Page 5 of Til Divorce Do Us Start

I blink, stunned. “Effort?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, and I can practically hear him rubbing the back of his neck. “Regularly seeing each other. Living together. Making it look like you’re actually giving this a shot.”

I stare into the distance, disbelief crashing over me like a second wave.

“And just for the record,” he adds, clearing his throat like a man trying to remember heisan attorney, “I don’t know what happened between you two, but... the judge doesn’t want to sign off on a quickie divorce if it looks like a total joke.”

Oh, the irony. No one would ever guess Alex just came from a tequila-fueled wedding night and is now quoting legal policy like he’s in court.

Trying to make it work?

I look at the phone like it personally betrayed me.

“God, this has to be a nightmare,” I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. My voice is tight, like the words are fighting to stay inside. Then I pause. “Have you talked to ... her about it?”

“I think you can handle telling yourwifethat you two are, you know... actually married.”I grit my teeth. “Don’t you dare call her that. Noelle will never be that.”

“The law disagrees.”

“The law doesn’t know her! It was a drunken mistake!” I nearly say she is too, I want to say it, it’s right on my tongue, but it would be me throwing a fit.

She’s going to make my life hell. And the second I tell her we’re married, she’ll lose it—Iknowshe’ll blame me, swear I did it just to mess with her. She’ll think it’s some twisted punishment. Honestly, she’ll probably think thatno matter whatI say.

If she’s going to come at me like a rabid animal, then I’ve got no choice—I have to be the sane one. The adult. The calm voice of reason in a hurricane of wild accusations and flying sarcasm.

God help me.

“Me and Trish are on our way,” Alex finally says. “And Noelle will arrive soon.”

“Great, really great…” I say, then hang up.

I finish taking care of a few things and glance around my apartment, trying to calm the frustration slowly building in my chest. It’s a three-bedroom, upscale place—modern, sleek. It would be worth millions if it were in New York or California. There’s a full chef’s kitchen, a spacious living room, even a backyard since I’m on the ground floor. It’s everything I’ve ever needed. Everything I chose forme.

And now, thanks to one drunken disaster and a stack of legal paperwork, I have a sinking feeling I’m going to be forced to share it. Which I havezerointention of doing.

I’m sure she doesn’t want to be here any more than I want her here, which means this whole thing is just a formality. A legal hiccup we’ll get through. If we have to keep up appearances, fine—I’ll escort her to a couple work events, have dinner with her once a week, smile when needed, nod when required. Then we sign the papers and go our separate ways.

Noelle isn’t completely unreasonable...mostof the time. Except when she’s drunk.

So, step one: remove all alcohol from the house. I’m not letting tequila be the reason I end up with a broken TV or an arrest record.

Before I can do that, there’s a knock on my door. I walk over, open it and see Alex, Trish, then Noelle. Her dress is modern, wrapped around her neck with a sash. The peach color highlights her tanned skin her brown hair is straight, brushing the top of her breasts as she glowers at me.

Fuck, why does anger look ... hot on her?Not nearly as attractive as my memories of her moaning, begging for more, pulling me tighter against her, but still.

She walks around me like I’m air—not a six-foot-something wall of muscle standing in the middle of the entryway, butnothing. Like I’m invisible. As if I’m not even worth the effort of a glance. The others follow her in, laughter trailing behind them like everything’s fine.

“I don’t like this, Trish,” I hear Noelle whisper.

“You got yourself into it. Who knows, maybe it’s fate,” Trish says gently, rolling her eyes as if she’s already been over this. At least I don’t have to break the news.

I look at Alex and he pats my shoulder. “We can talk this out for as long as you’d like, but ...”

“But,” I say with a nod.

It’s clear. Noelle and I are stuck together for three months and there’s no avoiding it. That’s what all this comes down to no matter what arguing goes on, no matter what back and forth takes place.

“We can live separate lives and just ... see each other in public once a week,” Noelle says as if she’d rather have her nails pulled off than spend time with me. “It’ll satisfy the judge right?”

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