Read Mrs. Perfect for Free Online

breathing.
    But even as I breathe in and out, I feel the panic build inside of me. I’m too damn busy lately. I’m juggling too many balls. I shouldn’t have agreed to co-chair the school auction this year. I barely got through last year in one piece, and last year I was only the silent auction procurer chair.
    It’s going to be fine, I repeat. Nathan and I have just hit a little rough patch. That’s normal, it happens to all couples, even couples like us.
    Maybe that’s why I’m panicking.
    Nathan and I never used to have problems. Nathan has been my godsend.
    Life before Nathan was a bitch. I might look like All That now, but it’s something I’ve worked for, something I still work for, and I can’t imagine my life without him.
    Truthfully, I never thought my life would turn out like this. Growing up was a nightmare—you don’t want to know all the sordid details—but despite the disaster at home, I excelled in school.
    I did the whole cheerleader/homecoming court/student body thing in high school before spending four years as an Alpha Beta Pi at USC.
    I first met Nathan (Nathan Charles Young III) while we were both undergrads when we were set up for a fraternity/sorority dance. I was a sophomore and he was a fifth-year senior, as he’d redshirted for the football team. Move ahead sixteen years and you have us today living in our lovely home in the Pacific Northwest with three gorgeous girls—ten-year-old Jemma, seven-year-old Brooke, and four-year-old Tori.
    Despite once having an interesting career in PR and communications, I’m now a full-time mom by choice. Nathan and I agreed from the beginning that I’d stay home with the children. He was making great money in his career, and we didn’t want our children raised by anyone else.
    I wanted to be the kind of mother my own mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, be. Room mom, PTA president, office volunteer. Of course, there are days when I long for some peace and a less structured life, but for the most part I have no regrets. I like the power. I want the power. And don’t think being a stay-at-home mom isn’t powerful.
    I can bring a school board to its knees. I heard via the grapevine that I once made a principal cry. But I’ve never been malicious. I’m in this not for me, but for my children. I want the best for my children. I want to help them get ahead. I want them to have every opportunity.
    The only drawback?
    Our lives are really jam-packed. Sometimes too stressful. But then I look at the great friends we have, and our lifestyle—Christmas at Sun Valley, February at St. Barts, and Easter usually in Hawaii, while summer vacations we head to Jackson Hole.
    I don’t think we ever meant to travel this much, but it’s what our group does, and the kids love being with our friends, and it’s hard staying home when you know what a fantastic time everyone else is having. Which reminds me. We were supposed to be gone this weekend, escaping for the three-day weekend to Vashon.
    Sighing, I reluctantly put thoughts of relaxing on Vashon Island out of my mind. We’re here this weekend. We might as well make the most of it.
    Nathan’s up and gone by the time I come downstairs in the morning. I heard him shower earlier—he must have already hit the gym—and he left a note in the kitchen saying he’s gone to have breakfast at the country club with the guys before they tee off.
    With Nathan gone, I let the girls lounge in their pajamas until ten, when I insist they finally turn off the TV and computer games and get dressed if they want to go have lunch at Bellevue Square and do a little shopping.
    Jemma immediately begs to go to the Cheesecake Factory, while Tori pleads for Red Robin. “It’ll probably be the Nordstrom café,” I say.
    They groan.
    “What’s wrong with the café?”
    “Nothing,” Jemma answers unhappily, “but we always eat there, and it’s boring. I want to go somewhere fun.”
    “Yeah, fun,” Tori adds, and Brooke