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“Maybe a little. I’m also really glad you’re here.” He eased her duffel off her shoulder and placed both beside the long, low black leather sofa. “Want a drink?”
“Is that your solution to everything?”
“It used to be,” he answered honestly. “But I’ve been dry since after we got married. I meant liquid, non-alcoholic. You know, in case you’re thirsty.”
“Sorry.” She grasped her throat and didn’t move. “I’m extra touchy today.”
“Well, that sounds fun.”
The slightest hint of a smile curved her mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”
“About the whole marriage thing. It occurs to me I never showed you this.” He withdrew his wallet and flipped it open. “I was waiting for a good time, and then I forgot. But you haven’t seen it, and you should.” He pulled out the folded white piece of paper that had knocked his world on its ear a week ago. “Make copies if you’d like. Have them verified by Johnnie Cochran or some such.”
“I think he’s dead.”
“Oh. Too bad.”
She took the paper and read it silently, chewing on her lower lip. “So that’s how you found my address.”
“Yeah. Phone number wasn’t much help though.”
Seeing her smile made all his annoyance at the fake number seem like it was insignificant. Now it was. In only a week’s time, they’d come a long way.
At least they could tell the grandchildren they’d known each other for years, and it wouldn’t be a lie. Exactly.
Wait, what? What grandchildren? Getting married by accident was one thing. But accidental procreation? All right, you could do that too, but it was totally a different kettle of diapers when little people were involved.
“Thank God I stopped drinking,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair.
Chloe handed back the marriage license. “What did you say? By the way, I’d like a copy of that.”
“Sure. Coming right up once I have a home office and a scanner. Or else we go to Kinko’s. That name always sounded dirty to me.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Are you okay?”
“Yep, fine. Never better. Let me grab you a drink.” And me a reality check. “Be right back.”
“Do you have diet Co—oh yeah, you hate Coke. Fudge.”
“Fudge? If you’re going to live with me, honey, I should warn you. Only actual swear words allowed.”
“I’m not living with you. This is just temporary until I get my feet back under me—” She pressed her lips together as if she’d said too much. “What kind of soda you have?”
“Dr. Pepper and grape. Lots of Dr. Pepper. I have this thing for spicy flavors lately. So weird.”
She flushed. “I’ll take that, please. Thank you.”
“Gotcha. Be right back.”
In the kitchen, he poured Dr. Pepper into two glasses of ice. His mother’s insistence on always serving company tea cookies on a tray had him opening the cupboard and taking out the box of Girl Scout cookies he kept for that purpose. Not that he’d actually ever served cookies to anyone. Like who? His mangy bandmates? Right. Not happening.
He blew off the layer of dust on the box and took out a couple of lemon cookies to arrange on the plate on the counter. His mother would be proud.
Taking a bite of cookie, he cocked his head. Tasted okay. Didn’t smell funny. Probably fine.
Maybe the sweets would get Chloe to start talking.
He wanted to ask questions. Lots of questions. Like why she seemed to be barely holding on to her composure, and why her fingers shook every time she fiddled with her hair. Hair she’d forgotten to tie back for once. Maybe she’d tell him what was going on if he gave her space. Demanding never seemed to get him anywhere.
