Chapter 35
35
Shane
Time is ticking like a bomb in my mind. Yet I still steal a few minutes to work through everything I’ve learned.
Cat likes things neat from what I remember of her apartment.
Orderly is a way of life for her.
Beige. Fucking beige. That motherfucking father of hers taught her to be invisible. Or else. I’ll spend my life making her feel the opposite.
I need more time after hanging up with Waldrip to process the damage her parents willingly did to her. Pacing the bedroom, I try to collect my thoughts on her parents. She’s so fucking strong and fiercely independent. It all fucking makes sense now, and I want to rage with anger. To make them pay for hurting her.
Stopping at the glass door to the outside, I stand with my arms crossed over my chest and stare into the hills and skyline of the city. She’s better than me, but she’s had years to deal with it. That’s the thing—I can’t rage in front of her. I don’t want to upset her. I want her to retain the power she’s created from within, not regress into the pain. So I can’t make this about them. It’s about her. Only her.
A knock on the door draws my attention. I try to adjust my face, demeanor, anything to be supportive of Cat now. I smile, seeing her cross the room. “Hey, so the call went well.”
Taking her hand, I lead her into the living room. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, but I tuck some escaping strands behind her ear and kiss her on the cheek.
“That’s good. What happened?”
“Water? I’m going to get some water.” I move into the kitchen. “He said that he needs to do some research on what the curriculum was back then. It’s been updated each since, so he doesn’t know.”
“Did you tell him it was the month of April?”
“I did.” I pour from the pitcher, filling the glass. “I told him everything we knew.” Sliding it across the counter to her, I add, “Except I didn’t tell him we were married, or that we’re dating.”
“I agree.” She takes the glass and is about to drink but stops and lowers it to the counter. “We have to be careful, don’t we?”
This is the part that I hate, and now I’ve dragged her into it. “We do, or we become fodder for public consumption.”
She nods, turning the glass between her fingers. “So what happens next?”
“We wait.” I take a drink of water, watching her do the same, and then tap the screen of my phone to see the time. I wasted this morning sleeping in when I could have been guaranteed more time with her. Fuck it. I put it out there. “We’re at forty-seven hours and thirty-six minutes.”
The words hit her hard, judging by how she flinches. She lowers her glass, and a small smile appears, then grows wider. “Is that why you’re so nervous?”
“I’m not nervous.”
Her eyes go wide. She licks her lips, unable to stop her grin from returning. “Did you really think I was with you against my will, waiting for the hour to strike so I could run out of here?”
“Yes . . . No . I know you love me, babe, but I feel shitty for forcing you to spend time with me.” Moving around the counter, she stands with our knees touching and looped fingers hanging from my waistband. So casual, like this is a normal Sunday for us. I want it to be. So badly.
“Truth?”
“Truth.” I run my hands along her shoulders, needing to touch her and always be close to her.
“I would have answered the door if you had come back. I would have taken your call. I would have gone to Deer Lake if you asked. That’s the thing, Shane. You gave up on us, but I never did.” She leans against me, so I dip my hands down her back, keeping her close. “I didn’t date. Although I was mad at you and hurt, I was no good for anyone else.”
“You’re perfect to me.” Holding her in my arms, I stroke the back of her head, so fucking grateful to have her here. “So you’re taking off in . . .” I tap the phone again. “Thirty-one minutes?”
Lifting, she kisses my chin. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
I dip her down to kiss her neck, slowly working higher under her musical laughter. I kiss her lips, then look into her eyes. “It won’t be easy being my wife, but if we can get through the toughest days, I’ll give you a beautiful life.”
Bringing her upright, I cup her face and kiss her again, never tiring of this second chance I’ve been given. And then my phone buzzes. Fuck.
Every time it does that, dread fills my gut. I never want to see her upset or jealous over another woman again. She doesn’t deserve that.
Cat reluctantly backs away, resting her hip against the counter. I turn to look at my phone beside me. “Mr. Waldrip,” I announce with relief washing through me.
Her reaction matches mine. “What does the text say?”
Hovering over it, I rest against the cold stone and read, “It was a state government statistics project. We were researching . . . oh, uh.” I glance over at her. “Marriage and death certificates in California.”
She takes off running and flops on the couch, pulling her laptop onto her legs. She types faster than me, so I sit beside her as she pulls up the information for the state of California. While she scans, I point at a link about obtaining marriage licenses. “There.”
Clicking the link takes us to a new page. “No to courthouse ceremonies. It wasn’t at a venue. No to church.” She glances at me and smirks.
