“No. Would you like something to drink?” I ask, unsure what she’s doing here but desperately needing a glass of something right about now.
I turn on my heel and head toward the bar in the living room. Sam follows me, neither one of us attempting to make small talk.
When I stop in front of the bar and begin to pour myself a glass of bourbon, I turn to look at Sam and ask, “What can I get you?”
Instead of answering me, she practically collapses onto the new oversized ottoman I bought, the only comfortable piece of furniture in the entire room since I haven’t gotten around to replacing all of this minimalist stuff. I watch in confusion as she covers her face with her hands and begins to cry.
Terrific. Now the woman my husband brought to the party is sobbing in front of me. This day just keeps getting better and better.
I pour her a glass of bourbon and walk over to sit on the ottoman with her. As she continues to cry, I nudge her and say, “Here. Drink some of this. You’ll feel better.”
She sniffles and turns to look at me. Her mascara runs in streaks down her cheeks, and her nose is bright red from crying. I recognize that look all too well. How many times have I cried over some guy? I may be nearly a decade older than her, but I have a feeling I know what’s going on with Sam.
“I don’t really drink,” she says as she takes the glass from me. “Will I get drunk?”
Chuckling, I nod and lift my glass to take a drink of bourbon. “If you’re lucky. Cheers!”
Now that I’ve gotten her to stop crying, I wait until she takes a few sips of her drink before handing her a tissue. “Here, clean your face. Sam, what are you doing here, and why are you crying?”
She hesitates and then answers as she rubs the mascara off her skin, “Marius texted me that he’s letting me go because he can’t be around me anymore. I just don’t understand.”
That makes her start crying again, so while I wait for her to calm down, I take another drink. Why am I not surprised he sent her that text? Men can be such idiots sometimes.
“It’s okay. I’ll talk to him. Wives have a way of getting through where others can’t.”
As I say that, she stares at me with her mouth hanging open. When I finish, she stammers out, “Wi-wi-wife? What?”
“Yeah. I’m Mrs. King. Marius and I have been married for two years. Don’t feel bad that he never mentioned it to you. My best friend Ava, the woman whose house the party was at, just found out today.”
That causes another bout of crying that lasts a few minutes. That husband of mine is having a wonderful effect on people today. I served him with divorce papers. Ava slapped him across the face. And Sam is bawling her eyes out over him.
It’s been a hell of a day for Marius.
When Sam finally regains her composure, she turns her body to face me and frowns. “I’m so sorry. That’s why you left the party so early. I had no idea he was married. I would have never gone with him to that party if I knew. I’m so embarrassed.”
I set my glass down on the coffee table nearby and take hers to join it before opening my arms to hug her. “Please, don’t worry. I know Marius wasn’t looking to cheat on me. He was trying, in his stupid man way, to prove a point. That he involved you in that was wrong. I’m sorry. Come here.”
She isn’t sure at first, but I suspect her desire to feel better wins over everything else she’s feeling, and she practically collapses into my hold. As I thought would happen, she begins to cry again, so I gently pat her back.
“It’s okay. I’ll talk to him about your job. As for the two of us, we’re good. I don’t blame you, Sam. My husband is like most men. He means well, but sometimes he misses the mark.”
“He’s always been the best boss I’ve ever had,” she says in between sobs against my shoulder. “I didn’t know all those times I thought he was flirting with me that he was married. I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, it’s okay. I’m sure he was flirting. That’s Marius for you.”
Sam leans back away from me and wipes under her eyes. “I swear we never did anything. He never made any moves. He didn’t even want to kiss me when I was leaving that day after the party. I swear.”
“I believe you. Marius isn’t a bad man. I’m sure he never meant to make you cry. As I said, he thinks he’s doing good things, and most of the time he does. Like this penthouse he bought me.”
Looking around at the beautiful home he gave me, I smile. “I mentioned once that I wanted somewhere better than where we were, and a week later, he brought me here and said it was mine.”
Sam practically gawks as she looks at my home. “You’re very lucky then. I’d love to have someone buy me a place like this. You should see my apartment. It’s a two bedroom with one bathroom I share with two other girls just so I can afford my junky car, although Marius said he was going to give me a year’s salary as severance pay.”
That sounds like him. The man knows how to spend money. That’s for sure.
“I think he’s going to want to keep you as his assistant, Sam. Whether you want to stay working for a man who lied to you is entirely your choice.”
She’s quiet, and I think I know why, so I continue. “You care about him, don’t you?”
