Chapter 16
Thirty minutes later, my shades are on, my headache has dialed down to dull, thanks to the aspirin, and I slide into a cool, air-conditioned car that takes us to a strip mall.
We don’t talk the entire ride. I don’t even know what to say.
She doesn’t seem to want to engage, either.
Maybe I pissed her off with my tricked me comment.
Or maybe she’s just got a mother of hangover headaches, too.
We park in front of Easy Out Divorce.
A thirty-something man with a diamond earring and a striped purple shirt strides out to greet us. He shakes hands gregariously, ushers us into his bare-bones office with a metal desk, and walks us through the process with a cheerful demeanor.
Natalie shakes her head. “We need the full-service package. We’re flying back now.”
He snaps his fingers, awareness dawning.
“Right, right. We talked about that on the phone this morning. You’re the New Yorkers.
” He claps his big hands together. “We’ll need to kick this up a notch and do it all for you.
We’ll prep the joint annulment, file it, and pay the court fees.
” He makes a swooping gesture with his hand.
“Then, we pick up the annulment decree signed by the judge.” Now, he mimes signing a paper.
“And all that is only $799. You can pay a deposit and make payments, or pay it all now. What sounds good to you?”
“Payments,” Natalie says at the same time as I declare, “Pay it all now.”
The dude’s eyes widen, and he holds up his hands as if to say keep me out of this.
“I’d rather make payments,” Natalie says in a quiet but firm voice.
“I got this.” I grab my credit card from my wallet.
She grits her teeth then speaks in a low hiss to me, “I think we can both pay the cost of the annulment, Wyatt.”
“No need. I’ll take care of it.”
“I want to split the fee.” Each word from her is a bite. “And if we keep fighting about this, it’s going to make my headache return.”
Ditto, so I’m not going to belabor this point. Nor I am going to give in to her “let’s go Dutch on a divorce” stance. “We just need to get it done, Nat. Stop arguing, and we can deal with it later.”
She crosses her arms as I hand the guy my card and tell him, “The whole shebang.”
He takes the payment, tells us where to sign on the dotted line, and says he’ll keep us posted. “Congratulations on getting un-married,” he says with a smile and a wave.
As we leave, Natalie gives me a stare. “What was that all about? Why do you get to pay for it?”
“Because it was my mistake.”
“Ah. Right. Of course.” She lingers on those words then shoots me a steely stare.
“So back in the hotel, I might have tricked you? But now it’s your mistake?
” I start to answer, but she gives me no room to speak as she moves closer, getting in my face.
“Maybe I wanted to pay to undo it, too. You’re not the only one who made a mistake. ”
“That’s not what I meant,” I say as I open the door for her.
“Well, what did you mean?”
“Look,” I say as I follow her into the car and the driver pulls out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I suggested we get married. I’m sorry the whole night was a mess. I’m sorry for everything. The least I can do is pay for it, though.”
She closes her eyes like this pains her. “Now, I’m really sorry.” Her voice is quiet, defeated.
I’ve no clue how we went from having the night of our lives to bickering like an old married couple. Oh, right. We got married. That’s how. We did something unbearably stupid. But at least we can unravel that big mistake. “Look, the sooner this is over the better, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“And it’ll be over soon. Like the guy said.” As the car rolls along the highway, I try to lighten the mood. “Hey, I guess the saying really is true. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. We’ll go back to New York with a clean slate. It’ll be just like last night never happened.”
“It sure will,” she says through tight lips as she turns to stare out the window for the rest of the ride.
We don’t say much on the flight home. Or on the drive into Manhattan. When we reach her apartment, I clear my throat.
But what am I supposed to say? Thanks for the lovely memories of a beautiful night I’ll never forget?
I can't say that, though. Things are strained between us, but it’s for the best because we can’t be together.
Instead, I use my best professional voice. “See you at the office.”
She gives a cursory wave good-bye, and I head home and sleep off the rest of my bad decisions until Monday morning comes and I have to face her again.