Lower than Lowe

Lower than Lowe CH1

I knew it at soon as it was I saw him with her.

This was Mistress.

I peered out the window of my favorite coffee shop, Roast, at my husband.

“What an idiot.” I thought, knowing that Bryson was well aware of the fact that I stopped to get my favorite blonde roast coffee every morning at Roast before I headed to work.

I watched as Bryson led the woman into the dainty lunch café across the street, sitting at a table near the front window.

“Really? Do you honestly think I am blind?” I muttered, taking a sip of my coffee.

“Miss?” I heard from behind me.

I turned my head towards the source of the interruption, a tall, handsome man wearing a worn leather jacket and a black knitted tuque.

His honey blonde hair flowed out slightly from the cap, tied in a small bun at the nape of his neck.

“You look like Jackson from Sons of Anarchy.” I stated, looking the man up and down openly.

The man smirked, looking down at himself as well.

“So I’ve heard.” He said, his voice rough and husky, yet sultry at the same time.

I shivered slightly. I always had a weak spot for badass men with long-ish hair.

I looked back out the window at my husband, a picture of a sharp businessman. Nothing like the man standing in front of me.

The man cleared his throat, and tried to inch past me.

“Oh, that’s why you were talking to me. I’m in the way.” I said, embarrassed.

As soon as I had seen my husband with Mistress, I had frozen in my tracks to watch him. Right in front of the exit door.

“It’s alright. You seem pretty distracted.” The man observed, standing beside me for a second.

“You don’t even want to know.” I grumbled, taking another sip of my coffee.

The man chuckled deeply, opening the door.

A cold gust of February wind slapped me in the face, tiny ice shards cutting at my delicate skin.

“Have a nice day, miss.” The man said, looking back at me with a smile.

“Fat chance.” I thought, but gave the man a small smile in return.

I bundled up a little bit tighter, zipping my black Canada Goose jacket up to my neck, wrapping my white cashmere scarf a little bit tighter around my neck, and pulling my white knitted cap over my ears a little more snugly.

I opened the exit door, shuffling through the fluffy snow towards my black SUV.

Hopping in the car, I stomped the extra snow off of my beige Ugg boots, and cranked up the moniter for the heated seats.

I pulled away from the sidewalk, driving towards my work in the outskirts of Manhatten.

I opened the front door to ‘Red Velvet, Downward Dog and Black Tie Events’ (known around Manhatten as ‘Red’s’).

Myself and my two best friends had all had this grand idea in college of collaborating our businesses together.

Me, being an event planner, owned Black Tie Events.

Eleanor, (also known as Nora) being a baker, owned Red Velvet--a cupcake bakery.

And finally, Jenvieve (also known as Jen) was a yoga instructor, and therefore owned Downward Dog-- a yoga studio.