An Honorable Deception

That caused her to explode, "A postnup! Why the hell would we get a postnup? Are you out of your goddamned mind? If you want to sign up for a postnup, go right ahead, but I'm not. If we get to that point, then we may as well call it quits."

He was surprised that she still wasn't getting it...or refused to.

She could see him visibly deflate after that. It was like the spark inside of him had been snuffed out.

He was shaking his head. "I was just trying to protect your partnership and our retirement accounts. I mean, otherwise, everything is 50/50 if we get that far."

He turned to walk towards his home office.

She didn't think she had verbally hit him that hard, but it was clear he was extremely dejected at the moment, "Where are you going?"

"To start looking for counselors."

In a much more reserved tone, she responded, "Oh... Okay."

She didn't think they were finished with their conversation, but she could tell that he was.

Later that evening, as she was preparing for bed, the French double doors to the home office were open. She saw him working on his laptop, and she knocked on the door frame. "Hey. How's it going?"

"It's going. I'll narrow the counselor list down to a shortlist of three, and then you can review and select the one you want. Or you can bring your own list."

She didn't think he sounded very enthused about the counseling. Honestly, she wasn't enthused about going through it, but she was hopeful that they could find something to which they could both hang on and then reconnect as a couple.

"No. I have faith that you'll find a good one. Just let me know if you need anything."

"Okay."

"Are you going to be up much longer?"

That sounded like an invitation to him, but he wasn't in the mood. "Yeah, a little while. I have a couple of client reviews early tomorrow that I need to prepare for."

Having become an expert in dodging, she knew a dodge when she heard it. Disappointed, she resisted the urge to blow up on him and softly replied, "Okay. Good night." She knew they had a lot of work in front of them.

________________

The agreement to seek counseling effectively 'kicked the can' down the road. They immediately fell into their usual habits and only ate together on Saturday and Sunday night. One night they ordered Chinese, and on the other, Greg cooked with Jen, which made for a single pleasant evening out of seven that week, which was more their norm than not.

The following Monday morning, Liz walked into his office with two cups of coffee in her hands. She eased the door closed by pushing it with her butt.

Greg smiled but raised his eyebrow at her closing the door.

She asked, "How are you hanging in there?"

"Honestly? I don't know. This is kind of a big week, isn't it?"

She nodded her head in understanding, then asked, "I've never really said much about my first marriage, have I?" She was about to share something with him that only her late husband knew.

He shook his head wondering what was coming.

"I think I've told you that where we grew up in Russia was a struggle. There never was much. Good jobs were hard to find. Even harder unless you were connected, politically. Even then, I was growing up right after the collapse of the old Soviet regime. I would say those were hard times, but in my small town, my family and everyone else believed, truly believed, that that was just the way life in Russia was. Nobody in our town was optimistic.

"As I grew and more of the outside world seeped in, some countries, like Australia and America seemed too fantastic to believe. What regimes don't realize is that the more propaganda that they feed to the people, the more the people believe the opposite of what they are fed. So if the government was telling us that the West, or the U.S. in particular, wasn't that special, then it must really be something.

"I was determined to get out of my small town and out of Russia. I heard some of the older girls talking about being a mail-order bride. I was willing to do anything to get out of there. Now, in hindsight, I was incredibly lucky. I know sometimes girls end up captured by sex trafficking rings. I was so determined but so naive.

"Birth certificates where I was born were not as official as they are here and easily changed given the right incentive, so at just over seventeen, I signed up to be a mail-order bride and spent time working to get my birth certificate changed and my passport so I could come. It only took six months.

"My first American husband, who was thirty when we married, was not a kind man nor good man, but I didn't care. I'd seen much worse abuse in my own small town, so the slaps, bruises on the arm, and the occasional black eye didn't bother me. Not really. I was playing the long game. Compared to where I grew up, I knew...I believed that things would get better. And they did."

"Once in the U.S., while waiting for my working papers, I would visit with our neighbor -- Mrs. Heaton, a sweet older lady that watched after her grandchildren while her kids worked. When I was able to start working, I wanted to work at the local mall. I sold perfume, and it was glorious. Coming from my town which had very little, working in a mall selling wonderful fragrances was like going to Disneyworld every day.

