Free Preacher's Wifey by Dishan Washington

line, but I want to see you again. Away from the office. I’m coming to Atlanta in a couple of weeks for a medical conference. I thought about what you said, and I think it’s time for me to explore another area in my field. Thanks for being an eye-opener. So, hopefully, you will call me back. I’m sure you saw the number on your caller ID. It’s my cell. Call me.”
    My heart was beating rapidly. I wasn’t sure if it was because he had actually called or if it was because he thought enough of me to check on me—to show concern. Or it could have been the heat building up within me when I thought about the kiss we shared. Whichever it was had me giddy and confused.
    I contemplated calling him back, but I had no idea what to say. A part of me wanted to see him again, and a part of me knew it was wrong to even consider it. Then again, was it wrong? My marriage wasn’t a real marriage. It was a business arrangement, as I had been reminded of a lot recently. But I was still on my mission to get Byran to love me. No, I couldn’t call back.
    I touched the button on my phone that led me to my screen for texts. Texting was safer than calling.
    Seth, sorry I missed your call. Don’t really feel up to talking right now. I’ll try to reach out to you some other time. Take care & all the best, Allyson
    I waited for his reply, and it never came.
    It was for the best.

Chapter Eight
    â€œGood morning, Lady Allyson. As always, you look gorgeous. That St. John knit was made for you,” said Damita, my assistant at church.
    â€œThank you. You know your pastor loves to see me in my knits,” I said, smiling my best first lady smile.
    â€œIndeed he does.”
    â€œPastor, don’t forget you and First Lady have breakfast this morning with the deacons and their spouses. Everyone is there except for Deacon Walters. He isn’t feeling well this morning and won’t be attending the breakfast or service,” said Renae, Byran’s assistant.
    â€œThank you, Renae. Can you go into the conference room and let them know that I am on the premises and will be there shortly?” Byran replied.
    â€œYes, sir. Do you want apple, orange, or cranberry juice this morning?”
    â€œCranberry. But I also want a cup of—”
    â€œCoffee. Two sugars and two creams,” she said, finishing his sentence for him.
    That irked me. The little heifer was always walking around bragging about how well she knew him. It was obvious to everybody around that she had a thing for Byran. Oh, well. She was too simple. He would never even look at someone who looked like her.
    â€œYou have a great memory, Renae,” Byran said.
    â€œThat’s not a testament to a great memory, Pastor. Anybody could remember how you take your coffee if they prepared it for you several times a day, every day,” Damita said, looking directly at Renae.
    Renae shook her head. “Oh, hush, Damita. You are such a hater. But I am not going to let you steal my joy. Because the joy of the Lord is my strength. I bet you don’t even know where that is found in the Bible, do you?”
    â€œI am sure you are going to tell us all,” Damita said, rolling her eyes.
    â€œYou are right. It is in the book of Nebuchadnezzar, chapter eight, verse number ten,” Renae said proudly.
    We all immediately stopped walking. Damita and I exchanged a glance, as did Byran and I. The three of us were waiting on the burst of laughter that was sure to come from Renae at any moment. Instead, she looked at us as if we were the ones who had uttered something so ridiculous.
    â€œYou just showed your stupidity, Renae. There is no such book in the Bible. You meant Nehemiah,” Damita said.
    Embarrassment flooded Renae’s face. She had been serious. “Of course I know that. I was just playing,” she said, laughing nervously. She turned to Byran. “Pastor, you know I was just playing,