Page 77 of Always Been You
But as I walk away, one thought lingers in my mind.
I have to tell Eddie.
And I have no idea how he’s going to react, but before that, I will just have to pick up the divorce certificate.
Chapter Thirty
Lawliss
I push open the heavy glass doors of the Jefferson County Clerk’s Office, the air inside thick with the scent of paper and printer ink.
The first thing I see is Dzifa, standing in line toward the marriage license section. I raise a brow, making a beeline for her.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
She barely glances at me, her expression unreadable. “Saving someone’s ass. You?”
“Here for my divorce certificate.”
“About time. Congrats, yeah.” She nods toward my hand, eyes dropping to the ring.
I had messaged her after leaving the hospital about the engagement and the pregnancy. And to say she was pissed that I didn’t tell her immediately? Understatement of the century. It took hours of pleading, begging, and letting her lecture me like I was a child before she finally calmed down.
Before I can say anything, someone calls her name.
“Dzifa!”
She pecks my cheek quickly. “I’ll talk to you later.” Then she’s gone, disappearing deeper into the office. I shake my head. Whatever she’s up to, I’ll deal with it later. Right now, I have my own business to handle.
I approach the records section, where a woman in a navy cardigan sits behind the counter. She barely looks up.
“Name?”
“Lawliss Dua.”
Her fingers clack against the keyboard. “And what are we looking for today, ma’am?”
“A copy of my divorce certificate with Derrick Maddox.”
That makes her look up, scanning me with mild interest. She definitely heard about my situation, considering it was on National television and in newspapers
“ID ? Please?” She asks, slightly adjusting herself to look presentable. Yeap, she knows.
I slide it across the counter. More typing. A pause. More typing, then her brows knit together.
“Huh.”
I lean in slightly. “What?”
She tilts her screen away, shaking her head like that’ll somehow fix whatever she’s seeing.
“There’s no divorce record for you and Derrick Maddox.”
I blink. “That’s not possible. The divorce was filed on my behalf. I signed all necessary documents and it was finalized four months ago. Can you check again?”
She gets back to the computer and then starts typing again. A deep frown creases her face before her expression shifts from confusion to something else entirely.
“Wait a second.” She squints at the screen. “Oh.”
