But she couldn’t quite form the words. Hallbjorn might have been a lunatic, but he was still her husband—at least for a few more seconds, anyway. And deep down, she knew his heart was in the right place.
“I don’t think our marriage is at the forefront of his mind right now,” Aria answered glumly.
The noise of the VOID stamp hitting the paper was deafening. The woman asked Aria if she’d like to keep the license as a souvenir, and Aria reluctantly grabbed the paper through the slot and turned toward the door. “Hey,” she called, and Aria glanced over her shoulder. The clerk’s grumpy expression had lifted and softened. “You’ll get married when the time is right,” she said. “I work as a part-time psychic. I know these things.”
“Thanks,” Aria said. And for some crazy reason, it made her feel better.
She pulled her coat closely around her as she exited the courthouse. The air was turning bitter, and clouds were rolling in. It would probably be best if she got out of Atlantic City before it started to snow again. She looked up and down the boulevard. The casinos gleamed in the distance. The ocean roared beyond, filling the air with a salty scent. A few streets away, sirens wailed.
Aria reached into her purse and pulled out the defunct marriage license. Aria Marie Montgomery is married to Hallbjorn Fyodor Gunterson. Slowly, methodically, she tore it into lengthwise shreds until it was tiny pieces of confetti, not that different from the confetti that had rained down on her and Hallbjorn’s heads at the Chapel of Luv. She opened her palms and let the breeze pick up the shreds and blow them away. The bits drifted under cars, swirled into treetops, and whisked around corners, never to be seen again.
“Good-bye, Hallbjorn,” Aria muttered, knowing she’d never see him again, either.
Chapter 14
Blowin’ in the Wind
Aria had just paid the cabdriver and let herself into the garage at Ella’s house when she heard a rattling sound behind her. The Subaru was pulling up the driveway, Byron at the wheel. Meredith sat in the front passenger seat, and Mike climbed out of the back. When he saw Aria, he waved.
It took Aria a moment to wave back. The days had gotten away from her. She’d forgotten that Byron and Mike were returning from the Solstice trip this afternoon.
Byron spotted Aria in the garage, turned off the car, and climbed out. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”
“Uh, I was on a bike ride,” Aria answered, saying the first thing that came to mind.
Byron glanced at Aria’s bike, which was tucked behind some old tires and black plastic bags full of clothes meant for Goodwill. It was an obvious lie, but Aria was too tired to explain herself.
“Byron?” Meredith opened the car door. “Would it be weird if I used the bathroom here? If I don’t pee I’m going to burst.”
Byron looked at Aria for permission, and she shrugged and gestured toward the door that led to the house—the last thing she wanted to see was Meredith bursting. Meredith elbowed past, taking butt-clenching steps and practically diving headfirst into the powder room.
The rest of them headed inside, too. Byron remained in the laundry room, seeming a bit hesitant to enter his old house. Mike, on the other hand, barreled into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “There’s no food,” he whined. “What did you eat this whole week, Aria? And why is it so frickin’ cold in here?”
“It is cold in here.” Byron walked across the kitchen and peered at the thermostat. “The power didn’t go out, did it?”
Aria hung up her coat on a hook by the washer so she didn’t have to look her dad in the eye. “I just turned down the heat for a few days. I was trying to save electricity.”
“That’s a very noble cause, especially during Solstice time.” A regretful look fell over Byron’s features. “It’s really too bad you missed our celebration, Aria. We did the most amazing nature walks. And burning the Yule log was truly magical. A lot of the other guests joined in the festivities, and we all really bonded.”
Mike, who was drinking orange juice out of the carton, let out a cross between a choke and a cough. Aria caught his eye, and he made a pained face.
“Of course, I wish Mike would’ve spent more time outdoors with us instead of watching television.” Byron glanced at his son and shook his head.
“But then I would have missed the biggest news story ever!” Mike set the OJ container on the island, switched on the little TV in the corner, and turned the channel to CNN. “Did you hear about this, Aria? The panthers?”
Aria ran her tongue over her teeth. “Uh, no,” hoping she sounded convincing.
“Check it out.” Mike pointed at the screen. It was a shot of the Borgata lobby. Police cars were parked under the covered drive. Biedermeister and Bitschi hovered nervously near the bar, talking on their cell phones. Panthers Still on the Loose, the banner said at the bottom.
“Panthers got loose in Atlantic City,” Mike explained. “It’s caused this mass panic.”