Chapter 23
Gracyn
I fidget in my seat and wait.
Today is the day I put Brooks behind me.
The day I regain my single status.
The day I get my life back. I’ll no longer be married to the billionaire . The paparazzi can finally leave me alone. They’re straight-up horrible human beings. They’ve relentlessly harassed me ever since that photo of me dancing with that guy spread across the internet.
Charli puts her hand on my shoulder and whispers from behind, “It’ll be over soon. Hang in there.”
I nod without looking back. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. Maybe embarrassed is a better word. I’ve known the judge since I could walk. My attorney, or rather my mom , felt I could handle this on my own. It’s not like Brooks’s attorney will contest anything. In other words, she wants me to experience all the humiliation that comes with making irresponsible choices.
Even though I can’t remember making that choice.
The heavy wooden courtroom door opens, and I twist in my seat, expecting to see Brooks’s attorney enter. However, to my surprise, it’s familiar hazel eyes that meet mine. He smiles, and that damn smile of his sends a flurry of emotions through me. He wasn’t supposed to be here. I watch as he strides down the center aisle, showing no signs of nervousness.
I rise to my feet as he approaches. Awkwardly, my arms dangle to my sides, and then I cross them, unable to decide what to do with them. A snicker comes from Charli, and I shoot her a glare to stop making fun of me.
“Gracyn,” Brooks’s deep voice murmurs.
I rub my glossed lips together. “He lives.” We both chuckle at the same time. “You said you weren’t coming.”
He lifts his fingers, and they tug on my side braid. “You look gorgeous,” he replies, ignoring my question. “I was hoping you would’ve looked like you were mourning a loss.”
“What? You thought I’d be in sweats and an oversized shirt with a pint of ice cream?” After the week I had, this day couldn’t come faster. “You think highly of yourself,” I tease.
“Someone has to,” he says, and his playful demeanor shifts to something more reluctant. “There’s a reason I came. I wanted to talk to you before this, but my plane was late this morning.”
“About what?”
He draws in a deep breath and exhales sharply. “I’d like us to give this a real chance.”
What? My mind races, struggling to find words because at this moment, there are none.
“Now?” My eyes dart around the room in panic, and I shake my head. “You’re telling me this at the eleventh hour and expect me to give you an answer right now?” I question with disbelief in my voice.
The past week has been a nightmare. Countless articles labeled me a cheater and a gold digger. I’ve had to hide out at my mom’s house until this all dies down.
“I can’t. I can’t do this.” I storm past him, pushing the wooden door open and step into the hallway to catch my breath. Why did he do this right now?
I quickly whip my head around when the door opens behind me, and I shoot daggers at the doorway. He could at least give me a minute.
Instead, Charli walks out with a concerned expression. “You okay? I overheard.”
“No,” I say, honestly. “My mind is so scattered, there’s no way I can answer him in five seconds. My brain keeps telling me that there is a zero chance this could work. You read the horrible things people were saying about me, and that was from one photo.” My voice rises an octave higher with each word until people stare. I force myself to whisper. “But every time he’s standing in front of me, my heart beats faster. Things get all tingly, and I can’t stop smiling.” I take a few steps, shaking out my hands, and then turn back. “Okay. I need to get this over with. I can’t have another week like I did last week.”
We return to the courtroom just as the judge is entering. He gives me an irritated scowl as I rush down the aisle to get to my table. He sits and wrestles with some papers before raising his eyes.
“ Court is now in session .”
I’ve heard those words a million times. Growing up, I sat on the back bench, listening to my dad during his cases, yet hearing them today burdens my chest with a crushing two-ton weight. My mom knew what she was doing by making me come.
Add to that the enormous elephant in the room, towering five feet from me, wanting more, I’m teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown. My fingers tremble as I clench them into a fist under the table. I need to calm down.
The judge asks us a couple of formal questions. We answer with an easy “yes” or “no.” This will be his easiest case of the day. Neither of us are contesting it. The judge sighs, bows his head to read something and then glances back up, his eyes looking over the rim of his readers, bouncing between me and Brooks. I fixate straight ahead, afraid if I look over at Brooks, I’ll lose it.
The judge looks to Brooks. “Mr. Handley, you live in New York, correct?”
“Yes, your Honor.”
“Why didn’t you send your attorney in your place?”
My head snaps at him. Don’t tell him, I plead with my eyes. Don’t tell him it’s because you want to try.
“I … um.” Brooks stares at me for a moment before turning to the judge.
“I imagine you’re a busy man, being CEO of a large company. And as you’ve mentioned in the complaint, you didn’t know Graycn Carmichael until just over a month and a half ago. Most men in your position wouldn’t bother showing up at a court date to admit they made such an enormous mistake. Especially when they can afford an attorney.”
