Chapter 60
60
Hudson
This is the last place I thought I would be after winning the Cup. But here I am, sitting in a lackluster office with horrible fluorescent lights that make my eyes twitch. Seriously, how do people work under these things? I feel like I’m in a bad crime movie.
The worst part? This is the third office I’ve been to in three days. Trying to find an attorney that is the right fit to “handle the situation” is much harder than I expected.
Also, I hate the word “situation.” It makes everything sound like I’m in high school and just got caught sneaking out after curfew. I can practically hear my dad’s stern voice telling me how much potential I have and how I will squander it.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t.
Molly is currently sitting beside me.
Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap like she’s afraid she might start gesturing wildly. That isn’t alarming on its own, but the way her knee bounces makes me nervous. It’s jerking so much that it causes the cheap and poorly made conference table to rattle.
Yeah, this place doesn’t bode well for me. If the lawyer can’t afford a sturdy table, how am I supposed to trust them with my divorce?
I press my foot against the leg of her chair to stop the shaking, but she shoots me a glare.
“What?” I whisper, knowing full well why she’s shooting me a death stare.
“Nothing,” she seethes back.
The third attorney in our pathetic attempt to find proper legal counsel is a balding man in a slightly too tight suit.
Again, I’m not at all impressed.
His tie is aggressively green as if he’s trying to prove he has a personality despite his monotone voice. The only thing it’s doing is making my eyes hurt. Like, I get it, you want me to think you’re “cool.” But I’m not buying it.
Here’s the thing, I don’t need this ridiculous man to have a personality. I just need him to know the law.
He adjusts his glasses, looking at the folder on the table between us like it contains the meaning of life. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t. Unless the meaning of life involves regrettable decisions made while in Vegas.
“So,” the attorney says, flipping a page for no apparent reason, “you’re looking for help with . . . annulment matters?”
I glance at Molly, who is staring hard at the man like he’s about to accuse us of something. She’s about one glare away from standing up and abandoning this whole meeting.
I’m with you, Hex. This is bad.
We’d agreed not to spill too many details during this consultation. Not because we’re embarrassed. Okay, I’m not embarrassed . Molly, on the other hand . . . but I digress, the issue is this guy doesn’t exactly scream “trustworthy.”
“Yes,” Molly says curtly, her voice clipped.
The attorney nods, his face expressionless. Way to calm her nerves, buddy. Stellar bedside manner. Do they teach this in law school? “You mentioned it was a marriage that occurred . . . recently?”
I resist the urge to smirk. “You could say that.”
“And you believe annulment is the best course of action?” He looks up at us for the first time.
Molly stiffens beside me; her knee starts to bounce again. Great. “Yes,” she says too quickly for my liking.
I narrow my eyes at her and notice that her chest is rising and falling too quickly. She’s about to have a panic attack. The thing is, people might think I’m the team clown, but I’m very good at reading people, especially Molly.
I clear my throat, stepping in before she does. “We just need someone who can handle it discreetly. No unnecessary questions, no leaks to TMZ.”
The man’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—curiosity, maybe? Or greed. Definitely not confidence. This isn’t a good look for him.
“Of course.” His tone is as bland as his office decor. This isn’t going to work. No way can I put up with this man for however long it takes to get this annulled. “Discretion is a priority in cases like this.”
“Great.” I lean back in my chair. “So, hypothetically, if we hired you, how long would this process take?”
“That depends on the specifics.” He folds his hands on the table. “The circumstances of the marriage, the jurisdiction where it occurred—”
“It was Vegas,” Molly blurts, then immediately clamps her mouth shut like she’s said too much. I bite back a laugh when her face turns cherry red.
The attorney arches an eyebrow. “Did you say Vegas?”
Despite how tightly I’m pressing my lips together, a small laugh leaks from my mouth. I turn my attention to Molly, who doesn’t find this situation nearly as funny as I do. She looks like she wants to melt into the floor.
My stomach twists at her reaction. It’s not like I thought she’d be thrilled about being married to me, but I also wish she didn’t have such a bad reaction to being married to me. Sure, it’s a mistake, but she doesn’t have to act like it’s the end of the world.
“Yeah.” Never breaking her gaze, I lean forward. “Quickest weddings in the country. They’re like drive-through burger joints but with vows.”
Molly glares at me, her cheeks flushing.
Her eyes screaming, shut up.
“Right.” The attorney scribbles something in his notes. I’d love to see what. Something tells me it’s not favorable. Maybe he’s taking notes for when he does decide to sell our story to the tabloids.
Well, technically, he can’t do that.
Attorney client privilege. But I never paid him money . . . is privilege still in place?
