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

by Imani King

  Dorian gently placed his hand on my lower back, his thumb brushing the base of my spine. “I want you in my life, Gigi. I don’t want alcohol or parties or my goddamned mother. I want you to be there with me every step of the way while we raise our child together, because I love you.”

  Hearing those words come out of his mouth for the first time made my stomach flutter and my heartbeat quicken. I almost couldn’t believe that he’d said it just like that. It was so perfect and so simple that I couldn’t figure out how to describe my own feelings about it.

  “I love you too, Dorian,” I managed to whisper, my lips suddenly dry as I looked up into his eyes. “I… I didn’t know how much until today, but I really do love you. And I’m so sorry. I let your mother get under my skin and it ruined what we had.”

  “No, it didn’t,” Dorian whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “She gave you an impossible choice, and you made the decision you had to make. It doesn’t matter now. It’s in the past. I’m here. We’re all here,” he whispered, his hand on my tummy.

  I felt tears stinging the corners of my eyes and I fought to keep them back as I held onto him. I felt so good to have his warmth against me, feeling his heartbeat as I laid my head against his chest.

  “Are we ready to begin?” came the doctor’s tentative voice. I almost felt bad for him and gave the faintest of chuckles as I disengaged from Dorian.

  “Yes,” I said, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear as I went over to the exam table and climbed awkwardly on to the paper-covered surface. It was cold like I expected, but it was more than the cold that was making me nervous. I was about to see my child for the first time, and hopefully find out whether it was a boy or a girl.

  As soon as I got myself settled, Dorian was right beside me, his hand in mine as she doctor went over to a small call-box by the door and asked for the ultrasound technician to be sent in.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I whispered to Dorian as a woman entered, rolling the ultrasound machine along with her.

  “Me too,” he whispered back as the woman pulled up a stool on the opposite side of me from Dorian.

  “All right, ma’am, I’m going to need you to lift up your shirt just a bit so that I can apply the gel,” the technician said, going through the words she’d probably said to hundreds or thousands of mothers-to-be. But despite that, I found her voice comforting and sweet.

  I did as she instructed, revealing my stomach to the chilly air of the exam room. I bit my lip as she got out a white squeeze bottle and turned on the machine, the big screen on top flaring to life. I braced myself for the cold, but nothing I could have done would have prepared me for the shock of just how damn frigid it felt. She squeezed a large glob of the viscous fluid out onto my lower stomach, taking an oddly shaped wand in her other hand and using it to spread the gel around, which only made the cold worse.

  I tried not to focus on it, turning my gaze instead to the screen as black and white shapes began to form. She moved the wand in slow circles just over my womb. At first it all looked like static, nonsensical shapes that I couldn’t possibly decipher.

  “Ah, there it is,” said the doctor, reaching over and pointing toward a small shape on the side of the screen. The tech moved the wand to get into a better position, bringing the shape that was our child into center frame. It didn’t look like anything at first, just a strange white blob.

  But then it moved.

  I watched as the thing inside of me squirmed ever so slightly, turning as I finally caught a vague glimpse of what could only be one of its legs, at the end of which were the tiniest of little toes.

  I let out a gasp, my tears finally gushing forth as I made out the face of my baby on the screen. I cried. Oh, Lord, did I cry as I saw my child wriggling inside of my womb. It felt so surreal, knowing without a doubt that there was an honest-to-God life growing inside of me.

  “Aha, it looks like you’re going to start shopping for something pink for this little lady,” the doctor chuckled, pointing again at the screen.

  “It’s a girl?” Dorian asked, a smile spreading on his face as he watched the tech bring her into better focus. Sure enough and clear as day, we were certainly looking at a little girl.

  “We’re having a girl,” I whispered, wiping tears away from my eyes.

  Dad’s going to be so happy, I thought, laughing as I imagined the way he’d dance for joy at the thought of having a grandbaby to spoil.

  Shit. Dad. I’d been so scared of what Dorian might think I’d never even told him about my father. A pang of guilt struck me. If we were going to make this work, we had to get past our little secrets. It was time to open up… To tell Dorian everything…

  “You really think he’s going to like me?”

  “You’d better hope so,” Gigi joked as the two of us walked into the lobby of the Summer Harbor Care Center. “Otherwise, this entire engagement is off… again.”

  The center definitely wasn’t what I had expected when she mentioned where we were going—mostly because it looked clean and well-tended. The staff nodded and smiled as we passed, and as we approached the front desk, the young medical assistant even address Gigi by name.

  “Good morning, Ms. Devereaux! Here for your father, correct?” Her bright eyes turned toward me for a moment. “And your guest, as well?”

  “Yes, Joanna, Mr. Lambert will be coming with me.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she said, her smile bright and cheerful. “I just need you both to sign in.”

  After we’d both scribbled our John Hancocks on the paper, Gigi and I headed toward down a corridor and up a flight of stairs. It took us an extra few minutes of walking to finally get to her father’s room, but on the way, I began to get an idea for the kind of place this was.

