Chapter 2: Double Lives

From then on, I lost myself completely. Any chance I got, I’d find a way to see Madison.

I made up reasons to work late, ducked out on lunches, and snuck texts in between meetings. It became a twisted game—how much could I get away with before someone noticed? Or before Madison got bored?

If there wasn’t a natural opportunity, I’d invent one. Suddenly I had urgent errands across town, just blocks from her apartment in Logan Square. I’d park outside, the dashboard clock blinking 9:45 PM, my heart racing like a teenager sneaking out after curfew.

Because Madison was magnetic in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

She had this streak of rebellion, a sarcastic wit that cut through my stress, and a way of making everything feel simpler than it should. She’d roll her eyes at my dad jokes, call me out when I was full of it, and laugh at the things I thought I’d forgotten how to enjoy.

She didn’t care that I was married.

She never mentioned Emily, never seemed jealous. To her, I was just Mike Parker—no strings, no expectations. For some reason, that felt like breathing again.

The things Emily hesitated over, Madison would dive into without a second thought.

She was fearless in bed, never shy or uncertain. If I brought up something new, she’d just grin and challenge me to go further. The contrast with Emily—so careful, so cautious—made Madison impossible to ignore. She never asked me to hold back or pretend to be someone I wasn’t.

But it wasn’t just the sex—I genuinely liked who she was.

She was sharp, ambitious, never playing the victim or asking for sympathy. Her sarcasm could make me laugh even on the worst days. Sometimes just seeing her name light up my phone made the whole workday easier to stomach.

After the third time we were together, she laid it all out for me.

She sprawled across her tiny couch, hair a mess, not bothering to sugarcoat anything. “You’re the boss, Mike. I know how things work. I’m not naive.”

She told me there were two reasons she’d gone after me: first, I was her department manager, controlling her hours, reviews, and bonuses. Second, she’d heard from coworkers that I wasn’t just any manager—I was connected to the CEO, maybe even family, and she figured getting close to me might open doors.

She watched me, waiting to see if I’d flinch.

Honestly, it was a strange kind of compliment. Here was a woman who saw me as an opportunity, not a fantasy. At least with Madison, there were no illusions.

It made sense: I was thirty-two, starting to put on weight, my hair thinning, and the only time anyone flirted with me was at the Trader Joe’s checkout when the teenage cashier smiled out of habit.

If a woman in her twenties suddenly said, “I just like you for you”—I’d have to be kidding myself to believe it.

So Madison’s honesty gave me a weird sense of comfort.

At least I knew where I stood. No guessing, no late-night drama. I trusted her bluntness more than any sweet talk.

A woman this clear-eyed wasn’t looking to blow up my marriage or claim Emily’s place.

That meant as long as I played it smart, Emily would never know.

I figured I could juggle both lives. What could possibly go wrong?

But the satisfaction didn’t last. After a while, the guilt and emptiness crept in—an ache that no amount of sneaking around could fix. The thrill faded, but the loneliness stayed.