Fated Dinner Part 1:

Chapter 8

Chapter 2:

Andrew fought to repress a yawn as the morning sermon reached the hour mark, and he dully noted there was still a half hour to go. The pastor had been going on about what he called "The Power of I Am."

As if Andrew needed any help with that. He already knew who he was, one of the singularly most powerful business men in the country. To be honest, Andrew could barely stomach the pastor. Something about his face and voice just put him off. Still, he figured it was worth spending some time with the man if it meant banking a little good will for a possible afterlife. After all, it was good business. Give a small bit of your weekend and a tax deductible donation for a spot in heaven. Who wouldn't do that?

He was a good Christian too, never missed a week, never spoke against the pastor, regardless of his thoughts. Always gave generously. If heaven was out there, why shouldn't he be allowed in?

"So you can see," the Pastor's voice said through the sound system. "The power of I am changes your whole life. I am strong, I am blessed, I am healthy. Or, I am slow, I am unattractive, I am a terrible mother."

Repressing a snort, it occurred to Andrew how alike the pastor sounded to a lot of the supposedly "New Age" speakers. The reality was that it was all the same stuff, so why pretend it mattered which particular branch you studied? But he didn't say that, merely looked down at the unused bible app on his phone.

"Whatever follows the 'I Am' will always come looking for you," the pastor continued. "When you say I am clumsy, the clumsiness will come looking for you. When you say I am blessed, I am talented, blessings and talent come looking for you."

Andrew nodded his head in slight agreement with that. He knew he was rich, and he was powerful, and riches and power came to him. He didn't need to seek more of these things, because they came to him, because he was, and would be. The pastor smiled, straightening his tie and Andrew couldn't help but compare it to so many of the business meetings he'd been in. Honestly there was so little difference between the two.

Their pastor was a great negotiator. Of course, he'd have to be in order to amass such a large following. He had a ever-present smile that was almost cheesy, and thick, curly, black hair that reached his neck in the back. He also showed off the wealth God had blessed him with. Everything from his tailored suits to his 10 million dollar home put him in a powerful position.

He had a chiseled perfect face, which he credited his positive "I Am" message with, but Andrew doubted it. More likely he'd had a fair amount of plastic surgery, but if his goal was to sell a connection to the heavens, he was the picture perfect salesman.

Fifty minutes later, Andrew was pulling his car into the heated garage. Winter hadn't really set on in full force yet, but he was relieved to not have to go out in a freezing concrete box every time they left and returned to the house. He opened the entrance door leading into the kitchen, and was greeted by their small Jack-Russell terrier, Francis.

The small dog yipped excitedly as it danced around his heels. He smiled down at the little furball and pulled a small milkbone treat from it pouch on the counter and bent down to the dog.

"Roll over," Andrew said softly to it.

Francis obediently lowered himself to the floor and twisted until he managed to roll himself over before he immediately bounced back up, eager for the treat.

"Good boy!" Andrew said holding the treat out for him.

Francis sniffed it insistently, his tiny nose quivering before snatching the milkbone and running into the living room to eat his prize. Andrew smiled softly, deciding he could live 1000 years and never tired of that dog's behavior.

After a second, he went to the coatrack and removed his Armani sports coat. He dully noted a spot of water that had began to stain the left sleeve. He sighed. It was a 900-dollar coat and it couldn't even handle a little bit of water. What a waste.

Andrew shook the thought and loosened the tie around his neck, feeling it press uncomfortably into his neck. Had he gained weight recently? He supposed that he very well could've. After all, he'd been more lax than usual lately. He'd have to check on his gym membership.

He hadn't been there for a few months. He was a creature of cycles and knew he could pick up the gym more than long enough to take off the extra weight and then he'd likely leave it alone for a time.

Then, it was time for the family to go to their own areas of the house until dinner. He would go the study and work until the late evening. William would go to his room and flip between watching youtube videos and attempting to complete his homework for several hours. Lisa would… he paused. He actually had no idea what in the world his wife did with her day, at least when she was having "lessons" with one of her instructors.

He shrugged the thought off. After all, what did it really matter what she was doing? Or who for that matter?

He put her out of his head and continued with his perfectly normal Sunday routine until 11 P.M. that evening. He had undressed and was lying down in the bed when his wife sighed.

He knew that sigh. He hated that sigh. He had, even when they were dating. That sigh meant they had to have "a talk," and a talk could be anywhere from 'Why do you leave the toilet seat up at night?' to 'Why don't you love our son?' The only constant was that it was always a pain in the ass to talk about, and of course, she always wanted to talk about it.

"What is it?" he asked, more curtly than he'd meant to.

"Do you even care about me anymore?" she asked.

Great, he thought, annoyed. This talk again.

"Where's this coming from?" he asked. "You are my wife, the mother of my child and my partner in life. Of course I love you."

She shook her head.

"You don't though, not anymore. Maybe you never did. Your office if your partner and you love it more completely than anyone or anything else."

He looked at her, unsure of how to respond.

"Lisa…"

"Tell me I'm wrong! Deny it! Say you love me! Look me in the eyes and tell me you honestly love me, even a bit."

He looked at his wife, look right in her keep blue eyes and had no words for her, because at the end of it all, she was right. He was tired of it, of all of it. He was tired of coming home and smelling the s*x of another man on her, and he was tired of seeing the hate in her eyes, he was tired of feeling like a bastard for living. He was tired of thinking that if it wasn't for William, they would've separated years ago.

"I…"

"You can't say it, can you? You can't!"

"No," he said dully.

"I'm leaving in the morning."

Out of reaction, he opened his mouth to protest, but something stopped him. It was that secretly, in his soul, he knew that this was exactly everything he'd wanted. She wasn't going to gouge him dry in a courtroom or make him out to be a beast. She just wanted to leave and he wanted her gone, and he hated himself for that.