"After I was here about eight months, I became pregnant, which would help my chances of getting a green card and eventually citizenship. My husband was crazy about my being pregnant, because he didn't have a great desire to have children. I assured him that with my working, I could handle any extra costs. He didn't care as long as he could continue to fuck me.

"What my husband didn't know was that every time he left a mark on me, I would visit with Mrs. Heaton. She had a digital camera. This was before cell phones. She would take a picture of the bruise.

"I may have agitated him just a bit more than normal leading up to my due date. When I gave birth to Jonathan, I still had bruises on my arm and cheek. They called the police. Mrs. Heaton innocently supplied dozens of examples of evidence. This was his second violent arrest. His first was a bar brawl when he was a much younger man. He was arrested and put away for two years. Couldn't have a violent wife-beater near a baby and new mother.

"We divorced right away. He tried to have me sent back to Russia, but that went nowhere. He had no real interest in being a father, and I've not spoken to him since.

"I moved in with Mrs. Heaton, who helped me by watching Jonathan while I worked. She was a wonderful woman. A couple of years later, while working at the mall, I met my second husband, David. He was everything I had hoped for but didn't get with my first husband.

"David was kind and sweet. He was an accountant, and he loved Jonathan. David helped me get into some night classes at the local community college, and I began working on my education. He helped me get my green card and eventually citizenship. He was wonderful. You remind me of him."

She paused and smiled at the remembrance.

"Anyway...I've told you about the accident that killed him. He had good life insurance which allowed me to pay off the house and work my way through college. Mrs. Heaton passed not long after he did. Then I worked a couple of different jobs until you and Ron hired me.

"The reason I'm telling you all this is because when things looked bad, really bad, like when I was being beaten or right after David had died...I still believed that things would get better. Now, with what is happening with you and Jen, I imagine that the immediate future looks difficult for you, at least emotionally. But I want you to know, to believe, that things will get better because they will."

He thought it was an impassioned declaration of her beliefs - a bit inspiring, actually.

He reached across the desk to squeeze her hand and replied, "I'll try."

______________

On Tuesday evening, Greg once again saved Jen some dinner and sat a list of counselors on top of a folder by her plate. She arrived at 8:00 pm, just after her usual time, and prepared to eat. The offered apology for being late sounded just like all the others from the last several years.

As she was eating, Greg sat across from her and said, "I started the list and then gave it to Liz to help research them. Since you came into the office after...you know...she's aware that we're looking for counseling and offered to help however she could.

"Of course, that meant that she is now an expert on our local counselors, having researched a couple of dozen, phone interviewed ten, provided me with a list of six to call, and then she and I narrowed it down to this list of three. The folder contains all of her research."

Jen smiled, "If I didn't think you'd kill me, I'd try to hire her away from you. It's hard to imagine a harder working or more efficient admin or analyst, or whatever her current title is. I told her when I was in there that your office would be lost without her."

"I'm sure she'll repeat that when it's time for her annual review."

That brought out a chuckle, "Good. She probably deserves a raise."

Greg nodded. "She probably does. What she really needs is an assistant of her own."

Jen asked, "Is she still dating those stud muffins like we saw her with several years ago?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I know she isn't dating much, which she finds funny because when Jonathan was younger, she dated just for fun, but now that he's in college she's eased back a bit."

"She's still young. She's still beautiful. She doesn't look a day over thirty-five. She reminds me of Rose Leslie from The Good Fight and Game of Thrones. She doesn't knock your socks off the first time you meet her, but over time, she's a stunner. I'll bet she's going to age beautifully. I'm sure she has no shortage of interested men."

"She told me that after the problems with husband number one and then burying husband number two, she's in no hurry to land husband number three. But she doesn't mind the occasional date." He chuckled, "probably to take the edge off."

"Good for her. She deserves someone good. Especially considering what she's been through. She was an actual mail-order bride for God's sake. One time, when she and Jonathan joined us at our vacation house and it was just the two of us sitting outside, she shared a little bit with me about her first husband. She didn't provide many details, but it didn't sound good."