  Each “room” was practically its own apartment with all of the amenities, which I found impressive in its own right, but given the fact that everything here seemed to border on a damn spa, I was actually starting to feel a little jealous of the old man.

  “If I need to start living in a home,” I said, nudging her gently, “make sure it’s this one.”

  We found his front door already open halfway, the sound of early morning television greeting us as we drew close. Gigi lightly rapped on it as she entered before me, signaling me to wait just outside. My heart was pounding as I halted, rocking back and forward on my heels as I listened to Gigi say her “hello’s.”

  “‘Morning, Dad,” she said sweetly, followed by the sounds of a chair being moved. “Anything good on?”

  “Same old shit,” came a grumbling voice from somewhere beyond the entryway. “Some rich asshole is trying to tell everyone else how to run the damn country, like he knows anything.”

  “How are they treating you?”

  “Same way they treated me yesterday. Way too nice.”

  “You like it,” Gigi teased.

  “Don’t think I asked you whether I liked it or not,” her father grunted, though from Gigi’s laughter I could tell he was smiling. “You told me on the phone you needed to tell me something. What’s so important that you couldn’t just say it then, huh?”

  “Well, I didn’t need to tell you something so much as show you something—but more like someone.”

  A silence followed her words, and I could almost feel the look her father must have been giving her. It only served to make me even more anxious as I waited for someone to finally speak. I started to wonder whether Gigi was wrong and her father might not approve.

  “Someone? I don’t like the sound of that,” I heard him say. “You go off and get yourself a man now, Georgia Devereaux? That’s why you didn’t talk to your daddy for a whole two weeks?”

  His voice came off as disapproving at first, disgruntled that his daughter would do something so brazen as to get herself someone new.

  “About damn time,” he finally added, a chuckle to his voice. “Well, then, send him in.”

  “Dorian, sweetie,” Gigi finally called. “You can co
me in now.”

  I took a slow, deep breath to calm my nerves as I walked into her father’s room, a nice, spacious, studio-style apartment with its kitchen and living area. I swept my gaze all around, taking in the brand new appliances and the hardwood floors. I smiled, warmth filling my chest as I turned my eyes toward Gigi. I was impressed by how much she loved her father—some kids would have just dumped their parents in the cheapest facility, but she went out of her way to give her dad the best place to live that he could ask for.

  “It’s a nice place,” I said, holding out my hand to shake Mr. Devereaux’s. “Dorian Lambert, sir. It’s an honor to meet the man who raised an amazing woman like Gigi.”

  Mr. Devereaux stared at me for a long moment before his eyes flicked back to Gigi, then down to my offered hand. My chest tightened and I was afraid the silence would last forever, until he finally broke into a half-smile, took my hand firmly, and shook it.

  “She did pretty damn well pickin’ it out, didn’t she? Must have cost her a pretty penny. Though if I remember that name right, you’ve got a few shiny pennies yourself, Mr. Lambert.”

  I gave a nervous smile, unsure of what news story might have run across his TV in the last couple of weeks. My stomach clenched up as he held his grip on my hand, waiting for me to reply.

  “Nothing’s too expensive when it comes to family,” I said, drawing another silent gaze from Gigi’s father before he nodded in what I hoped was approval.

  “You’re damn right,” he said. “All right, Gigi, I’ve met your friend. Why is he here?”

  Mr. Devereaux waved for me to pull up a chair beside his daughter as he sat himself back down in his own recliner, his eyes still on me like a hawk stalking a mouse.

  “Well, Dad,” she began, taking a deep breath before continuing, “I’m… pregnant.”

  Immediately Mr. Deveraux’s eyes fell on me, his mouth forming a thin line for the briefest of moments before finally speaking. “And it’s his?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, laughing a little nervously.

  “And you intend on looking after it? Raising it? Feeding it? Loving it?”

  I looked into his old, tired eyes for a long time before I answered. I reached over and took Gigi’s hand in mine, squeezing gently.

  “I will love that little girl with every bit of my heart, Mr. Devereaux. I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t love her.”

  “It’s a girl?” he asked, his stern expression faltering into a smile. “I’m gonna have a granddaughter?”

  “Yes, Daddy. A sweet baby girl,” Gigi said, smiling at him brightly. “Well, at least she’s going to be a girl—can’t make any promises on that sweet part, considering her mother.”

  “Don’t you sell yourself short, girl. You were the sweetest little girl growing up, and I’m sure this one will be, too.”

  She and her father wrapped one another in a tight embrace, a glistening trail of tears falling down her father’s cheeks. I smiled, watching the two of them hold on to one another for dear life. It was beautiful to see her and her father so happy, so relieved that everything would turn out just fine.

  “I can’t believe I’m gonna have a grandbaby,” Mr. Devereaux said, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. “I thought I’d never get to hold one in my whole life, not with the bonehead of a brother of yours keepin’ those sweet babies from me.”

