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Authors: Candice Dow

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“Devin, I don’t want to be second-best. I’m not that girl. I can’t stay here. I gotta go,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m
leaving you.”

“You can’t just quit on marriage.”

“You did before, so why wouldn’t you do it again?”

“Because I learned my lesson and I know marriage takes work.”

She pushed clothes down in her bag. “What if you found out that Clark left her husband? What would you do?”

I took a deep breath, wishing I could plead the Fifth. When I lifted my head to speak, she looked disappointed and said, “Exactly
what I thought.”

I wanted to tell her she was wrong. I wanted to console her, but all I could think about was all the plans Clark and I had
made in Nicaragua, and how we both had settled for the next best thing. It was for a good reason, but, nonetheless, neither
of us could have what we really wanted. I stood there, feeling like a damn failure.

She tied the bag and bumped me as she passed. “I’ll be staying with Courtney.”

I walked behind her. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Are you sure you
don’t
want me to do this?”

“Yes.”

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and looked me in the eye. “No, you’re not.”

My wife piled her bags in her car and pulled off. I stood in the garage, embarrassed and downright tired. As I walked into
the house, the melody to Babyface’s “What If” played in my head. I poured a glass of Crown Royal Reserve and the words of
the song got louder:
What if we were wrong about each other? What if you were really made for me?

43

DEVIN

C
urtis nearly flipped when I told him that Taylor had walked out. He frowned. “Man, tell her she’s gotta come home. We need
her by your side.”

I shrugged. “Man, what am I going to do? Force her to stay?”

“Do
something
, man. Why are you so nonchalant about this?”

“Man, let’s just focus on what we got to focus on.”

“Fool, do you realize that the majority of your vote are church folk, and her father has an influence on all the churches
in the damn district?”

“So you think if she stays with me, they’ll vote for me?”

“Your wife can make you or break you.”

It had been nearly twenty-four hours since I spoke to Taylor. The one thing I knew for sure was that when her mind was made
up, there was no changing. Curtis urged me to remove emotion from this matter and focus on the image. He basically said, “Who
gives a shit if you’re in love with the other woman? For the sake of this campaign, you are the doting husband that made a
damn mistake.”

I listened intently to his advice and I partially agreed. Curtis may have been short with me, but he was relentless. Damn
if my emotions would sabotage his plans. After I didn’t respond to some of his advice, he snapped, “Don’t act like a bitch,
Devin. Handle your business. Go get your damn wife back.”

I wondered if Curtis had to ever go get anyone back after they’d been publicly disgraced. This shit was no trivial task, but
clearly something had to be done. Otherwise, I would have wasted everyone’s time and effort, and my parents’ money.

When I left the campaign office, I went to Taylor’s father’s church. It was the middle of the day and he was usually there.
When I pulled up and saw his Cadillac outside, I suddenly got cold feet. Pastor Jabowski did not marry divorced people, but
because it was Taylor, he had performed our ceremony. Initially, he refused, but his wife made him do it. She told him that
his daughter had to be an exception to the rule. Before we got married, he asked me over and over was I sure about this, was
I sure about Taylor? And I promised this 350-pound man that I would take care of his daughter until death. He was the only
person Taylor listened to, and if I was going to make this right, I had to go through him.

I knocked on the door of the executive offices and, surprisingly, Pastor Jabowski answered. My heart dropped. I half-smiled
at the wide, dark-skinned man standing stoically in front of me before reaching out to shake his hand. He gripped my hand
tighter than usual, like he wanted to crush my fingers. “Devin,” he greeted me.

“Bishop.”

He turned to walk toward his office and I followed. He said, “I was wondering if you’d come talk to me.”

“Yeah, I didn’t know where else to turn.”

He held the door to his office open and I walked in to sit down. After he sat in his office chair, he removed his glasses
and wiped the invisible sweat from his wide nose. His expression lacked compassion, but could I really blame him? I’d hurt
his daughter. Still, he was a man and I had to appeal to his manhood. He stroked his mixed-gray goatee impatiently.

“How many times did I ask you were you ready to marry my daughter?”

“A lot.”

“Why do you think I asked you so many times?”

“You just wanted to be sure.”

He chuckled. “Is that what you really think?”

“I don’t know. I guess.”

“Actually, this marriage never sat right with my spirit. My wife swore you were the one she prayed for, but I didn’t think
so. God has never lied to me, because I know His voice. You know, women can guide you in the wrong direction, in a different
direction than you heard your Father tell you to go.”

“Bishop, listen. I made a mistake, and you know for yourself Taylor and I got counseling after that affair. I knew that cheating
wasn’t the answer and I wanted to make it right. I’m still human.”

“That’s a cop-out, Devin. I don’t entertain folly. Being human means you have a conscience and you have reason. You know when
you’re doing wrong. There is no logical excuse to go lay up with another woman. You seek counseling before you resort to that,
and men of the world resort to that alternative. Weak men seek that alternative. Men who don’t have the words to express their
needs and desires to their wives resort to that. Which man are you?”

I smirked, because I didn’t identify with any of the above.

“Tell me. Which one are you? Weak, worldly, or wordless?”

Man, this appeared to be going nowhere. I readjusted in my seat and mumbled, “I guess worldly.”

He nodded, as if he agreed. “So what do you want from me, worldly man? Are you seeking religious counsel, or do you just want
me to tell you, ‘I understand, people make mistakes’?”

“Actually I was hoping that you and Mrs. Jabowski would talk to Taylor about working it out.”

“And why would I tell my daughter a silly thing like that?” He laughed.

“Because I am her husband.”

