The Convenient Wife (A BWWM Steamy Marriage of Convenience Romance) (16 page)

I tipped the crystal decanter
against my lips, tasting the strong mixture of several different aged rums
hitting my taste buds at once.

“Dorian, are you even listening to
me?” Ollie said as I slumped down against the cabinet. The big decanter fell,
spilling tens of thousands of dollars’ worth of irreplaceable liquid across the
floor.

“Hey man. Say something. I’m coming
over right now,” Ollie continued. His words had meaning, but I couldn’t quite
grasp the substance. My vision drew into a tunnel, and the last thing I saw was
my security camera’s little red light blinking from its perch on my ceiling.

At
least I’ll be able to re-live the moment
…
I thought to myself as the darkness took me.

Summer Harbor Care Center was more
beautiful than any of the pictures on its website. The floors were made to look
like hardwood, giving it an almost homey feeling compared to the typical,
sterile linoleum tiles you saw in places like this. The walls were all freshly
painted and every surface was absolutely spotless.

Every staff member, from the nurses
to the janitors, all had smiles on their faces and gave at the very least a
polite nod whenever we walked by. The more I saw, the more I liked it, and with
the money I’d gotten from Mrs. Lambert, I could keep Dad here until he got
himself straightened out again.

“Well, Dad?” I asked him. “What do
you think?”

My father let out grunt in response,
looking around at the large common area we’d been instructed to occupy while we
waited for our guide for the tour of the facility. His expression didn’t give
me much confidence.

“That doesn’t sound like an answer
to me,” I said, turning my eyes toward him and fixing him with a stare I’d
learned from my mother. I watched my father visibly shrink back before he gave
his begrudging answer.

“It’s fine… if you like hangin’
around a bunch of rich, old folks.”

“It’s not permanent, Dad, and this
is one of the best assisted living centers in the country and they have on-site
alcoholics anonymous meetings. You’re here to sober up and change your life.
You’re going to like it just fine.”

“If you say so, Gigi.”

Something was up, something that he
wasn’t telling me. Did he really not like it here that much? The thought of
what might happen if he decided to leave had me nervous.

“Is something the matter, Dad?” I
ventured.

“How’re you payin’ for all this?” he
asked, raising his bushy eyebrows at me. “Last thing you were telling me someone
took your car, and all of those student loans you’d taken out were turning your
life into a living hell. But now you’re putting me up in this frou-frou-rich-people
old folks home and driving around in a brand new Mercedes. I know you didn’t
win no lottery, girl.”

“Don’t worry, Daddy,” I said,
“there’s nothing going on—nothing illegal, anyway. Things have been complicated…
Tell you what, I’ll explain everything as soon as you’re out of here.”

My father stared at me for a long
while, his jaw set as he just seemed to take me in and sigh. I didn’t like that
look, not one bit, and I knew from the moment he gave it to me.

“Did I ever tell you about being in
the Army?” he asked, putting his hand in his pockets. Something was strange
about the way he asked, the look in his eyes as he turned them just slightly
away from me, avoiding direct contact.

“Of course you did, Dad. You told me
and Tyrell stories all the time whenever you came home.”

My father shook his head, smiling a
wry smile as he turned his eyes toward the ground.

“I meant
why
I joined the Army,” he said, “why I became a soldier in the
first place? I don’t think I’ve
ever
told anyone that story.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand,
Daddy, you joined the Army because you always—”

“Wanted to be a hero? To serve my
country?” my father asked, shaking his head. “That was a load of shit I told
your mom so y’all wouldn’t worry about me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I joined the Army because it was
the
only
way that I’d ever be able to
provide for you, your mother, and your brother. I never wanted to enlist, and I
especially didn’t want to fight in no damn war in the desert. I hated the Army.

“But I was young and poor, and there
wasn’t a damn thing that I wouldn’t do for my family. So I joined up, went
through my training, and started being a soldier. It was fine, at first, but
the longer I stayed, the more it started to crush my spirit. I gave up thirty
years—sold my soul to Uncle Sam for a few bucks and a nice place to live.”

“It wasn’t like that, Daddy,” I
said.

“It was, Gigi. I’d think every day
about how miserable I was, how awful working for the military made me feel… but
then I’d get home after being so far from you three and I’d remember why I was
doing it all. That didn’t make it any better, but I felt like so long as your
mother and you kids were happy, then me being miserable would be worth it.”

I stared at him for a long time as
he recounted his life from a perspective I have never imagined.

I closed my eyes. “I didn’t know you
felt that way...”

