Preacher's Wifey (9 page)

I looked at the clock, and it was just after seven. The traffic was mild and moving right along. Just as I was approaching International Boulevard, which was the exit I took to go to Legal Sea Foods, I changed my mind and decided that what I wanted was a piece of cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory. I took the Peachtree Street exit and headed that way.

I drove into the parking lot of the Cheesecake Factory, got my ticket from the valet, and went inside. I could hardly wait to order a glass of Moscato. Any relaxing methods available to me tonight would be taken full advantage of.

I gave the hostess my name and took a seat in front of the cheesecake display case. My mouth began to water as I took in all the delicacies. Looking at the various cheesecakes made me want to skip dinner and go right to dessert.

Finally, my name was called, and I was escorted to a table on the patio. I was relieved to be dining outside. Fresh air was good for anyone who was perplexed in any way about anything. The light, crisp air was refreshing as it kissed my face. The hostess sat me down at a table near the road, which was perfect because I always enjoyed people watching and had the ideal seat for it.

The server came and took my order, and before long I was feasting on my favorite dish—the Chicken Madeira. I was well aware that after I digested it, it was going to spread evenly between my thighs and my butt. Even knowing that, I took bite after bite until it was halfway gone. By the time I ordered dessert, my body was screaming and begging for me to stop. I had stretched my stomach to its limit, but there was nothing better than comfort food for the comfortless.

As I left the restaurant and got back in my car, the thought of going home to my problems rushed to my mind. The bliss I had felt while dining was now seeping away through the crack in my car window.

The last place I wanted to go was home.

The last place I was going to go was home.

I took a left on West Paces Ferry Road and drove into the driveway of my next destination.

“Good evening, ma'am. Will you be staying overnight with us?” the valet attendant asked.

“As a matter of fact, I will,” I replied.

“Enjoy your stay with us.”

“I plan to,” I said, passing him a twenty-dollar bill.

With no overnight bag and a newfound confidence to take a huge risk, I made my way to the hotel's elevator. Once it opened, I stepped inside and pushed the button for the twelfth floor.

Surprisingly, I was anything but nervous as the elevator went from floor to floor. Once it stopped, I got off and took the journey to the room.

His room.

Room number 1213
.

Watching him sign that check earlier at the bar had proven to be a good thing, I thought as I stood outside of Seth's door, knocking.

No answer.

I knocked again.

Just as I surmised that maybe he had gone out for the evening, and turned to walk away, he opened the door.

“Allyson?” He leaned his head out and peeked around the corner. “I cannot believe you came here. You're not worried if someone sees you? Wait a second. Are you okay?”

“I will be just fine if you let me come in.”

He moved out of the way, and with the two steps it took me to enter his room, I stepped into the land of no return.

The game was about to change.

It had already changed.

My eyes flung open.

The sound of my phone buzzing woke me from the most peaceful sleep I'd had in a long time.

I sat straight up in the bed, only to realize that I was in Seth's hotel room. I glanced at the digital clock sitting on the nightstand next to me and discovered it was well after three o'clock in the morning. I pushed my hair away from my face and picked up my phone.

Ten missed calls, three voice mails, and fifteen text messages. All of them were from Byran except two. They were from my mother.

I decided to read the text messages first.

 

Message #1:

Message #2:

Message #3:

The other messages were similar—more rants. He had some nerve to be making demands of me. He needed to concentrate on his other family and leave me alone. I was right where I wanted to be, just as he was. But knowing him the way I did, he would soon have people out looking for me. I sent back a simple message.

Byran, I am fine. Glad your baby is hanging on. Prayers are with you. . . .

I put the phone back on the nightstand and looked over at Seth's side of the bed. He was not there. My heart dropped. Had he left me here?

I pushed the covers back and got out of the bed. The bathroom light was off, so I knew he was not in there. I opened the door that led from the bedroom to the living room and found the same thing.... The lights were out.

I walked over to the lamp, but before I could turn it on, I could see Seth's silhouette in a chair next to the window. A hint of the moonlight was shining on just a corner of his face.

“Allyson, your phone has been going off all night,” he said.

“Yeah, it woke me up a few minutes ago,” I replied as I took a seat on the couch.

“Your husband?”

“Yes.”

“I'm sure he must be worried sick about you.”

“I sent him a text just now and told him I was fine.”

