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Fifty-one freeway’s under construction, so I pushed the tee time back to two-thirty. Since I had a few free hours, I offered to take Dr. Locane to look at some potential office sites. I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer your cell.” He reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a sheaf of real estate listings. “This is just business. So whatever it is that you’re accusing me of—”
    “I’m accusing you of Vixen_MD and the red thong.”
    His jaw slackened and his eyes went wide with panic.
    “Uh-huh.” She crossed her arms tightly and nodded. “Well, I guess that settles that.”
    “Ellie, listen,” he croaked. “You don’t understand.”
    Something inside her snapped as he collapsed into contrition. She dug the jagged tip of her key into the convertible’s shiny red paint and knew she should stop—this was so adolescent, so undignified—but she couldn’t. Rage completely engulfed her restraint. She gouged metal against metal all the way from hood to trunk.
    Michael looked horrified. “What are you
doing
?”
    She lifted her chin. “I’m going home, I’m putting Hannah down for a nap, and then I’m hiring an attorney. As of this moment, we are no longer married.”

    Jen Chapter
5
     

Clause 7: Obligation of Fidelity
It is further acknowledged that the parties’ marriage is intended to be an exclusive relationship between Husband and Wife that is premised upon the values of emotional and sexual fidelity, and mutual trust. The parties hereto are subject to a legal obligation of emotional and sexual fidelity to the other.

In the event it is shown by a preponderance of the evidence in a court that either party has engaged in any breach of the obligation of sexual fidelity as defined hereinabove, the following terms and conditions shall become effective…

    W ow.” Jen scanned the text, shook her head, and then read it again. “That is…”
    “I know.” Mara reached across Jen’s kitchen table for the bottle of Shiraz and topped off her glass again. “Why didn’t he just break out some brass knuckles and punch me in the face?”
    “Does this really mean what I think it means?” Jen squinted down at the tiny font.
    “Basically, it means I’m a filthy whore who needs to be threatened with legal retribution to make sure she keeps her legs closed.” Mara swilled her wine. “Mmm. This is pretty good stuff.”
    Jen rolled the wine cork between her thumb and index finger and chose her words carefully. “Let’s not overreact. I have excellent reading comprehension skills, and nowhere do I see the words ‘filthy whore.’”
    “Oh, it’s there,” Mara assured her. “Between the lines.”
    “Hmm.” Jen kept her expression neutral.
    “Don’t give me that prim little ‘hmm.’ Just come out and be scathing and judgmental. Why hold back? Go ahead, you can say it: Mara is a total slut.”
    “Aaand we’re cutting you off.” Jen made a grab for the wine bottle, but Mara clutched it to her chest.
    “Hands off my vino.” Mara abandoned her delicate stemmed glass and started swigging straight from the bottle. “Your friend Mara is a total slut
and
a drunk.”
    Jen rolled her eyes. “Why am I even trying to have a rational discussion with you right now?”
    “I’m drunk, not irrational. Don’t patronize me.”
    Jen had to admit that, even into her fourth serving of wine, Mara’s sensibilities were holding up quite well. Mara had always claimed that law firm happy hours were akin to frat parties with forty-year-old Scotch instead of kegs, and her tolerance was impressive.
    “If I drank as much as you have in the last hour, I’d be passed out under the table,” Jen marveled.
    “That’s because your poor liver is utterly defenseless. Too many smoothies and sunrise yoga sessions.” Mara paused to stifle a tiny belch with the back of her hand. “ ’Scuse me. Anyway, the man is clearly sick and depraved. He sprung this on me while we were shopping for
wedding