“Good,” he gruffed. “That’s the way
I wanted it. But going through a life like that, sacrificing your happiness for
others—no matter how much you love them—can turn your life into something
awful. It’s not worth it—being unhappy, I mean. You deserve better than the
life I have. It’ll turn you into a shell of what you were—something you don’t
want to see looking back at you in the mirror and you do stupid things to cope
with it all… like drinking.”

“I’m so sorry, Dad,” I whispered,
wrapping my arms around him as my eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t help
feeling responsible for what he’d become, even if I’d never asked it of him myself.
I knew my father had made sacrifices for me, for us all, but I’d never realized
just how much.

“Don’t be sorry, not for that,” he
said, holding me tightly the way he used to when I was a child. “I’d do it all
again just to see my little girl smile. You can’t sacrifice happiness for a
good life, is what I’m trying to tell you… otherwise, you’re not ever going to
live
to enjoy it. You have to go after
what you want from life, Gigi, and not let it pass you by.”

I closed my eyes, blinking a few
tears from them as I held on tight to my father. My hands clutched at his
jacket as we held one another close and I laid my head on his shoulder. I
couldn’t help but think about Dorian, about what could have been a good life
with him and our child. Now all I could imagine was Dorian sitting up in his
penthouse, drinking himself to death.

And there was nothing I could do.

It was no use. No matter how much I
thought about it, nothing could bring Dorian back to me. His mother had already
proven how far she was willing to go to keep us apart. I had a family of my own
to think about.

“Are you Mr. Devereaux?” came a
chipper voice from behind the two of us. “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?”

My father and I both turned to fight
a young twenty-something in khaki pants and a powder blue polo emblazoned with
the facility’s logo standing there, practically bouncing on her heels.

“No, you weren’t interrupting,” I
said, wiping my eyes.

“Oh, good. My name is Tiffany, and
I’m going to be showing you around our facility today. It says here that you’re
registered for assisted living, but not any medical care, correct?”

“That’s right,” my father said. “I’m
not looking for any medical nonsense, I just need a place to live while I’m…
gettin’ myself back on my feet.”

“That’s absolutely understandable,
sir. We have a variety of different programs here, both treatment and
recreational that you can participate in at whatever level you need. Our job is
to treat you like family and give you the care you need.”

“How about the AA meetings?” he asked,
eyebrows raised. To Tiffany’s credit, she took it in stride.

“Our chapter meets in the West Hall
every Wednesday and Sunday night. I’m sure they’ll be eager to see you attend,
Mr. Devereaux.”

I smiled, laying my hand on my dad’s
back.

“I think this is going to be good
for you, Daddy.”

Now if only things would turn around
for me and Dorian.

I was home, in my penthouse with no
one around me—and even worse, nothing at hand to relieve the horrible condition
of my own sobriety. My body wasn’t responding well to amount of alcohol I’d
subjected myself to. Even now, my head was pounding as I rolled myself out of
the silk sheets. I could vaguely remember Ollie hauling me in here and helping
me into bed. I’d been in here a few days now, surrounded by empty Chinese food
containers Ollie had brought in. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to
talk to anyone until I knew the best way forward.

The room still smelled like Gigi’s
perfume… I glanced back at the bed as if I would miraculously see her in it. I
remembered how those sheets had looked around her body after we made love, how
perfectly they fell over her, showing off all the right curves.

God,
I thought, sighing as I imagined
her beautiful smile,
she looked like a
goddess whenever we made love.

My head throbbed and my eyes began
to sting with the beginnings of tears. I had to fix this. The time we spent
couldn’t have been fake. I’d looked into Gigi’s eyes and I’d seen something
more than lust… There was only one explanation for all of this.

My mother must have played one of
her twisted little games with Gigi’s head.

And now, I knew exactly what to do.

I stumbled out into the living room,
bracing myself against the wall with one hand and holding onto my head with the
other, trying to keep it from splitting open. The space was too bright after a
few days spent in darkness, but it was time to step into the light.

“About time you came,” Ollie said,
staring up from the couch. “I took a week off from my studies and this had
better be worth it. What the hell were you thinking Dorian?”

“I wasn’t thinking. That was the
point,” I replied, throwing myself into a chair.

“Well I’ve solved
that
problem. I had some of the staff
empty your liquor cabinet until you’re back under control,” Ollie said, his
face showcasing his concern.

“You didn’t have to do that. I
haven’t had that much to drink in years, and I’m not about to jump back into a
bottle,” I replied, shaking my head.

Ollie just shrugged. “So… If you’re
not going to drink yourself to death, and you’re done hiding in the bedroom,
what’s the plan and how can I help?”

“That’s easy Ollie. First, we figure
out exactly what my mother said to Gigi.”

“And then maybe we can shake hands
with the pope!” Ollie said, laughing.

“If we pull this off, I’ll introduce
you personally.”