My Wife’s Demanding Boss by Thorne, Jaime

is absolutely a cop-out. Because none of that is real. Because all of that is just a lie you sell yourself because it's easier than the real truth. Because I don't want to admit that, right here and right now, I fuck everything up. "Of course," I hear myself say, "You want to talk about Weston. Why not. Why not talk about him, I mean you spend every waking moment of the day with the man why not have the few minutes you're with me involve him as well." Her eyes flick up and the look behind them is cold. I watch as they narrow, as she chooses her words carefully. "Not sure where that came from," she says, "I suppose I have been working late a lot, but that's part of the job. But fine if you don't want to talk about Weston then I guess we can talk about the trip in general. Something about it stood out as odd to me." I shake my head and I chuckle without any mirth, "Of course, let's talk about your two days in paradise then." Paradise. That's what it is when you book a days worth of meetings in the city of love. When you drag along your secretary with you and you keep all the meetings off the books. When you pay for everything out of pocket because you don't want there to be a trail. "I'm just wondering why," she goes on, ignoring my cruel verbal stab at her, "Something about it doesn't add up to me. I was figuring you might have some idea. Because Weston never struck me as the sort of guy... he has always been a man of efficiency and... something isn't..." Well I knew one thing