“So, Allyson, what's the deal? You were very vague when you got here. Don't get me wrong. I am glad you came, but I have been wondering what took place that led you here. It is obvious something happened, because you cried yourself to sleep. What did he do?”

I honestly did not know how to explain such a ridiculous situation to anyone outside of my mother. She understood my reasoning behind being with Byran, but no one else would. I also wasn't sure how much I could trust Seth with my innermost feelings and thoughts.

“Do we have to talk about this right now? It's almost four
A.M.
I just want to go back to bed.”

“You cannot run forever, darling. You have to face your feelings, your doubts, as well as your fears. It is only when you face them that you can begin healing.”

“Whatever you say, Dr. Phil,” I joked.

“Do you know why I did not sleep with you tonight, when you got here?”

I was hoping that we would not have to talk about that, either. I had felt rejection in a major way when he refused my advances.

“No, I don't. Why?”

“When I make love to you, Allyson, it will be because you want to, not because you are hurt. Seeing a woman cry does not make me feel good. Having sex with you tonight would have made me just like the men you are probably accustomed to. I am of a different breed. I could easily sex and cake you, but I'm not. You will be my woman when I do either. I respect you, and while I would love to do nothing more than lay you down on the very couch you are sitting on, kiss you, and remind you of places on your own body that you have probably forgotten existed or did not know existed, I can't.

“I am sure you have heard it said that good things come to those who wait. So after having thought of you all day long, I have decided to wait. Because what I do know is this. You will open your eyes one day and know your worth. And that will be the day you will become my lady.”

He must have sensed I had nothing to say to that. He continued. “Now, I need for you to tell me what is going on with you. If you are going to be running to me in the middle of the night, you can at least talk to me. Open up.”

“I am married to a pastor,” I began.

“There are worse things. Continue.”

“And the truth is, our marriage is really a scam. We got married for business reasons, and it seemed like the perfect thing to do at the time. He needed to get married quickly in order to qualify for the church he wanted, and the woman he wanted did not want him. I was not getting any younger and wanted to live a certain lifestyle that he could afford, so we jumped the broom. End of story.”

“And somewhere between then and now you started actually loving him, but the feelings were not mutual?”

“Couldn't have said it any better.”

“You cannot make a man love you, Allyson. That is one thing you must know about a man. We can live with you, have sex with you, and buy you the world, but our heart can be at another address.”

“Don't I know it,” I said solemnly.

“I get it. So your arguments have been about another woman—a woman he
is
in love with.”

“Are you some kind of psychic? How do you know these things?”

“A psychic? No. A man? Yes. And to be honest, most men think alike. However, not all men act alike.” He paused for a minute. “Nothing is going to change, darling. You will always be chasing after a man who will always be running from you. He probably loves you on a friendship level but nothing more.”

This man was Dr. Phil
and
a psychic in one body. He was dead on it.

“It gets worse. The woman had his baby tonight.”

Hearing myself say the words was like taking the knife out of my heart and plunging it back in—deeper this time.

“She had his what?” He sounded as much in disbelief as I actually was. “Wait a minute. Let me see if I understand you correctly. The woman—the other woman—that he is really in love with had his baby . . . tonight?'

“You have indeed comprehended well, sir. That is exactly what I said, and that is exactly what I meant.”

“Whoa. Who does this guy think he is? You were in my clinic about to get an abortion because he did not want the child he created with you because he already had got someone else pregnant?”

“You are right again.”

“Damn. That is the sickest thing I have ever heard in my life. Who does that? And you mean to tell me this is the man you love? Surely your feelings have to be strictly held in place by the motivation of money, because you cannot make me believe you would love a man who treats you like the dirt he walks on. You have to know . . . Please tell me that you know you are worth so much more than that.”

While his words were the truth and nothing but the truth, hearing them arranged in that way made me feel like the fool I was acting like. Why did I always play the fool?

“Can we go to sleep now? I just want to disappear from reality for a few hours before I have to face it again.”

“Come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Come here.”

I reluctantly got up and went to where he was sitting by the window. He pulled me down into his lap, leaned me over so my head would be on his shoulders, and wrapped his arms around me.

“Your heart is safe now. Go to sleep.”

This man was slowly breaking me down. I was a bipolar catastrophe, and he treated me as if it were perfectly normal. I was certain that one day the tears would not fall, but it would not be today or right now. They fell freely, without hesitation, all the way down the center of my breasts. They flowed until my heart felt some relief. They flowed until sleep overtook me.