“I’d burn in the pews for all my sins.”
She nudges me with her elbow. “I still love you, though.”
Wrapping my arm around her back, I say, “That’s all that matters.”
Dragging her finger in front of the screen, she pauses again and shoots me a nervous look. “This one? Online?”
“I think so. It’s the only possibility that works for us.”
When she clicks, it takes us to another page of information. We both take a few minutes to read, and then I sit back, giving her room to finish. “I didn’t know you could get married online. Did you?”
“No.” She huffs, sounding defeated. “This doesn’t give us any helpful information. Where do we go from here?”
“This happened thirteen years ago last month?—”
“Online licenses seem really advanced for that time period.” She switches to a new search bar and enters online marriages in California to see what pops up. “It’s been around for fourteen years.”
“That’s a little coincidental.”
“But even if we did it online, we would have been required to appear in person to make it official. That’s changed since.” She falls back on the couch cushion and sighs. “We’re never getting this solved.”
“I have an idea.”
Angling her head, she asks, “What?”
“We need to talk to Roberta.”
My phone vibrates against my leg, and hers by the glare I’m shot. “Jesus, Shane. You’re going to kill me with the texts.”
I’d chuckle, but I think she’s serious. Pulling it from my pocket, I see a message from Tommy:
The car will pick you up at ten a.m. on Wednesday. Enjoy the day off tomorrow.
I look at her. And though she’s feigning complete disinterest, I know she’s on edge from it. “It was Tommy, my manager. We have two shows next weekend.”
“When do you leave?”
“Wednesday.”
“The county offices open on Tuesday. I can’t go this week, though. My schedule is booked full.” She sets her laptop on the coffee table, then slides onto my lap.
I slip my hands up the back of her T-shirt, and say, “What if I go?”
“It might work better for us. She loves you.” Wrapping her arms around my neck, she says, “In the meantime, it looks like we have another thirty-six hours. How should we spend them?”
Squeezing her fine ass, I stare into her playful eyes, reading a whole book of naughty ideas populating the irises. “I have a few ideas.”
“I thought you might.”
I kiss her, then rise to carry her into the bedroom. We’ve fucked all over this house, but this time, I want to savor our time together.
Tuesday 8 a.m. sharp
“You’re here bright and early,” Roberta says, hoisting herself up on the stool that’s too tall for her legs. “My first account of the day.”
“Wanted to make sure I got in to see you.”
“You’re seeing me. How can I assist you today, Mr. Faris? Are you still Scooby Doo-ing the mystery marriage?”
“Sure are.” I rest on my elbow, leaning in. “I wanted to get a little more information, and I’m hoping you can help me with that.”
Poised with her fingers over the keyboard, she says, “What am I searching for?”
“How was the marriage license sent? Was it an online form back then, through email, fax, or . . .?”
She types, stares at the screen, and then types again. “ Ah . Submitted online.” Tapping the screen, she says, “Did I tell you that you and Mrs. Faris were part of our original beta program?” My mind is still stuck on the Mrs. Faris part of that question and how much I like the sound of that.
“No, you didn’t mention it, Roberta. What does that mean exactly?”
“We’ve had so many people come in over the years to finalize the marriage.”
My gut twists. My chest tightens. I start rubbing the knot forming near my heart to loosen it while the worst flashes through my head. Is she saying— “What does finalize mean?”
“There was a glitch in the system. Some people got their emails, and some didn’t.” Spinning on her stool, she leans on the counter in front of her. “We were testing an online system to move from hard copies . . .” Her hands roll into the air above her head. “And put everything into the clouds. It was also being tested in case of emergencies. Natural disasters, pandemics, the ocean swallowing up California like they’ve predicted forever. That kind of thing.”
I’m still staring at her when she sits back like she’s wanting to chat all day while my life is falling apart. When I don’t say anything, she continues, “Anyway, you were part of the program. The license was filed as if it was complete, but now I see you never got the follow-up email. I wasn’t looking at the file as a whole. I was looking at the license since that’s what you were both verifying. The license is correct. The marriage . . . ”
Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it. Please— “Mystery solved. You’re not married, after all.” She’s smiling like she’s done me a favor. “All that upset for nothing.”
It’s for something alright. I’ve not only had my life ripped out from under me, but I no longer have my wife. Now I realize they were one and the same.
I can’t lose Cat. I can’t. “How do we finalize it?”
“Easy. In the beta cases, the license is being honored. Complete the second step, and you’re good to go.”
“What’s the second step?”
“Getting married.”