My name is Kylee Strutt. I am 34 years old, a mother of two, and until three months ago, I believed the most exciting part of my week was finding a parking spot at Costco.
Then he started the engine and drove me back to my car. I know what you’re thinking. You think this story ends with a steamy affair or a secret phone number hidden in a coat pocket.
And then he drove away. I never saw him again. I don’t know his last name. I don’t know if "Jake" was even real. And I don’t care. I drove home that morning as the sun rose over my own suburban street. I walked into the quiet house, took a shower, and crawled into bed next to Mark’s pillow. When he came home that evening, he looked tired and distracted.
