew. When he walked in at almost ten, I greeted him with sarcasm. “Wake up late? Perhaps I can recommend something that might help you sleep.”

I’d expected a comeback worthy of blushing. But I wasn’t even sure he’d heard me.

“Morning.” He disappeared into his office and immediately got on the phone and into what sounded like a heated argument. After I heard him hang up, I gave him a few minutes to settle and then took the morning’s messages to his office.

Drew was standing behind his desk looking out the window and sipping a tall coffee. He looked a million miles away. I was just about to ask if everything was okay when he turned, and I got my answer. He hadn’t shaved, his normally crisp shirt looked like he’d slept in it, and he had dark circles under his usually bright eyes.

“You look terrible.”

He forced a half smile. “Thanks.”

“Is everything okay?”

He rubbed the back of his neck for a minute and then nodded. “Just some personal shit. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

“Talking is the last thing I need. Spent two hours on the phone last night. I’m done talking.”

“Alright. Well…what else can I do? What do you need?”

Even though he looked like he’d been through hell, a glimpse of Drew shone through. He arched a brow in response.

“Somehow I doubt you need me for that.”

He grinned. “Definitely would have helped me fall asleep last night.”

We talked for a few minutes, and then I pointed to my office. “I have a video conference in a few minutes, so I won’t be able to answer the phones for an hour. After that, I’m good until a late-afternoon conference here in the office.”

“No problem. I got the phones.”

“Thanks.” I went to turn away, then remembered what I’d wanted to ask him this morning before he arrived. “Would you mind if I hang a small whiteboard on my office door? I have those glue sticky things to put it up with, so it won’t ruin the door.”

“Help yourself.”

After putting yet another call through to Drew, I managed to hang the whiteboard level on my door before my video call. My plan was to write a thought-provoking statement on it each day, as I’d always done on my website when my counseling was strictly video conferences and telephone calls. Now that people visited, I wanted to continue the practice.

Since my appointment hadn’t rung on my computer yet, I grabbed my reading glasses, went to the journal where I kept relationship thoughts and quotes, and thumbed through until I found one I liked. I printed it neatly on the whiteboard.



Blowing out someone else’s candle doesn’t make yours shine brighter.

Today I will make my spouse shine by ___________________.



I stepped back and smiled, rereading my quote. God, I love helping people.





“Rifle though her mail. I don’t give a shit how you find out. I need to know if she’s shacking up with the guy before tomorrow at two.”

I hadn’t seen Drew since this morning, although I heard him loud and clear as I rinsed out my coffee mug in the small kitchen next to his office.

“Roman, I’ll give you five grand if you get an intimate photo of them together. Drop off a picnic basket at the front door if you have to—just get them out in public looking cozy.” Drew’s voice boomed through the hall, followed by a hearty laugh. And then, “Yeah, right. Blow me, big guy…Later.”

While I was drying my coffee mug, Drew came into the kitchen.

“I couldn’t help but overhear part of your conversation.”

“Oh yeah? Which part?”

I smiled. “Most of it. I take it you and your private investigator are close?”

Drew grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator and twisted the cap off. “Roman’s been my best friend since I stole his girlfriend in sixth grade.”

“You stole his girlfriend and that made you friends?”

“Yep. He’d given her the chicken pox, which she then passed to me. Roman and I both got bad cases and were out of school for two weeks. We wound up playing video games at his place for ten days straight.”