Sienna and Declan are young high-profile NYC executives with an opaque marriage. Neither closed nor open, their mutual arrangement has been left to a laissez-faire interpretation. The rules are simple: never bring a lover to their home, and never fall in love with their affairs. Sienna feels trapped by the own rules she agreed to with Declan when she realizes shes fallen in love with her best friend from college.
What follows is an affair of the heart and mind, their permitted sexual lifestyle against the unsanctioned emotional infidelity. Sienna must choose between emotional stability and marital security versus passion and excitement. Through an Opaque Window takes a solid view through the open windows of marital life, looking at what happens when we leave our lives ajar.
Through an Opaque Window by Kelly Ann Gonzales, (Xlibris; Jan 19, 2018; 184 pages; 9781543475913).
“Can we really have it all?” This is the question this emotional novel examines between the blurred points of exclusive and open marriages, exploring the trials of both romantic love and friendship love.
Sienna and Declan are young, high profile NYC executives with an opaque marriage. Neither closed nor open, their mutual arrangement has been left to a laissez-faire interpretation until Sienna realizes she has fallen in love with her best friend from college. What follows is an affair of the heart and mind, their permitted sexual lifestyle against the unsanctioned emotional infidelity. Sienna must choose between emotional stability and marital security versus passion and excitement. Through an Opaque Window takes a solid view through the open windows of marital life, looking at what happens when we leave our lives ajar.
About the Author
Kelly Ann Gonzales was born in the Philippines, raised in New Jersey and currently lives in New York City. She works in the hotel industry. She is also the editor-in- chief of ALPHA FEMALE SOCIETY. She is an insatiable passion for travel, hospitality and all things written and to be read.
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TAKE YOUR FACE OFF
I remember what our marriage was like before the affairs. People had always said that the first year of marriage would be difficult, and it was difficult. But most people just left it at that and said that we’d get through it just like every other mildly content, successful couple. We’d fight and make up. The cycle would continue over and over again. It was all very normal.
By the second year, we weren’t even fighting so much as just avoiding each other. That’s when he’d start toiling through the seventy-hour work weeks. I’d find excuses to grab drinks with girlfriends after work. On weekends I’d book solo trips to remote resorts in upstate New York. I thought if I devoted attention to myself that it would fill in the inescapable voids of my marriage. Happiness was a skill, right? And skills can be taught, refined, and practiced until one became a master at it.
One Saturday in the summer, instead of joining my girlfriends in the Hamptons, I wandered Manhattan. They were having the summer street festivals. I sauntered up and down Broadway, looking for food to eat and little tchotchkes to catch my eye. Two ladies sat smoking cigarettes in a silvery covered tent.
Their full palm readings were normally twenty bucks, but she liked my outfit so she only charged me five. I would have spent $20 on a cocktail at a lounge in Columbus Circle, so I figured I had little to lose.
I laid my palms out flat on Sister Maggie’s lap. She’s channeled the goddess Isolt to give me clarity on my love life. Maggie is eyeing the amethyst necklace dangling above my cleavage.
“Darling, your third eye is spinning. Where did you get that amethyst?”
I point to a tent down the block. “I saw it and bought it a few minutes ago. It spoke to me.”
She is nodding. “Listen to me. Your husband is your soul mate. Do not divorce him. You two are meant to be. What does Switzerland mean to you?”
“I studied abroad there when I was in college.”
“Soon you will return. Enjoy it. It will be for pleasure, not work, but you will be working on your personal life there.”
It all seemed too decidedly arbitrary. Threads of my life somehow sewn together when all she asked about me were my first name and month and day of birth. I left skeptical but couldn’t help looking behind me as I walked away