“I’m sorry,” Chandler said carefully. “You’ve done what?”
“I have proposed marriage.”
“To Belle . . . I mean, Ms Blythe?” Geoffrey clarified.
“Yes.”
Chandler pushed off the credenza. “I was gone for four hours.”
“It is not romantic,” I said.
“What other reason is there to get married?” Chandler replied.
Geoffrey’s voice was calm. “May I, as well, inquire as to the rationale, sir?”
“She is injured,” I said. “Significantly enough to impair mobility.”
“We observed the limp,” Geoffrey said.
“She lacks insurance.”
That landed. Chandler’s expression shifted first. “She told you that?”
“Yes.”
“She plays that roller derby without insurance?” Chandler asked.
“Yes,” I said, trying to bite back the growl that nearly accompanied the word. “She also resides in her van.”
Geoffrey’s jaw tightened subtly. “You have confirmed this.”
“Yes.”
Chandler ran a hand over his mouth. “And your solution is marriage.”
“Yes.”
“For the insurance plan?” Chandler asked carefully.
“Yes.”
I didn’t like the smile that was playing at the corner of Chandler’s mouth.
“Enough. I don’t need the judgment from you two. I just need you to get the paperwork.”
Silence stretched. Geoffrey spoke first. “With respect, sir . . . this is unconventional.”
“It is efficient.”
“It is legally binding,” Chandler countered.
“I am aware,” I glared at him
Geoffrey tilted his head slightly. “Do you intend this to be temporary?”
“Yes. We’ll draw up the paper. We’ll be married for six months.”
They both studied me for a long moment.
