The Convenient Wife

“Yeah, and I’m here now.” Holding out my arms, I stop a few feet away. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

Turning on his heels, he strolls down the hall, his face forward, chin lifted high. “What did you tell her?”

The way he refuses to say her name pierces my gut, making me angry instantly. There’s a darkness in his tone I already knew he’d have, but it still burns.

“Her?”

“You know, your wife,” he says, his voice peppered with revulsion. “I’m assuming she’s wondering why she couldn’t come with you?”

“Does it matter?”

“I suppose not.” His stride is slow, his feet sweeping across the smooth marble tiles, heels clicking softly, causing a light echo around us. “So, she’s from Crest Village?”

“That’s right.”

“And did you know her father’s in prison?”

“Called in a few favors, huh? Had someone check her out?”

“Why wouldn’t I, Bolt? You do realize this marriage affects more than just you?”

“Right. . .” Pausing, I shake my head. “Because my life is somehow your life too.”

“Prison.” Shaking his head, he grunts, his disapproval coming out as an eye roll and a frown. “What do you see in her? What could she possibly have that the other girls you dated in the past didn’t?”

Here we go. The interrogation.

Taking a deep breath, I glance out the window and stare out into the ocean. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself to you. Isn’t this what you wanted? A wife for me, the possibility of grandchildren for you. This is your dream.” I let the last few words dangle happily on the edge of my tongue, teasing him with a tone that’s sarcastic and over the top.

“You’re right, this is what I wanted, except there’s one problem…” Stopping, he turns to face me and presses his toes to mine. “We’re Sheckler’s, Bolt, we don’t mingle with the lower class. I don’t like this, and I don’t like her. Girls like her, all they’re looking for is easy access to your bank account.”

“Starla—her name is Starla, and she’s not after money.”

Chuckling, he grins at me like he used to when I was a child and he was proving a point. “You have no idea what she wants. You’ve known her for a few months, that’s not enough time to know shit, Bolt.” Wagging his finger in my face, he thins his lips. “But, I do know girls like her, girls who come from nothing are only after a rich boy’s money. These relationships don’t end well. Your mother is upset. She’s so angry that you did this to us.”

“Us?” Laughing out loud, I rub my jaw and look into his eyes. “I didn’t do anything to you. You don’t know anything about Starla. She’s not like those girls you’re talking about. She doesn’t care about money. She doesn’t give a shit about what I have. She isn’t looking to sneak in and steal our millions. Not Starla, that’s not who she is.”

“There’s no way you can know that for sure. She’s not one of us, Bolt. She’s a poor little girl from the Village, with a father who looks out from behind metal bars. She’s a girl with no opportunity in life and no future. She saw you and latched onto you like a damn leach. She’s using you, Bolt, that’s what these types of girls do. They use blind men to move up in the world.”

“She’s not. Just because her father made bad choices and ended up in jail, doesn’t mean Starla is beneath us. You have no right to judge her. You’re not even giving her a chance.” My voice is stern, causing him to jerk his head back in surprise.

Starla isn’t using me for shit. I’m the user, I’ve been the one using her this entire time.

My inner teenager is crawling up my throat, trying to escape and lash out at the man who has challenged me my entire life. I don’t tell him the truth, even though it’s right there, sitting on the tip of my tongue, ready to prove him wrong.

“Did you knock her up then? Is she pregnant?”

“What?” My jaw drops open as I shake my head. “No—she’s not pregnant.”

Furrowing his brows, he tilts his head. “Then what is it, Bolt, what do you see in this girl?”

What isn’t there to see?

She’s beautiful, she’s smart, she’s funny. The girl knows her whiskey, and she takes pride in making it too.

She’s special.

She’s mine… And that’s how I want it to stay.

Exhaling a long breath, I rake a hand across the top of my head. I’m not sure how to answer him because everything I want to say are things I’m still trying to figure out for myself.

My father sees her as a user, like a parasite that’s trying to suck me dry. Only I know better, I’ve gotten to know her, not the person he wants to portray her as.