I shake my head, pushing away the thoughts spiraling in my head.
“And how long ago did this . . . union take place?” At this point, I should have scheduled a root canal instead. That would have been more fun than this.
“A week,” Molly mutters, barely audible.
This time, the attorney doesn’t react, but I can see the faint twitch of his pen. “And you’re certain annulment is the best course of action?”
“Yes,” we both say at the same time, though Molly’s answer is more forceful than mine.
“All right.” He closes the folder, placing the pen down on the table beside it. “I’ll need more information to proceed, but based on what you’ve told me so far, this should be a straightforward process.”
Straightforward. Sure. Because nothing about this has been straightforward so far.
We leave the office half an hour later, and I don’t have to even look at her to feel the tension. She’s like a ticking time bomb, one that’s ready to explode.
As we walk through the parking lot, she still doesn’t break the silence.
She actually doesn’t utter one single sound until we’re both in the car, and even then, she just sits there with her arms crossed, staring out the windshield.
“Well,” I say after a long silence, “that was a waste of time.”
Molly turns to me, her eyes narrowing. “You think?” she deadpans.
Do I think? I still think getting a root canal would have been more pleasurable, but I hold back that answer.
“He wasn’t that bad.” I shrug. “I mean, he didn’t offer us a Groupon for his services like the first guy. Or a BOGO like the second guy. As if I’d get hitched again by Elvis and need another annulment. What kind of man does he think I am?”
“I think it’s kind of obvious, don’t you think?” She lets out a sigh. “None of these lawyers inspire a lot of confidence.”
I sit back in the driver’s seat. “No, but at least this office didn’t smell like burnt popcorn.”
Molly slumps back in her seat. “I can’t believe we’re doing this again. I thought the third time would be the charm.”
“Third time’s never the charm,” I say. “That’s just something people say to make themselves feel better. Like ‘love at first sight.’ Or ‘just the tip.’” I laugh.
She gives me a side-eye glare, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re not helping.”
“Sure, I am,” I say, flashing her my best grin. “I’m keeping things light. You’d be miserable without me.”
“I’d be less annoyed without you.” She’s trying to sound angry, but I don’t miss the faint smile tugging at her lips.
I laugh, starting the car. “All right, where to next? Do we find lawyer number four, or do we just wait for Elvis to call us and offer his legal expertise?”
Molly groans, covering her face with her hands. “I can’t believe I’m stuck doing this with you.”
“Hey, don’t blame me,” I say, pulling out of the parking lot. “You said yes, remember? This is a fifty-fifty partnership, Hex.”
“Do you ever take anything seriously?”
“Sure.” I glance at her quickly before focusing back on the road. “Like hockey. And my fantasy football league. And this weird little marriage we’ve got going on.”
She lets out a sharp laugh. “It’s not a marriage, Hudson.”
“Technically, it is.” I grin, and I’m sure if I were looking at her, I’d see my favorite scowl that she often gives me. “We’ve got the paperwork to prove it.”
“Which we’re trying to get rid of,” she points out.
“Doesn’t mean it’s not real,” I tease. “In fact, I think we might set a record for the shortest marriage in history.”
Molly groans again, but this time it sounds like she’s trying not to laugh. “We’re not even close to the shortest marriage. Remember that celebrity couple who lasted fifty hours?”
“Ah, true,” I say, nodding. “Then we’ll have to settle for something more impressive. Like longest annulment process. At this rate, we’re going to hit our one-month anniversary before we get this sorted.”
“That’s not funny,” she says, and I sneak a glance at her and see her lips are twitching.
“It’s a little funny,” I counter. “I mean, think about it—if we keep this up, we might outlast my parents’ marriage.”
That gets her. Molly finally allows herself to laugh, her head falling back against the seat. “God, you’re impossible.”
“Yep,” I say, grinning. “But you still married me.”
“Remind me to never drink with you again.”
“Noted,” I say. “But for the record, you’re the one who said, ‘I do.’”
“One more word, and I’m calling the next lawyer by myself.”
I remove my right hand from the steering wheel and mock surrender. “Fine. I’ll behave.”
“That’ll be the day.”
We drive in silence for a while.
The awkwardness from earlier fades away. It’s strange—this whole mess should be unbearable, but somehow, being stuck in it with Molly makes it . . . tolerable.
Maybe even fun.
I glance at her out of the corner of my eye, watching as she absentmindedly taps her fingers against her knee. She catches me staring and raises an eyebrow.
“What?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, focusing back on the road.
She doesn’t press, but I can feel her watching me for a moment longer before she turns back to the window.
Yeah, this whole situation is ridiculous.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not in any rush to fix it.
Not yet, at least.