Brooks lets out an awkward laugh and then clears his throat. “You are absolutely right, Your Honor. I am a busy man, but this mistake is ours, and I owed it to Gracyn to be here. I didn’t intend for her to shoulder the responsibility alone of correcting this wrong.”
Of course, his answer is perfect. The judge’s lips quirk up as he gazes down, reading whatever is in front of him again. I exhale with relief, realizing I’m moments away from no longer being married. My eyes remain locked on the judge’s hand, anticipating the sound of the gavel.
But then he looks up, takes off his readers, and folds his hands before him.
“Standing before me, claiming this was a mistake, is a mockery of the institution of marriage. Both of you made a choice and a commitment, and I don’t believe that it was made under duress or manipulation.”
It could have! I just don’t remember!
“Your Honor, we were both?—”
The judge raises his hand with a stern expression, halting my objection.
“Ms. Carmichael, I’m aware. But truthfully, I’m growing weary of individuals assuming they can dissolve a marriage they entered on a whim because they imagined it would be fun, only to awaken with regrets.”
I turn my head and over my shoulder mouth, “ What’s happening ?” to Charli. Her wide-eyed expression is as confused as I am. My mom told me I had nothing to worry about.
Well, I’m worried.
I fly out of my seat, pounding my palms on the table. “You can’t force us to stay married. This is absurd.”
“What’s absurd is that two grown adults ended up in a situation like this,” he retorts, his glare fierce. I want to cry, but I blink back my tears. “And you’re right, I can’t. But I can prolong the dissolution to make sure this is what everyone wants. In three months, we’ll reconvene.”
No!
Don’t hit the gavel.
Not now.
The echo of the hit vibrates in my chest.
It’s over.
And I’m still married.
What. The. Actual. Hell?
Once the judge exits the courtroom, I bolt toward the door that leads to his office without a glance toward Brooks. The officer waves me through, his eyes softening as his lips press into a faint, almost apologetic line.
“George, why are you doing this?” I say, barging into his office. The man I’ve known since I was five gestures for me to sit, as if expecting me. Though I’d rather keep standing, I reluctantly sit on the uncomfortable navy blue chair opposite his desk and cross my legs. “Have you seen the tabloids? They’ve made my life a living hell. This needs to end.”
“I deal with these cases daily,” he says, hanging up his robe and then taking a seat. “Never have I received, not one, but two letters asking me to not grant the annulment.”
He holds up a plain white manila folder. My eyes widen as I sit up taller. Who would request something like this, and why would the judge even entertain their plea? This is unfounded, and when my dad hears what he’s done, he’ll be livid.
“There’s usually a grain of truth in the tabloids. And I did see them. I saw the way you guys look at each other. No matter how you fight it, it’s genuine. I believe it deserves a bit more time for you two to explore before reaching a final decision.”
“With all due respect, that’s not for you to decide,” I protest.
He responds with a nonchalant shrug that irritates me even more. “In my courtroom, it is.”
I groan, standing up. It’s clear he won’t change his mind. “Who are the letters from?”
“I’ll read them to you at your next court date.”
“This is ridiculous. I don’t even remember getting married,” I whine like a five-year-old, dropping my arms by my side. “You know you’re going to hear from my mom.”
He laughs, his head bobbing in agreement. “I have no doubt. But I think she’s going to agree with me on this one.”
I hate that he’s right. She’ll get a kick out of this. But this decision isn’t theirs to make. It’s mine and Brooks’s.
As soon as I step off the elevator, I spot Brooks sitting alone on a wooden bench in the narrow hallway on the first floor. The letters come to mind, and I storm over to him. “Did you have something to do with this?” I blurt out, narrowing my eyes at him.
He looks up from his phone, confused. “With what?”
“Did you write a letter? I mean, Brooks, no matter how bad you want this to work, it’s not going to.” I pace in front of him, my frustration bubbling over. He’s proven he can’t stay away from me, and now he’s going to force me to stay married to him. It suddenly clicks. “Did you pay him off?” I stop and stare at him. “That’s the only reason he’d take your side over mine.”
“You’re accusing me of paying off a judge?” he responds, his eyes wide in disbelief. “I think this is asinine. I sure in the hell don’t want to stay married to a woman who doesn’t want to. My attorney is already drafting a response to the unprofessionalism of that judge. And what letter?”
This is pointless. I turn around to leave, but his words stop me in my tracks.
“And you think I’m full of myself? You think I’d manipulate a woman to stay married to me? Fucking, please. I’m not that hard up. I like you, Gracyn, but not that damn much. Fuck! I can’t keep you, but now I can’t get rid of you. Worst case of purgatory ever,” he says, storming off down the hallway.
Good job, Gray. Way to make a bad situation worse.
I sink onto the bench, the wooden seat groaning under my weight. Why did Brooks even bother showing up? If his attorney had come, we would be single again.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and I grab it to find a message from my mom asking how it went. I type a response through tear-blurred vision.
Me: Still married.