My Husband Kissed His Pregnant Mistress While 200 Women Waited for My Marriage Advice novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: Five Minutes
Backstage, Joanna watches Neil kiss his pregnant mistress, walks on stage, refunds all two hundred tickets and cancels his card. In the garage her son says he has known since March.
My husband kissed his pregnant mistress backstage while two hundred women waited for me to teach them how to save their marriages.
Neil stood close to Candace with a steadying hand at her waist, the way he'd steadied me on a hundred stairs.
She held a strip of ultrasound pictures against his chest, and when she pulled back, he pressed his forehead to hers.
I knew that touch, because it had been mine.
Neil had given it to me in a maternity ward fifteen years ago, with our newborn son asleep on my chest.
Candace had brought me tea with honey in it an hour earlier.
"For your voice," she'd said, and squeezed my arm.
She had told me she was late because she'd driven back from Harlow, where she looked after her sister every other weekend.
The strip in her hand had Harlow Women's Health printed along the edge.
I only noticed that because I was staring at it. I couldn't look at his face.
A production assistant hurried past with my microphone.
"Joanna, you're on in five."
Through the ballroom doors I could hear the crowd at the Bellhaven Harbor Hotel.
A giant photo of me was already glowing on the stage screens, with my name and my license under it.
Neil looked up and saw me.
He didn't step away from her.
He smiled the warm smile I had loved for years and walked over with his hand out for mine.
"Jo, there you are. You look perfect. Knock them dead."
"Neil."
"Don't do this now." His voice was low and warm. "We'll talk after. You smile, you do your hour, and I'll make sure nobody asks questions."
Candace hadn't moved. She had gone pale, and her fingers were tight on the ultrasound strip.
"Joanna, I can explain," she said.
"I'm sure you can."
Neil squeezed my shoulder. "Two hundred women paid a hundred and forty-nine dollars each. You're not going to embarrass them. Or me."
I thought about all the Tuesdays I had sat across from couples and said, stay, work on it, there is always something left to save.
Then I lifted his hand off my shoulder and let it drop.
"Marcy," I said.
My producer was already beside me with her headset around her neck. She had seen all of it from the cable cart.
"Say the word," Marcy said.
"Open the doors."
The stage lights hit me and the room went quiet.
Two hundred women in good coats sat in rows with notebooks open. Some had brought their husbands' names written on the first page. A woman in the front row had a tissue ready already.
I walked to the center of the stage, and my own photo looked down at me.
"Thank you for coming," I said. "I know you drove a long way, and some of you took the day off to be here."
Somebody clapped. I waited for it to stop.
"Tonight's session is cancelled."
A murmur ran through the rows.
"Every ticket will be refunded in full before you get home. I'm sending the confirmation myself, and my team will stay in the lobby until every one of you has it on your phone."
"What happened?" a woman called out.
"I'll answer that one question." My voice was steady, and I was surprised. "The man who helped me plan this evening was kissing someone else behind that curtain two minutes ago. I'm not in a position to teach you how to save a marriage tonight."
For a moment nobody moved. Then everyone talked at once.
I handed my microphone to the nearest stagehand and walked off the other side.
Neil was waiting in the wings. He grabbed my wrist.
"What was that? You humiliated me in front of my own company."
"It's my company."
"You'd be nothing without me running it."
I took out my phone with my free hand and opened the banking app. I'd had it open in my coat pocket since the kiss.
"The company card ends tonight, Neil. So does your expense account."
I pressed the button where he could see it.
His phone buzzed in his jacket. He pulled it out and read the screen.
The hotel's billing system had sent him a notice: card declined for Suite 612.
His face went blank.
Behind him, Candace had both hands over her stomach. Marcy was already leading the stagehands toward the lobby.
I walked down the service corridor to the parking garage, and my legs started shaking only when I reached the car.
Someone was sitting in the back seat in the dark.
My fifteen-year-old son had his school blazer on and his phone in both hands.
"Mom," Miles said. "I'm sorry. I've known since March. I have the pictures."
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