He nodded his head. Not wanting to reveal the details Liz had shared with him, he replied, "She gave me the same. Well, Russia's loss is our gain. She does deserve something good, though."

"I'll look at this list starting tonight, and we'll pick one out sometime between now and this weekend. Okay?"

"Okay."

That night they made love for the first time in what was now seven weeks. It was slow and sweet, and when they finished, she snuggled back into him hoping that things were going to begin getting better.

______________

The next morning, Wednesday, she left the house early, as she normally did, to work out at the gym that was within walking distance from her office. The entire time during her workout, she was conflicted with her schedule for that day. She was remembering the very good night she had last night but also thinking about the good lunch that she could have in a few hours.

It weighed heavily on her mind, especially after she received a text on her second cell phone that she left in her office and only used every other Wednesday, displaying the room number - "2408."

Nevertheless, at the appropriate time, she told her admin that she had an appointment and lunch and would be back around two o'clock.

Entering the hotel several blocks down and over from her office, she had almost convinced herself that she could do this a few more times. Maybe continue until the counseling started. After all, she hadn't been caught, yet. And if she were caught, now she had a get-out-of-jail-free card.

As she strolled into the elevator and pushed the button for her floor, she could hear a rapid 'click click click click' approaching, followed by a very rapid and very southern "wait, wait, waaait!"

Jen smiled and pushed the "Door Open" button to hold it for the upcoming woman.

She watched as a short, curvy woman, about her age, also wearing a business suit and heels, with a skirt that was form-fitting down to below her knees, carrying a large messenger bag dash into the elevator.

Chuckling, Jen asked, "What floor?"

Turning towards Jen and looking at the mass of buttons, she replied, "Twenty-four. Oh, you're going there, too. Thank you, Honey. You know there are some days that I wish men had to wear tight skirts and high heels just to see how quickly they could move."

That brought a smile to Jen's face. She replied, "I think some already do."

That set both of them to cackling.

"Oh, don't get me started on that. There aren't enough good men already."

Jen complimented her, "I like your accent."

"Thanks again. Some people say I sound like Dolly. I wouldn't mind her money, but I'll pass on those back-breaking boobs, though I wouldn't mind having them for an hour or two for a steamy date and then give them back."

Jen responded, "Amen to that."

That set them both to laughing again.

The shorter woman said, "I love your suit. Is that an Armani?"

Jen replied "Close. It is Italian. It's a Cavalli."

"I didn't even know they sold those around here."

"I didn't either. My husband picked it out for me for my birthday last year."

The small woman exclaimed, "Your husband went shopping for you and had the taste to pick out THAT?"

Jen smiled, "Mmmhmm. For nine of the last ten years, he and my daughter have made a day of it. He takes her to lunch, and they shop for my birthday. I know she helps, but I think he or his admin has the department manager at Nieman Marcus pick out some of the prettiest ones for them to look at. I'd be surprised if he's going through the racks all day."

"Still. I'm impressed. Nine out of ten years? Damn."

Wanting to brag on her husband she declared, "This past year he sent me and my daughter to the spa while he cooked dinner for me."

"Holy shit. Can I borrow him for a weekend? I promise to send him back when I'm through with him."

"Oh no. Looking at you, I'd be afraid he might not want to come back."

That elicited a smile from the newcomer.

"He shops and cooks? Let me guess. He also washes dishes, looks like Brad Pitt, dances like Fred Astaire, and whispers sweet nothings to you in French while loving you like Don Juan.

That got another laugh from the two women.

Jen responded, "Well, there is only one Brad Pitt. Instead of French, we were supposed to take Italian together before we eventually go to Italy. I don't know if he's Don Juan, but he knows how to curl my toes. But if you ever get him on the dance floor, you better have on steel-toed shoes. At least until we take lessons for that, too."

"Sounds like a keeper."

Jen's face softened upon hearing that, especially given where she was standing. "Oh, he's not perfect, but he is a good guy that makes mistakes. We're working through some of those, his and mine, very soon."

