The Side Chick

Chapter 1

The door clicked behind Andre with a satisfying snap as he walked into his home.
Sprinting on tiny feet, his son leapt into his arms. Andre scooped him up, body sore from too much time spent in meetings and Zoom calls, but tension easing out of him by the second.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, as he swooshed the boy around the room and deposited him on the couch.

“He’s going to get dizzy and not be able to eat dinner, you keep doing that,” admonished Imani. His wife of eight years, only recently switched to part-time from her position at a lobbying firm in the city, had been reveling in her far more flexible lifestyle. Andre had never thought she was anything less than radiant, even when she was working eighty hour weeks, but the extra time for Pilates and a healthier lifestyle had left her looking happier and more relaxed then she’d been in ages. And while he had never expected it of her, she was enthused to be able to spend more time with their son- and their daughter, due in only a couple of months. He swept across the room to kiss her.

“So, stranger, am I going to be seeing more of you? Or are you sweeping back into the district after dinner?”

“No. The merger is done,” Andre smiled with a satisfied, if exhausted, look on his face. “I might not even go in at all next week. I would like to spend some time out back, though.”

Imani looked slightly annoyed about this- but didn’t say anything. They had built an incredible life together. While she didn’t adore her husband’s ‘project,’ they’d worked it out as a couple years ago. He was an attentive father, a loving husband, and an amazing partner. Imani had never been anything but proud of her husband, and could forgive him his one indulgence. As time passed, she’d even sampled the project a couple of times herself.

Andre spent most of his evening in cozy domesticity. He enjoyed his wife’s impressive attempt at a classic she-crab soup. He read to his son and tucked him in. He and his wife watched one of the more forgettable new Marvel movies. Imani was feeling a little too cramped for sex, but he massaged her feet and they chatted while she got ready for bed.

At ten pm he walked to the attached garage of his home, and unloaded groceries from a walk-in, restaurant style refrigerator. He had played football in college, and even now, as a partner at his firm, he had never neglected his physical health. Even still, the sheer amount of food was too much for him to carry; he loaded up a cart with victuals, packages, and bags. Pulling the cart behind him, he strode purposefully across the yard of his Silver Springs home, where they had moved to when they had enough money to buy a place and escape renting in DC.

And it had come with the guest house on the property. That had been a deciding factor.

He didn’t bother to knock, of course. It was his property. As was its inhabitant. He strode into the home, pulling the cart behind him.