Page 165 of The Home Grown
“I … thanks, I guess. I mean. You’re right. You don’t owe me anything.”
He turns away and hurries towards a filing cabinet in the corner of the room, pulling open the second drawer and flicking through the tab dividers.
“This is yours,” he says, turning back towards me, handing me a brown envelope. “It’s your wedding certificate.”
“My—”
“I guess I thought it would be funny to see how this played out. Fun to watch Ellie panic … send her on a chase for something that didn’t exist, but—I’m sorry.”
Well, fuck me.
“You really are a prick, you know that, right?”
But he says nothing to that. He can’t. He knows I’m right.
“And I’ll see what I can do about the money. I don’t have a lot of spare cash … I mean… but I’ll see what I can do.”
We stare at each other for a moment, tense air between us. Then I slide the envelope into the pocket of my hoodie and get the hell out of there.
Chapter Thirty-Four
BETTSY
Johnny’s been readingover the document for a long-two minutes, and I’ve been pacing in the space between the living room and the kitchen while I wait for the verdict.
No matter how many times I look at it, I can’t work it out.
“Hmm,” he says.
“Hmm?” I ask. “What does that mean? What do you think?”
I stop pacing and look at him, desperate for his assessment.
“Well,” he says. “I guess we should take this to a lawyer. Get them to check it over.”
Damn. I was afraid of that.
“Do you think it’s real?” I ask. “Because I get a weird feeling about Greg and if he lied to Ellie once before then?—”
“I can’t be sure, but then again, I’ve never seen a wedding certificate before.”
“But you must have a vague idea?” I ask. “Come on, Cap. Give me something.”
I walk over to the sofa and flop down, pulling a cushion from under my head and pulling it down over my face so I can scream into the fabric.
“I can’t say for certain, but itlookslegit. And that looks like your signature.”
I clocked it too. The memory didn’t hit me at once. It came slow, foggy at first—then sharp enough to slap me in the face.
I toss the cushion aside and turn to face Johnny.
“I don’t think I can tell her until I know for sure. I think it’ll cause more worry, and she seems to be in a good place now—with work and all that. The last thing I want to do is ruin things.”
“I get that,” Johnny says, slipping the paper back into the envelope and handing it over. “So?—”
“So, do you know any decent family solicitors?” I ask.
“What do you think?”