  “Don’t worry about Tyrell,” Gigi said, waving the thought of her brother away. “He’ll come around, sooner or later...”

  Her father sniffed and let out a satisfied sigh before turning his eyes back on me again, looking me up and down, appraising me. Then he smiled.

  “I take it you plan on marrying my daughter before she has the baby girl, don’t you?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, resting my hand on hers to signal her to let me handle it. “We’ve already started planning the ceremony.”

  “Dorian…”

  “It’s going to be gorgeous,” I said, running my thumb over her top of her hand. “The botanical gardens are beautiful this time of year. A nice, big open area in the greenhouse is available for wedding ceremonies and parties, with plants and flowers all around us, creating life as we start ours together. They have a gazebo in the center where we can say our vows in, raised up so that everyone can see us from their seats, with flowers hanging from the lintel and columns, framing us in their petals as we tell one another ‘I do.’_”

  Gigi’s eyes were brimming with tears, shimmering streams of them flowing down her cheeks as she looks into my eyes. I smiled, lacing my fingers together with hers as I brushed a stray tear away before quickly kissing her soft lips.

  “I love you,” she whispered softly, her honey-colored eyes looking up into mine. “I love you so much, Dorian.”

  “I love you too, Gigi. More than anything else.”

  “You must be pregnant, girl,” Mr. Devereaux chuckled as I pulled away and he leaned in once again to hug his daughter tightly. “Crying like that out of nowhere.”

  She and I shared a look, one that said that he didn’t really need to know all the details.

  “Don’t think you’re gettin’ out of this, Mr. Lambert,” Mr. Devereaux laughed, pulling me in close and wrapping an arm around my back. “I’ve never been happier, not in a long time.”

  “Good,” Gigi whispered as we gently broke away from the tight embrace of her father. “That’s all I ever wanted for you.”

  “And we can see about getting you back home, if you’re ready, that is. Money’s not an issue.”

  Her father sat for a moment in silence, a ponderous look on his face, his index finger pressed against the line of his jaw. For a moment I was almost afraid that he’d be insulted by the offer, but eventually he shook his head.

  “No, I don’t think going back to that old house will do me any favors right now. Too many memories—good and bad—that I need to put behind me if I ever want to be any kind of grandfather to my up-and-coming grandbaby.”

  “So someplace new, then?” Gigi asked.

  “I think that’d be nice—but we’ll talk about that after the baby’s born. For now, this place is helping keep me on the straight and narrow. You don’t need any of my stress on your shoulders while you’ve got a little passenger riding along.”

  Dorian was right. The botanical gardens really were beautiful this time of year.

  Never, not even in my wildest dreams, could I have imagined a ceremony as lavish as this. And it was being held for me, Georgia Devereaux, the girl who’d never been considered special by anybody but her daddy.

  Until Dorian Lambert came along.

  The old, sprawling branches of the oak trees above us were dripping with crystals and Spanish moss. Antique lanterns lined either side of the runner flanked by gorgeous, silver chairs with plush, purple cushions. Every one of them was filled with someone I knew and loved. Even some of Dorian’s extended family had shown up, the ones who didn’t care much for his mother or the late Mr. Lambert, Sr.

  My father squeezed my arm as we slowly walked. “You got this,” he whispered and I clutched my bouquet of violet lilies and baby’s breath all the tighter. “This is gonna be the best day of your life. Maybe even mine.”

  I smiled, trying not to hold my breath as everyone eyed me in my designer gown. It was covered in intricate beading—a far cry from the dress I’d worn on my wedding day the first time around. But the only stare I cared about was Dorian’s. His bright blue eyes picked me out from all the way down the aisle, and when he smiled, I could see tears shimmering in his gaze.

  I beamed despite my anxiety. That was exactly the kind of look I’d been hoping for.

  At the end of the aisle, I turned toward my father and kissed him on his grizzled cheek. Daddy chuckled a little and kissed me back, then pulled away to look into my eyes.

  “I’m proud of you, Georgia,” he said, and suddenly Dorian wasn’t the only one who was going to cry. “Now, go up there and marry the man of your dreams. And try n
ot to ruin your makeup.”

  I laughed. “Yes, Daddy,” I said, turning toward my husband.

  Dorian was wearing an expertly tailored gray suit with a violet tie underneath. Ollie was standing beside him, his best man and best friend.

  Ollie had pouted a little when Dorian told him there wouldn’t be a bachelors party, but he got over it. I haven’t been a bachelor in a long time, Dorian said to me, winking conspiratorially.

  I loved that man more than words could say.

  As I took my place beside him and handed off my bouquet, Dorian took my hands in his and gazed down at me with all the love in the world. “You look incredible, Gigi Devereaux,” he whispered to me, voice shaking, grip tight.

  I grinned at him. “I think I’m going to like being Gigi Lambert again,” I said, and he smiled even wider, kissing my forehead.