Preacher's Wifey Read Online Free Page A

Surely, I did not hear what I thought I just heard.
    I convinced myself it was all a joke, and laughed incredulously. He could be such a comedian at times. I dismissed his statement, got up, and walked inside. I could feel his stares boring holes into my back. I went into the kitchen, took a juice glass from the cupboard, reached into the cabinet that held the liquor, and poured myself a shot of Macallan Scotch. I turned up the glass and swallowed the Scotch before it could splash my throat.
    I poured another shot.
    And another one.
    By the time I was done, I had taken six shots.
    My stomach immediately became furious with its contents, and I had to rush to the bathroom. I gripped the porcelain throne and released the Scotch from my insides. I stayed there long after I had thrown up in hopes of regurgitating the pain, the disappointment, the hurt, and . . . the baby.
    â€œAre you okay?”
    Was he still here? Why in the hell was he still here?
    â€œAllyson?”
    Without saying anything, I found the strength to make my way to the sink. I grabbed a towel that was hanging from the brass rack, turned on the cold water, and wet my face. Maybe the coolness of the water would somehow freeze the tears that were falling again. The scent of Byran’s cologne, Gucci Guilty, filled my nostrils. Without even needing to turn around, I knew he had come into the bathroom.
    He grabbed me by the waist and held on to me. I knew I should push him away, but I didn’t have the strength to do it. It was then I accepted the truth—my truth—that somehow over the course of time I had fallen in love with this man. And even though he had just diced my heart like a ripe tomato, I had to fight for him.
    For us.
    For our child.
    He put his face in the crease of my neck, and I lifted my head to see our reflection in the mirror. We were the perfect-looking couple. Our public showcase was a hit among our friends, our family, and even the people at the church. All I needed to do was convince him that he loved me.
    He didn’t know it yet, but I was going to make him love me.
    I was going to make sure that before it was over, I became the real wife and not just the wifey.

Chapter Three
    My mother and I sat on the patio overlooking my Olympic-sized pool, and she listened as I recapped the events of the past weekend. She didn’t seem fazed at all that my anniversary trip had ended up being a nightmare from hell.
    â€œAllyson, you have to look at this more than one way,” she said as she sipped on merlot. “I know it hurt you to hear what he had to say, but the point is you are still his legal wife. It doesn’t matter who he is in love with. You are Mrs. Byran Ward. He chose to marry you. Whoever is also pregnant by him is the sidepiece. The sidepieces never mean anything.”
    â€œThat would be the case if he was or had ever been married to me for love. Technically, I am just a legal sidepiece. I have his last name. The other woman has his heart.”
    I stared into space as that reality settled into my brain. My husband was in love with another woman. And she was pregnant.
    â€œDo you know who she is?”
    â€œI have no idea. But I am certain she is beautiful. Probably successful.”
    â€œLet’s not speculate. We need to find out who she is.”
    â€œThat is my least concern right now.”
    â€œNo offense, but if you intend to keep your man, you need to know who the competition is and what she’s about.”
    â€œMy contract with him basically states that the only way he can divorce me is if I embarrass him, expose our arrangement, or commit infidelity. None of which I intend to do. So I’m not worrying about keeping him per se. Actually, the truth is, I never had him.”
    â€œSo you did not think to include that same clause for yourself? Because if this little secret comes out that he has another woman pregnant, it would most definitely embarrass you.”
    â€œMother, I