Fine. Yes, I have a secret that isn’t the sort I would advertise on my YouTube show.
I kissed Mark Tanner.
It’s not like me at all. At all. I’m a good person—I swear. I brought Carrie Schaeffer no less than ten casseroles since her husband left her. When I’m driving, I always let people cut in front of me or make turns. They say that what you do when you drive shows what kind of person you really are deep down.
It was nothing. Just one kiss. Barely even a kiss. Mostly lip, hardly any tongue.
It all started when I was running the spring bake sale for the PTA, and Mark had volunteered to help me set up. Then he volunteered to give Bobby some soccer lessons. At first, it was just friendship. Nothing more. Mark would invite me out for breakfast after I dropped Bobby off at school. He would stop in during the day when Elliot was at work. But nothing happened.
Not that this is an excuse, but it wouldn’t have happened if Elliot were around more often. I mean, he spends more hours at work than he does at home, and that includes sleeping hours. And even though I knew I shouldn’t have, I started to complain to Mark about how little I saw Elliot anymore. How little attention he paid to me. How infrequently we had sex lately.
And then one day, while we were talking in my kitchen, he leaned forward and kissed me.
Of course, that’s as far as it ever went. The one kiss. I enjoyed it for maybe a split second, then I came to my senses and pushed him away. Of course I did! I couldn’t go through with something like that. I couldn’t do it to my husband or Mark’s wife. It was just wrong.
Yes, I felt neglected by Elliot, but I still loved him. And also, can you imagine what my Sweet Secrets viewers would think if it got out that I was cheating on my husband with another man?
I explained all this to Mark. And he totally got it. And now we’re just friends again. That’s it.
Yet somehow somebody has a photograph of Mark and me taken during that one kiss, snapped through my living room window.
One thing. I do one thing wrong in my entire life, and now I’m being threatened with it.
I have no idea what they plan to do with it. But a photograph like that could destroy my marriage if Elliot ever saw it. If it got out on the Internet, it would destroy my cooking show—part of my image is being a wholesome home cook, and nobody will want to watch me if I’m a cheating bitch. Nobody would believe that it just happened one time, and I pushed him away. This photograph could mean the end of my life as I know it.
I need to figure out who’s doing this. And what they want from me. But one thing is certain. This person means business.
