Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97836 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
When Way took a seat behind his desk, I sat the papers in front of him. “Already printed. My signature’s been notarized.”
His eyes snapped up to mine. “Not notarized here, though, right? Tell me Nicki at the post office wasn’t the one who—”
“No. My assistant flew in and met me in Vegas. He’s a notary.” I pressed my lips closed and suppressed a groan. Could I possibly sound richer? Jesus, Silas. “I mean… he was coming to Vegas anyway. For a thing.”
Way studied the top page for only a second before glancing up at me. “Park County, Wyoming. You want to file here? No. No way. We’re not divorcing in Wyoming, Silas. It has to be Delaware.”
I frowned. “Why? Delaware has a waiting period of six months after we file. Wyoming doesn’t have a waiting period. I want this done.” I obviously didn’t mention the statement of net worth that would be required in almost any state. Kenji’s entire battle plan relied on a podunk judge overlooking the fact my statement would be thin on details.
Way shook his head. “I want it done, too, but I can’t do it here.” He gestured to his office door and lowered his voice. “Judge Whiteplume might keep this to himself, but his clerk absolutely will not. And as soon as she knows, everyone in town knows.”
I’d expected a homophobic reaction, and here it was. “And everyone in town will judge you for marrying a man?”
His chin jutted out. “No, asshole. They’ll judge me for marrying a stranger. Some guy I picked up in a bar when I was drunk!”
I felt like a jerk for assuming the worst, but I was strangely relieved to have him treat the gay part of this like it was no big deal. “People make mistakes, Way. It was a mistake.”
“First of all, I don’t make mistakes. This town counts on me to not bring scandal and drama, okay? We had enough of that with our last mayor. But also, I’m trying to land a big outdoor adventure race here in town, and I can’t have the powers that be at AdventureSmash finding out I’m embroiled in a… a… drunken Vegas marriage. So, we’ll have to do it in Delaware and wait the six months.” He glared at me, the sweet, naive cowboy suddenly taken over by the stressed town mayor. “And no one here will find out.”
I considered him for a long moment. Waylon was someone I wanted to trust. He seemed like a genuine, upright guy. But I’d been down that road before and had gotten burned very badly. People weren’t always what they seemed, and even if they were, sometimes people were desperate enough to cross even their own lines.
Then again, the waiting period would give me some time to figure out how to handle things better… and possibly consider offering him a settlement if things got contentious. And I hated seeing him stressed nearly as much as I’d hated seeing him sad the other night.
I nodded slowly. “Alright. I’ll get my people to prepare the paperwork for Delaware. You can get it notarized—out of town, I suppose—then we’ll file. Okay?”
Way blew out a breath, his shoulders dropping. “Yeah, good. Okay. Thank you. For understanding.”
“Let’s exchange contact information and stay in touch.”
We exchanged phones. His looked like it was several years old and had been caught in old sofa cushions for half its life or left out in a mud puddle a time or two. I quickly entered my contact info and handed it back before my fingers got nosy and clicked out of the contacts window.
Waylon wasn’t as reticent. He closed my contacts window and whistled when he saw my home screen. “That’s… a lot of apps.” His eyes met mine. “Tell me the truth, Silas. Have I married a closet phone addict?”
I grabbed my phone back and tucked it safely into my pocket. “Nothing closeted about it. I told you back at the bar that I’m on my phone all the time. I travel a lot for work, and I manage my life from my phone. Zero unread emails in my inbox,” I said proudly.
He mock shuddered. “This marriage was doomed from the get-go.”
It was ironic that he took the divorce papers off his desk a moment later, stepped over to a plastic paper shredder, and dropped them into the teeth. A loud grinding noise accompanied the loss of my plan A as the machine ate the notarized forms.
Way must have seen my face drop because he shot me a teasing look. “Let me buy you lunch before you go. Think of it as my first and last husbandly act. You can drown your sorrows in my brother-in-law’s chicken ranch wrap.”
I agreed, strangely relieved not to be saying goodbye right away. The idea of flying back to New York this afternoon and not seeing him again for a few months made me… uncomfortable.