"Oh, well. Sorry to hear about those, but I'm glad you're working through them. I'm still looking for Mister Right number two. Be glad that you're still on number one."

Recognizing that she was barely hanging on to number one, in a voice barely above a whisper, Jen said, "Thanks."

"I'm Charla, by the way. Charla Harris." She held out her hand to shake.

Jen looked at her hand, smiled, and replied, "Jen West. Pleased to meet you."

"Forgive me, but my partners would kill me if I didn't give you one of my cards. If you're ever in need of delivery services, we're your team."

That lowered the fun in the elevator a couple of levels, but she took the card anyway.

Fiduciary Couriers

Women-owned and operated

Jen perked back up, "Hey, I know your company. We use you for delivering legal documents and process serving. I'm in tax law so I don't use your company that often, but I'll remember you going forward. Still women only?"

The elevator dinged for their floor, and they prepared to step into the hall.

"MmmHmm. So far. We had a lot of help getting off the ground, including a couple of good men, but being women-only helps us land a few clients we might not otherwise get. Also, while we do process serving, we don't really want to take those. Those can be soul-crushing at times. Most of our revenue is in small precious package delivery and medical delivery services."

"Good for you."

"Wait. Did you say your last name was West?"

"I did."

"Do you happen to know Gregory West?" Charla knew exactly who Gregory West was, and Jennifer West. Her confirming that a moment earlier was no accident.

"He's my husband."

Charla smiled sweetly and replied, "His partner Ron helped us raise the funds to get our business off the ground. Now that we're doing well, Greg manages all of our retirement portfolios. I've actually eaten lunch with him. Oh, that sounds bad. With my other partners...at the same time. I mean...I'm sorry. I'm flustered and embarrassed because of what I said earlier. Anyway. We speak on the phone three or four times a year to review my retirement accounts. I trust him. I sleep better at night not worrying about my retirement."

"Wow. Small world," said Jen.

"It really is." However, Charla knew she was standing next to Greg's wife. Not knowing what floor Jen was supposed to be on, Charla had been waiting for her to arrive to get on the elevator with her, hoping she wouldn't come today.

Jen thought about her husband for a second and decided that she wasn't going to go through with her 'lunch' that day. She would just tell Trent, who she didn't love but had kind of enjoyed, that it was over and go back to work. If he wanted to discuss why, she would call him from her burner phone, then throw it away. She was feeling a little better regarding her situation. She and Greg did have a ton of work in front of them, but she truly believed that they could find a way to make their marriage better.

As they approached the door where Jen was going, she was only now becoming aware that Charla was still walking with her.

She paused two steps from the door and looked at Charla, "What room are you delivering to?"

"End of the hall."

"Oh. Well, it was nice meeting you, Charla."

"Jen?"

"Yes?"

"I can guess why you're here. Don't go in there."

"What?"

"You don't want to go in there? Nothing but heartache lies on the other side of that door."

Surprised, Jen asked, "Excuse me? I only need to deliver a message. Then I'm leaving. Not that it's any of your business. Have a nice day, Charla."

Jen turned back towards the door and knocked loudly three times.

Charla let out a resigning sigh, followed by a commanding, "Jennifer Nicole West."

Jen was irritated now, but how did Charla know her middle...

Stuffing the large envelope into Jen's hand, she asserted, "You've been served."

Jen's knees buckled, and she stumbled backwards into the door, which opened into and against a stunned Trent, banging hard off the corner of his forehead. He caught her just before she hit the floor. In less than a second Trent watched her turn a pale color and tears began to form.

"Oh my God!"

"What the fuck! What just happened," Trent asked.

"I was just served."

"For what?"

Jen responded, "It's Greg. I know it's Greg."

Seeing the envelope, he said, "Wait a second. Let's see what this contains, first."

They sat on the bed and opened the envelope. Inside were four separate, smaller envelopes numbered, #1, #2, #3 and #4, respectively. On the bottom corner of envelope #2 was 1POSOB. Jen could only shake her head, having a good idea of what she was about to see.