He rested back in his large executive chair, and springs that had been pushed to the limit screeched. “Really?” he said sarcastically.
“Well, Devin, nothing in the Bible is new. And the answers are all in here. Women are instructed to stay with their husbands
no matter what.”

“I know, and I—”

He interjected, “But the one thing she is allowed to divorce for is adultery. Don’t you think what you did was adultery?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And ironically, I don’t think you’re a worldly man. I think you’re a wordless man. You speak so eloquently on the political
scene. You even have me convinced. You can communicate on concrete topics, but emotions are too intangible for you. You can’t
measure, divide, or define them, and you struggle with that. Until you get that right, you’ll be skipping from one marriage
to another.”

I hated to think that I was that person. I’d always been able to express myself. This was about regret and less about communication.
But how could I tell him how much I loved this other woman?

“Bishop, I’m telling you, I love Taylor and we were having problems and I took the wrong approach. And no, I didn’t get counseling
beforehand and I should have. Unfortunately, I didn’t. I know better now, and since we had counseling our marriage was better
until this came up. You know?”

“Look, I advised Taylor not to marry you. Number one, you didn’t come through me first. Number two, like I told you, I didn’t
feel it. Still don’t, but Taylor has always done it her way. Since I never blessed the marriage from the beginning, I don’t
think it’s my place to get it right. It’s yours. I’m sure you know where to find her over in North East.”

I appreciated his little bit of help. He was trying to let me know she was with Courtney, though I already knew that. When
I stood up to shake his hand, he stood, too.

“Thanks for your help, Bishop Jabowski.”

“I’ll pray about this and see how God leads my spirit.” He walked around the desk and opened the door. “I let my Father tell
me what I should and shouldn’t do. So you never know, He may tell me I’m trippin’.”

I nodded irritably, because I wasn’t going to get anxious about the possibility only to be disappointed. He patted my back.
“All right, Mr. Congressman.”

With a smile, I said, “Yeah, thanks a lot.”

When I left the church, I considered heading to Courtney’s house. Instead, I headed home. Taylor would call when she was ready.
I decided I should stop harassing her. It wasn’t getting me anywhere. I was out of get-her-back tricks. This shit was for
the birds. One thing I did agree with Bishop Jabowski about was that cheating was for weak men. Damn if I have the energy
to convince a woman to take me back.

Seven hours later, I sat in the family room, letting the television entertain me, eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich,
flipping through my iPod, blasting all the old-school songs that reminded me of Clark through the speakers. Sisqó’s song,
“Incomplete.” His voice elevated, and I felt emotional as he yelled, “Without ya, girl. Without ya, girl.”

When the song ended, I heard Taylor’s footsteps. “Devin, you’re pitiful.”

I looked up to see her standing poised and unemotional in the kitchen. She didn’t look like she had lost any sleep. In fact,
she appeared relieved. God was on my side and had advised Bishop Jabowski to talk to her.

I stood up and walked toward her. “Thank you for coming here, Taylor.”

“I don’t know why you’re thanking me. I came to get the rest of my stuff.”

I reached out for her arm and she pulled away. As she backed up, I took several steps toward her. “Taylor, listen. You didn’t
have to move all of your things out of this house. You can stay here. I’ll move.”

“Why would I want to stay here? Why? I don’t need this big house just for me. This is your house. I don’t want any part of
it, any part of the lie.”

“I never lied to you.”

She smirked. “You’re absolutely right. You never lied. I lied to myself. You told me what you were, who you loved, and I told
myself that being with me would help you get over her.”

“So what are we going to do?”

“‘We’ are no longer an item. I want out.”

We now stood on opposing sides of the kitchen island, debating our cases. “Are you sure?” I asked.

“I’m positive.”

“So after one mistake, it’s just over.”

“Baby, it’s not one mistake. You don’t get it, do you? You have a problem with me. You’re always complaining that I don’t
show you enough attention. I don’t help you. I don’t rub your back when you get home. And I’m trying my best and still you
cheat. Maybe I’m not what you need. Maybe she is.”

“Taylor—”

“And maybe you’re not what I need. I’m tired of thinking. I’m tired of trying. You’ve cheated on me, all of this, in the first
year of marriage. I will not sit around for years and let you destroy my self-esteem to the point I just accept this kind
of shit.”

My shoulders sagged, and she continued, “I won’t do it. I just won’t do it. If I’m not what you need, let me get back on the
market while I’m still young enough to snag something else or before you get me knocked up.”

“It’s that easy for you?”

“Wasn’t it easy for you to be all up in Clark’s face? It’s just that easy for me to walk out.”

“Taylor, I need you.”

She shifted her weight and rolled her eyes. After taking several deep breaths, she said, “Do you need me because you love
me, or do you need me for your campaign to front as if I care?”

I looked at her. I considered lying, but at the risk of being smacked, I said, “I love you, I do. But I’ll be very honest,
I don’t know about the future of our marriage. We have a lot of structural problems. I mean, anytime you marry someone as
fast as we got married, you’ll have those problems, and it takes a lot of hard work to make it right. I just don’t know, but
right now a divorce would not look good. I’ll lose this race if you leave me.”

“You know, Courtney and I have gone back and forth about this. She actually told me I should support.”

“She did?”

“When I look at you, Devin, I see myself a few years ago. I know how it is, wanting someone that you hurt to forgive you.
You just want one more chance with them to make it right. I know how strong that desire can be. You end up abandoning all
your morals just to correct one mistake. It hurts to be the girl on the other side of the game, and I hate—I mean, I despise
the way you made me feel. But at the same time, I understand everything you’re feeling. And that’s why I can’t take you back.
I know where your heart is, and I know that I’m worth more than second place.”

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