Mary-Ann was a classical musician. She had an Irish complexion with dimples in her cheeks, and mousy brown hair that she pushed back with a plastic headband when she played the cello. Her voice was soft and slow, giving the impression that each sentence was carefully crafted to endear itself in just the right way to its listener.

Dan was introduced to her in his fourth year at Cornell by a friend of his in the orchestra. She began to socialize with them, until one day, for some reason, it was just him and Mary-Ann. He asked her to meet again for dinner that weekend, and eventually, it just became clear that they were dating.

Mary-Ann was bright, optimistic, and fun to be around. Dan was happy with her. They graduated together, since she was a year behind him and he had continued on for a Master's degree. She supported his political career when he got his first post-college job in Albany, and auditioned for the Columbus Symphony so that she could move to Ohio with him when he got the job on Judith Hayes' campaign. She wasn't chosen in the first season she went out for and, having missed auditions for other nearby ensembles, had to find work as a music teacher. That was a tough year, with Mary-Ann needing validation, but not willing to say so. They had been dating for just about four years then, and rarely fought. Dan would instigate the only fights they ever did have, usually unreasonably and over something trivial – she was standing too close to him; she was calling him at work to see what he wanted for dinner when he was busy; why did he have to repeat the thing he'd already shouted across the apartment at her twice now?

Mary-Ann's second audition for the Symphony was successful, and after a celebratory dinner, Dan had surprised her with a proposal in the park. He did love her – of course he did. She was supportive and kind, and he liked making her laugh. Those fights were nothing – spats that all couples with work stress have. Besides, he was on a high himself with Judith having just won the election. What better thing to do, he thought, then solidify his perfect career by starting a perfect family?

But the second Dan had laid eyes on Amy, he had struck the match that could burn all of that to the ground. The flame was closing in on his fingertips and he had to decide what to do.

.

.

In retrospect, it had all been planned poorly. Dan had to be in D.C. most weekdays, when Mary-Ann had rehearsals, and she often had performances on the weekends he could get back to Columbus. As a result, they didn't see much of each other, and hadn't decided if or how to make a permanent home in D.C. Dan had planned to get a handle on how things would go after the swearing-in, now just over three weeks away. For the meantime though, that meant that Dan was largely alone.

At first he had been wracked with guilt. He'd sat up in Amy's bed, brown eyes wide, sweat glistening on his chest from a mixture of blissful exertion and mounting panic. He was staring dumbfounded at the condom hanging slightly from the tip of his softening penis when Amy emerged naked from the bathroom.

"I need to see you again," he blurted out, "but I'm engaged."

Amy froze and her eyes seared into him. He became aware that these two statements seemed very contradictory, and he wasn't sure what he had hoped to accomplish.

"I'm so sorry, but I thought you deserved to know. I don't know what happened, I just – "

"Who is she?" Amy interrupted.

Dan blinked. "What?"

"Is it someone in D.C.?"

"Oh. No, it's, uh, my college girlfriend. Fiancée. Or yeah, I guess, girlfriend when we were in college." Dan stopped and swallowed, trying to stop stumbling over his words. "She's a cellist. In Ohio."

Amy's eyebrows relaxed. "Well, then… I don't care if you don't."

Dan looked at her, his mouth hanging slightly open. The chaotic menagerie of thoughts in his head had paralyzed him, and he barely noticed Amy pulling back the covers until she cleared her throat.

"That doesn't mean you get to sleep here."

.

.

After a restless night's sleep that he couldn't blame entirely on his hotel mattress, Dan gave up and stumbled to the bathroom. It was Friday morning now and he would be in D.C. for the next week, working on conveying the right image of the congresswoman-elect through the decoration of her office and pied-à-terre, her website bio, and professional photos. It wasn't exactly what Dan wanted or ought to be doing, but Mrs. Hayes had a small staff and all of this would pay off eventually. Mary-Ann was booked full with performances this weekend, so he hadn't planned to fly back to Columbus, but every time he tossed and turned, Dan changed his mind about whether he needed to see Mary-Ann immediately or completely avoid her until he'd figured things out.

Dan peed, his head leaning against the towel bar over the toilet. Moving to the sink, he rinsed his hands and rubbed some cold water on his face. Finally, shamefully, he met the eyes of his reflection. It was him, but he was different. There was a shadow under his eyes and small pink scratches were visible on his torso. He felt dark and heavy, used and conquered.

What was it exactly that he needed to figure out? He pictured, not for the first time that night, Amy throwing her head back as she came, her body shuddering with the involuntary groan of pleasure escaping her lips. The reflection of his tightening boxers reminded him this was precisely what he needed to figure out. Surely he couldn't be in love with a woman he had just met. He was confusing sex with love, obviously. So what if it was quite definitely the best sex he'd ever had? That wasn't real – he and Mary-Ann were real. There's nothing wrong with being content and comfortable with someone who supports and cares for you.

But if Dan was being honest… he'd thought about Amy more in the past day than he'd thought about Mary-Ann in the past week. Maybe month. His proposal the month before had felt like more of a logical inevitability than a defining moment.

But that's bound to happen – we've been together for almost five years! Dan scoffed. Amy is just new and unknown. I'll get over it, he thought, staring resolutely at his reflection.

.

On Sunday, he watched his reflection cum in her mouth while he was handcuffed to the shower curtain rod.