Free Conservative Affairs by Riley Scott Page B

decided to call it.
    Jo helped her from the passenger side of the vehicle, her hand steadying her. She was thankful for the support, even though she was overly aware of the tenderness of Jo’s touch. A strong, independent woman, Madeline rarely admitted, even to herself, that she needed help, but she was honestly not sure that she could have survived the events of the past day without Jo’s help.
    There was kindness and compassion in everything Jo did. Madeline had come to rely upon it, actually. If she were being honest with herself, she didn’t want to spend the night at a hotel. In fact, there was nothing she wanted less than to be utterly and completely alone. But it didn’t seem right to continue to hole up in Jo’s apartment, intruding on her privacy.
    Jo didn’t speak, didn’t push, as they went through the house, packing clothes and toiletries, and for that Madeline was thankful. Jo’s intuition was strong enough to sense when words weren’t necessary. It was a trait Madeline valued greatly.
    Madeline tried, as she and Jo went through the house, to remember the good times she and John had shared there, however long ago that might have been. Over and over, though, the truth came spewing forth like a gusher in the oil field, reminding her that life wasn’t fair. Not every story had a happy ending. A love that seemed good—great even—could fall apart in front of your eyes, leaving you with nothing but a packed suitcase and the memory of silent glances, separate bedrooms, looks that said, “I don’t love you anymore.” She and John had become roommates who hated each other. There was no more passion, not even kindness. Whatever spark of friendship they had once shared had burned out and grown cold.
    Madeline let out a long sigh. “That should do it for now,” she said. She heard a car door shut outside. “Dammit, let’s go.” They gathered her suitcase and cosmetics bag and went out the back door.
    Madeline couldn’t get over the fact that she was fleeing her own house. It was all so ridiculous, but she did not want to see John again, not under any circumstances.
    When they rounded the corner of the house, though, instead of seeing John’s car she saw three unfamiliar vehicles. She craned her neck to make out the faces of the people standing at her front door. As soon as she saw their cameras, she pulled back, prepared to run back into the house and hide out until they left. But she had stared a moment too long and was spotted.
    Apparently, reporters could move at the speed of light. Before she could get even a few steps away, they were at her side. One was snapping pictures, while another was thrusting a microphone in her face and signaling to her cameraman to start filming.
    “Mayor Stratton, did you know that your husband was having an affair?”
    Madeline stared at her, dumbfounded, recognizing the co-anchor of the evening news at KWWG, the largest station in the city. This story clearly was a much bigger one than she had hoped it would be.
    The reporter, an experienced interviewer, tried again. “Let me rephrase that. Do you know this woman?” She held up the picture of a gorgeous blond.
    Once again, Madeline didn’t speak, but the shock she felt was most likely evident on her face. She hoped they would interpret it as dismay at being confronted with the reality of her husband’s cheating, but yes, she knew the woman in the picture. All too well, unfortunately.
    “If you’re not staying here, where are you staying? In a hotel?”
    A reporter clutching a pen and pad chimed in. “Yes, which one? We’ve checked for you at each of them.”
    “You haven’t been seen out and about since we broke the story yesterday about your husband’s affair. Are you still fulfilling your duties as mayor? Do you plan to seek reelection next year?”
    Madeline had seen this trick many times, reporters firing so many questions at you at once that you felt compelled to answer at least one to shut them up.