Not counting the Sundays Special Agent Gattuso sneaked away from her to be with me, Tony’s domestic circumstances with pseudo-wife sometimes made it tough for he and I to interact as much on weekends -- at least during daylight hours.
I usually responded immediately when he was able to send me an email or text, but, for the most part, I reluctantly left him be when he was performing his role as her dutiful boyfriend and house servant.
I suffered withdrawals during these times, and, even if I didn’t entirely believe him about how awful it was, it semi-made me feel better to hear him grouse about his relationship and home life with her. The other part of me was pained that he was unhappy with their situation; however, I admit I tended to not be too sympathetic towards my State Policeman when it came to pseudo-wife, though I, of all people, know what it’s like to appear to outsiders as one half of “the perfect couple” when, in reality, things are hell and you have nobody really to talk to about it because you don’t want to shatter the erroneous paragon.
I handled the occasional weekend lapses like I thought any good mistress would: I completely doted on Tony when they were over.
