The Convenient Wife (A BWWM Steamy Marriage of Convenience Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

than
anything.

 
    “Thanks Officer Miller,” I said,
resting my hand on my father’s shoulder as the two of us headed out the door.

 
    The bright afternoon sunlight was
blinding as my father and I stepped out of the station, the sounds of the city
roaring over us as we made our way down the precinct’s front steps. The street
was filled with people bustling about on their lunch breaks, even a few
officers loitering outside as they ordered from a greasy hotdog cart. A few of
them nodded in our direction, even calling out to my father in a mock-scolding
tone.

 
    I thought for a moment about
unloading on my father, letting him know that on top of all my other troubles,
I didn’t need his shit. Then I bit the inside of my cheek as I realized that
would probably only make him drink more, and a couple hours after the fact, I’d
feel like shit about myself.

 
    “You going to tell me the truth?” my
father grumped, his bushy brows furrowed. “My little girl loses her car and she
doesn’t expect her old man to worry, but I know damn well it didn’t just get
towed. What kinda fool do you take me for?”

 
    “It’s nothing. You don’t need to be
worry about me.”

 
    “Who else am I supposed to be
worried about if I can’t worry about my little girl?” he snorted as we crossed
the busy street.

 
    “You could always start with
worrying about yourself, Dad. I mean, how many times this month has it been?
Four? Five?” I sighed and shook my head, hiking my purse higher up on my shoulder
as we walked.

 
    “You’re just counting the times I
called you,” he muttered.

 
    “Daddy!” I scolded, smacking him on
his arm. “What would have happened if the cops didn’t find you? You could have ended up dead in a ditch!”

 
    I let out a frustrated sigh. He just
didn’t get it! How could someone be so stupid, so inconsiderate about how much
their life meant to other people?

 
    “What was it this time?”

 
    “The hell are you talkin’ about,
girl?” he huffed, doing his best to sound innocent.

 
    “You don’t go on one of your benders
without a reason—maybe not a good reason, but you always find one. So, what was
it this time?”

 
    “Got some bad news in the mail,
that’s all,” he grumbled, scuffing his feet on the ground as he walked.

 
    He was like a five-year-old. It
drove me up the wall.

 
    “Yeah? What bad news did you get
this time, Daddy? Power bill too high? Didn’t win the publisher’s clearinghouse
ten million dollar prize?”

 
    “Nah, none of that,” he said,
heaving a long sigh before letting it out in a soft whistle. “They’re takin’
the house.”

 
    “What do you mean, they’re taking
the house?” I asked, narrowing my eyes as I turned my head to look at him. He
wouldn’t meet my gaze, his eyes downcast, searching for anything else to look
at but me. I could see the guilt and shame written all over him, even in the
way he licked his lips—he only did that when he was searching for something to
say, and it never turned out to be anything good. “Tell me what happened, Dad.”

 
    “I might’ve… forgot to pay a few
months of the mortgage,” he said, giving his shoulders a noncommittal shrug as
he cast his stare out along the street.

 
    I stopped, my feet glued to the
sidewalk as I stared at him. I felt like I’d been punched right in the chest, a
tightness gathering right between my breasts. I couldn’t breathe for a moment.

 
    “You lost our house?”

 
    “I lost my house,” my father growled, his lower lip trembling. “You ain’t
lived there since you went to college.”

 
    “I still grew up there, Dad!”

 
    “Not like it matters, anyway.
Nothin’ I can do about it.”

 
    “If you’d told me sooner…” I began,
but only let out a cry of frustration.

 
    “You still ain’t told me the truth,” he observed coolly, like
changing the subject would somehow set things right, let him off the