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“Technically, yes. But I wouldn’t recommend an annulment. Grounds for annulment are very specific, and you have to prove they apply.”
“What are the grounds?” Scarlett asks.
“Fraud or misrepresentation, coercion, under the age of consent, incest, bigamy or polygamy, force or threat of force, mental incapacity—”
“He was so drunk he doesn’t remember marrying her,” Scarlett says. “Doesn’t that count as mental incapacity?”
“It’s better for Oliver if he’s the one petitioning. If he is, that means to file for an annulment on the grounds of mental incapacity because of alcohol, he’ll have to proveshemeets the definition of mental incapacity set by state law in the jurisdiction where he files.”
Asher lets out a long, overdone snore.
Jeremy rolls his eyes. “That will most likely require a hearing. And frankly, it’s hard to prove. Divorce will be quicker and easier, in my estimation.” He glances at me. “If you want me to represent you, I’m happy to. And you have my word it’ll stay private on our side. I don’t even have to involve a paralegal. But you could have any attorney you want. There are plenty of sharks out there who have decades of experience with high-profile divorces. You might be better off with one of them. Especially if Hannah decides to make anything difficult.”
“Which she probably will,” Asher comments.
I don’t realize I’m glaring until he shrugs and grabs his coffee cup from the table next to the couch. Of course, he’s not using one of the coasters.
“Fine.” Asher sighs. “I’ll be optimistic. She probably won’t try to get a few hundred million out of this, knowing you’re worth ten times that, and she has a good chance of getting half if she puts any effort into it.”
I’m not annoyed with Asher’s pessimism. I’m irritated he’s insulting Hannah. If she has a devious, underhanded side, I’ve never seen it.
And it feels wrong, listening to someone disparage the woman I’m married to. It doesn’t feel like we’re on adverse sides. It’s felt like we’re figuring this out together.
“The marriage was never…consummated,” I tell Jeremy. “Does that make any difference?”
“Legally, no. Not unless we wade into certain grounds or canon law, and it will be much cleaner to just file for divorce. You have the marriage license?”
I nod. “Not on me,” I lie.
It’s in my wallet, but revealing I’ve carried it around with me feels personal, somehow.
“You really don’t remember the wedding?” Jeremy asks.
“The whole night is hazy.”
“Probably drugs,” Asher says. “Vegas is wild. People put all sorts of shit in drinks.”
I’m not sure if the possibility should make me feel better or worse. It’s not a comforting explanation, but at least it’s one.
Asher’s phone buzzes. “It’s Crew,” he says, squinting at the screen. Then he laughs. “He wants to know if I’ll get him coffee on the way into work. His fridge is full of plant liquid.”
Scarlett shrugs. “If he forgot to put cow milk on the grocery list, that’s his fault.”
“Where does he think you are?” Asher asks, typing a response to Crew.
“A textiles meeting in SoHo. It’s his morning with Lili.”
Jeremy stands. “I’ve got to go finish drafting a contract.” He glances at me. “Think it over and let me know how I can help, Oliver.”
“I will.” I stand too, walking over and shaking his hand. “Thanks, Jeremy. I really appreciate it.”
Jeremy nods and leaves. Asher heads out right after him, still on his phone, tossing a “Good luck” over one shoulder. Scarlett picks up her handbag and prepares to leave as well.
“Have you spoken to Hannah since you left Vegas?”
“Just once, about our attorneys.”
I lie again, and I’m not sure why.
