Cheat – What he overhears leads him to act quickly

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Cheat wife, What he overhears leads him to act quickly

All the way home, Nick couldn’t stop grinning. He hadn’t expected to hear about the promotion for another couple of weeks; but just that morning Rozand had come striding into his office and told him the good news.

“The boys upstairs really liked the way you handled that Japanese situation, Nick—and none of us sees any point in waiting around. So let me be the first one to shake the hand of our new Vice-President for Far East Sales!”

Nick had gulped, thanked Rozand, and sat with him for nearly an hour as they discussed the perks and the responsibilities of the new position. After that, Nick was simply too euphoric to stay in his office a moment longer. He called Suzanne in and gave her the news.

“Suzanne, I hope you won’t mind changing jobs.” He watched with amusement as her face fell.

“Nick, are you…replacing me?” She looked genuinely wounded.

“Not at all, Suzanne, you know I couldn’t get a damn thing done without you! It’s just that you’ll have to accustom yourself to working for the Vice-President for Far East Sales—think you can handle that?”

Suzanne looked blank, then squealed with joy and gave Nick a big hug. She was a competent, rather stout middle-aged woman, a good 15 years older than Nick. But she’d worked for him practically since his first days at Thomaston Chemical and they were genuinely fond of one another. She and her husband had advised Nick and Emily on the best school districts when they were planning to buy a house; Nick had helped Suzanne’s oldest son find an internship at Thomaston after his freshman year of college.

Suzanne babbled away happily, asking Nick a million questions about the new job. When he finally could get a word in edgewise he said, “I’m going to ask you to hold the fort for today, okay? I’ve just gotta get home and give Emily the news.”

They hugged again, and Nick headed for the parking lot. Champagne, he thought. Champagne and an afternoon in bed! It was July, so Emily’s summer vacation from teaching was in full swing. And both Charlie and Ben were at day camp until nearly 5:30, so there’d be plenty of time.

Nick banged the steering wheel rhythmically, singing along with the Beach Boys in a loud, not terribly pleasant baritone. No need to stop for champagne—he knew there was a bottle in the fridge unopened since their 11th anniversary about two months earlier.

He could hardly wait to burst in with his news, grab Emily and carry her upstairs to the bedroom.

But just as Nick swung the car onto Thornton Drive, he could see Emily’s VW headed down the street in the opposite direction—too far away for him to catch up to her without speeding dangerously down the quiet residential street.

Shit! He grabbed his phone and called her cell, but it seemed to be turned off.

Sighing to himself, Nick parked in the garage and headed inside. Maybe she’d just gone to do the grocery shopping or run some errands; perhaps they’d still have a couple of hours later in the afternoon.

He ran upstairs and got out of his business clothes, coming back downstairs in shorts and a T-shirt. Making himself a quick sandwich and grabbing a beer, he wandered out towards the backyard patio. But as he passed the study he noticed that Emily had left the computer on. Out of pure random curiosity he went over to see what she’d been doing.

Her email was open, but it wasn’t her school account. Instead it was a Hotmail account he knew nothing about, and her user name was Jane309, using her middle name and her birthday. Why did she have a second email account?

He glanced at the Sent folder, seeing only two names: her sister April out in California and an unfamiliar one: [email protected]. There were about eight messages to that address, including her most recently sent one. Nick clicked it open:


“ohmygod your message made my nipples stand up! I can’t risk Sunday—no telling what Nick might be doing. Let’s meet there Monday at 11. I can’t wait!

“xxoo E”

Nick sat back in shock, staring at the screen. What the fuck?

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