Read Online The Perfect Mistress by Reshonda Tate Billingsley - Free Book Online Page B

the cradle. “Tell it to the dial tone.”
    Of course, it rang right back. Joyce contemplated ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of her and she snatched the phone back up. “What?”
    â€œPut Vernon on the phone,” the woman repeated, though her voice was a lot calmer.
    â€œLook, I don’t know who the hell you are, but you will not call here demanding to talk with my husband.”
    â€œI just need Vernon.” Her voice quavered now. It sounded like she was crying.
    She could dissolve in a giant puddle of tears, but she was not about to talk to Vernon. “I don’t know what you need with my husband, but it ain’t happening.”
    â€œYou know what?” she said, her voice a mixture of sadness and anger. “Tell your husband to meet me at the hospital because I’m about to give birth to our child. I’m at Duke Memorial.” And then it was her turn to slam the phone down.
    Joyce stood in the kitchen, absolutely mortified. She didn’t notice that Vernon had appeared in the doorway.
    â€œWho is that on the phone, and what’s wrong with you?” he said.
    Joyce looked at her husband, searching for traces of deception. There were none. This had to be some horrible, horrible prank. Maybe the woman had the wrong number. But then Joyce quickly remembered that she’d asked for her husband by name.
    â€œWho was that, Joyce?” Vernon repeated.
    â€œIt was . . . it was for you,” she mumbled, trying to keep her rage at bay. There had to be an explanation. Vernon had promised her that he would do right from now on, so there had to be an explanation to this call.
    â€œOkay, if it was for me, why didn’t you give me the phone?”
    â€œShe hung up.”
    â€œShe?” His tone betrayed the fact that he knew that this wasn’t going to be good.
    â€œYeah,” Joyce continued, walking close enough to him tofeel his hot breath on her face. “It was someone who said you need to meet her at the hospital because she’s about to have your child.” Her eyes bore into her husband. She wanted him to look as mortified as she. No, she wanted him to laugh and say that somebody was playing a stupid joke. But his silence said everything.
    â€œWho is she?” Joyce asked.
    â€œI-I-I don’t know,” he stammered. “You answered the phone.”
    â€œWhich of your women is pregnant?” Joyce said, pulling her robe tighter, suddenly feeling self-conscious of being nude.
    â€œI don’t have any women,” he responded with more certainty. “And I don’t know why some woman would call you with that mess.”
    â€œWho is it? Don’t lie to me!” Joyce shouted, slamming her palm down on the counter.
    â€œStop before you wake up Lauren,” he whispered.
    â€œWho is she?” Joyce repeated without lowering her voice.
    He released a defeated sigh. “It may be Cecile. She’s been talking crazy about being pregnant.”
    â€œPregnant?” Joyce asked in disbelief.
    â€œBabe, let me explain.”
    â€œIs it yours?” Joyce demanded to know. As if sensing her impending rage, she felt the baby fluttering in her stomach. Joyce’s hand went to her belly and she finally lowered her voice. Stress wasn’t good for an unborn child. “Is one of your women pregnant at the same time I am?”
    â€œIt’s not my baby. I promise you it’s not my baby. She’s just trying to pin this on me because she knows I have money.” He raised his arms to embrace her. “Sweetheart, you’ve got tobelieve me. I have been faithful since I promised you I would do right. I swear.”
    Joyce stepped out of his grasp. “But if she’s trying to pin this on you, that means it could be your baby?” Her voice cracked. He wasn’t talking like a man who hadn’t done anything with this Cecile woman. He was talking like a man who wanted