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Home Flash Fiction No Wiggle Room

No Wiggle Room

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Lainie sat staring at the unopened envelope. She let out a long sigh, sliced the package open, and slid the contents out onto the kitchen counter.

Three hours later, envelope in hand, she entered the restaurant looking hotter than a jalapeno. Dark curls swept up off her neck, her dress of champagne-colored lace blended with her creamy skin. She turned every head in the place … except two.

Lainie strode over to a booth where a man and woman sat in close contact, quietly conversing. When her husband looked up, Lainie watched the color drain from his face. His eyes widened, and he sputtered, “Lainie! Wha … what are you doing here?”

The woman he was with turned questioning eyes on Lainie.

So, the rotten bastard didn’t bother to tell you he’s married, Lainie thought.

Her face was filled with disgust when she looked back at Tom. “I’m certainly glad I insisted that prenup infidelity clause apply to both of us. Thanks for making this easy.”

“Now wait a minute, Lainie. Margo and I were just having a business dinner … an oversight meeting, that’s all. There’s no reason for you to jump to the wrong conclusion, baby.”

Margo gagged on her water. When she recovered, she glared at Tom. “You didn’t mention you were married. I guess this really was an oversight meeting!” She picked up her purse, slid out of the booth, turned and headed for the door.

Sweat trickled down Tom’s temple, but he was a lawyer, a man used to talking his way out of anything. Just as Lainie expected, he put on his most charming grin. His eyes slid from her face to roam the curves of her body. “I’ve never seen that dress before. You look fabulous tonight!”

Did he really think he was so irresistible she’d forgive him no matter what? Lainie realized in that moment there was no denying she’d married a scumbag.

She squared her shoulders, glared, and said, “Tell it to my attorney.”

“But, honey, you don’t understand …”

“Don’t ‘honey’ me, Tom,” Lainie interrupted. “And I understand more than you know.” She dumped the photographs on the table, some of them landing in the unfinished dessert.

Tom spewed his wine.

Lainie picked up one of the pictures and gave it a glance. “Even I have to admit Margo looks pretty sultry in that red bra and panties. And look, your hands are all over her.”

Tom stuck his finger between his neck and shirt then tugged as if someone were strangling him.

Lainie’s eyes filled with sadness. “Unfortunately you’re not going to be able to talk your way out of this one. It’s over, Tom.”



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