A knock at the door, followed by the sound of the doorbell, startled me.

I gently shook Seth, who was still holding me.

“Seth,” I said softly, “someone is at the door.”

He opened his eyes, focused in on me, pulled me closer, and kissed me softly on the lips. “Now, let me get up and see who this is knocking at my door.”

I stole away to the bedroom. I looked at the clock on the nightstand and realized it was shortly after eight o'clock and I needed to get going. I went over to the side of the bed I had slept on before falling asleep in Seth's arms and sat down. I picked up my phone. Five missed calls from my mother. Three from Byran. A few text messages from friends. I cleared the notifications, got up, found my shoes, and went into the bathroom to wash my face.

“Allyson, where are you?” I heard Seth ask.

“I am in the bathroom. You don't mind if I shower, do you?”

He walked into the bathroom and slipped his arms around my waist. I looked at our image in the mirror. We would make a great-looking couple. He kissed me on my neck, and chills screeched down my spine and made their way around to the center of my womanhood. I stepped forward, away from his embrace. If he was determined not to make love to me, there was no reason I should catch on fire with desire and be consumed.

“What do you want for breakfast?” he asked.

“I really do have to get going. I need to—”

“Need to what?” he interrupted.

Truthfully, I had no idea what I was about to do, other than go home, change clothes, and do some retail therapy. I had considered going to the church to work on my first women's conference I was trying to organize. Byran had told me some of the ladies in the church had been asking him when I was going to become more active, so I had decided to begin planning something that would appease them. I had no clue how to do such things, but I figured I could not go wrong with incorporating things I loved, such as fashion, food, and money.

Seth did not wait for me to respond. “You can leave after breakfast.”

“Seth—”

He interrupted me again. “In the morning,” he said, “do you like pancakes, waffles? What?”

“Pancakes.”

“Bacon, sausage, eggs?”

“No eggs. Grits, bacon, and apple juice.”

“Got it. I am going to order this food, and then I'm going to make a run. I will be back in about an hour or so.”

“Since you have to leave, do you want to use the bathroom? Because I can step out.”

“This is a two-bedroom suite. I will just use the other room. I got an upgrade because when I got here to check in, they had allowed one too many late checkouts, and there were no rooms ready. So take your time.”

With that he disappeared on the other side of the door. I went and sat on the side of the oversize Jacuzzi tub. The bathroom itself gave me a relaxing feeling of euphoria. The soft shades of vanilla and caramel were soothing, and the granite and marble mix was elegant and first class. Whoever designed the bathrooms had women in mind. It was simply beautiful.

I got up and turned the water on in the shower. I let my dress hit the floor and stepped under the pulsating spray of hot water. The water felt good against my skin, and I closed my mind and imagined all my problems, pains, disappointments, and failures were being washed away down the drain. I allowed the water to nourish my body for several minutes before I decided to get out. If I stayed in much longer, my skin would begin wrinkling.

I stepped out, grabbed the towel, and dried off. I sat down in the chair that was placed at the vanity, and grabbed one of the complimentary lotions out of the basket that held the other complimentary things. I also reached for the remote and aimed it at the mirror. No matter how many times I had stayed at the St. Regis, the TV behind the mirror was still by far my most favorite amenity.

The TV was tuned to the Food Network, and the Neelys were cooking up one of their famous dishes. I loved watching those two. They were a husband-wife cooking team who believed the love they shared was the secret ingredient in all their dishes.

I smeared lotion over my arms, legs, stomach, and other places I could reach on my own. A thought came to me as I did that. It would be so nice to be in a relationship with a guy who would do simple stuff, like put lotion on my back. I stopped momentarily to ponder the thought.

The doorbell to the suite rang.

I pulled down one of the two robes that were hanging on the wall, slipped it on, and made my way to the door. I opened it when I saw through the peephole that breakfast had indeed arrived.

“Mrs. Carson, I am here with your breakfast,” the butler announced.

Mrs. Carson
. Had a nice ring to it.

“You can put everything on the dining table.”

As he placed the food on the table, I went and retrieved a ten-dollar bill from my purse. Once he had finished, I passed the money to him.

“Oh, no, ma'am. I cannot accept that. We have already been paid in full, and Mr. Carson has already taken care of the gratuity,” the butler said with a smile.

“Well, all right then. You have a great day.”

“You too, Mrs. Carson. Please call us if you should need anything else.”