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I turn it on and see an email sitting in my private inbox.
This is weird, because I specifically told Chris, the intern who’s doubling as my personal assistant, not to forward me any work emails while I’m off. The inbox should have remained empty until I returned to work after this Vegas trip.
Apparently, though, Chris thought this was either urgent or didn’t count as a “work email.” Maybe it’s time to hire a new personal assistant.
Intrigued, I open the email. Embarrassingly, my heart does a little flip as I see who it’s from.
Tessa Elliott.
I open the email with bated breath. It’s short, and only takes me a minute to read.
Hi,
We need to get this situation fixed. I’m sure you’re as eager as I am to make it all go away.
You don’t need to worry. I don’t want any of your money. I just want the marriage annulled, and to move on with my life. It was a silly, drunken mistake, and I’m sure you feel exactly the same.
If you can liaise with me, and let me know what steps we need to take to get this fixed, that would be great.
T
P.S. I don’t need to see you, we can just communicate via email. The last thing I want is to have to deal with crowds of tabloid press following me everywhere I go.
Liaise? Damn, this thing reads like a fucking business email, not something from my wife.
No way, I decide, can we just leave it like this. I had one of the best nights of my life last night, and I’m not about to just let that go without even trying to make it work.
I type up my response.
Some of the best decisions in my life have been made when I’m drunk. I’m not doing anything until we talk about this. In person.
I add my work cell number to the bottom of the email, and within seconds she calls me. I pick up with trembling fingers.
Damn, how did this girl get her hooks so deep into me after just one night?
“What do you want from me?” She sounds pissed.
We’re off to a good start, then.
“Nothing at all,” I reply. “If you truly want to ditch me, I won’t stand in your way. I just feel like . . . well, last night meant something to me. You mean something to me, and I won’t just destroy that without even trying. So, meet me, we can talk about things, and then decide what to do.”
“I’d really rather not.” She sighs deeply. “Look, Luke, I had a good time last night, I really did. I’m sure you’re a great guy. But we don’t even know each other. I’ve got a new job, I need to leave Vegas, and I just don’t have the time or energy to make this any more complicated than it needs to be. Help me out here, please?”
I mull it over, but I just can’t let her slip away this easily.
“Sorry,” I say, “but no deal. You know, they say communication is the most important thing in a marriage.”
It’s a bad joke, but I just can’t help myself. She just hangs up on me.
Great, real smooth, idiot.
Tessa
I feel like crap. And my surroundings aren’t helping.
I’m sitting in the waiting room of a lawyer’s office. It’s a poky little space, with a bored looking receptionist playing with her phone. A sad, dying little plant sits beside her desk.
Faded photographs hang on the walls of the lawyers with various “celebrity” clients (none of whom I recognize). It’s fair to say that this isn’t the most illustrious of lawyers, but he offers free initial consultations, and free is all I can afford right now.
I gulp as I imagine the army of lawyers that my husband likely has access to, and just hope he doesn’t have any need to use them.
I’ve got a headache, I feel bloated as all hell, and all the temple massaging in the world isn’t helping matters any. My period is due, so maybe it’s just a touch of PMS?
Before I have any more time to dwell on it, the door at the back of the room opens and the lawyer beckons me in.
He looks a little run down, and his cheap suit has certainly seen better days, but he has kind eyes and ushers me into his little office quietly and gently.
“So,” he says, “what can I help you with?”
I take a deep breath and fill him in on the situation, taking care to point out that it’s really out of character for me, and that I don’t usually marry strangers in a drunken stupor.
He smiles and holds up his hands. “Hey, there’s no judgement here. I’m just here to help you out and get this fixed for you.”
He looks over the papers I brought with me and thinks for a few moments.
