We all stood and moved toward the door while the obnoxious lyrics continued to play. The entire walk, my chest tightened and my blood pressure spiked. My hands shook with adrenaline—the thought of receiving fifty grand was like an EpiPen straight to the heart. I had zero desire to get married, at least anytime soon.
I’d just graduated from college with a degree I’d never planned to use in real life, but had received my diploma because my parents promised to pay for school and all living expenses as long as I attended and made good grades. They never once said I had to pick a practical major. So at twenty-three, I was the proud owner of a business degree. I’d gotten the looks from my dad, and they hadn’t gone unnoticed. They’d paid for five years of education for me to learn how to own my own business. Basically, the same things as spending five years taking lectures on how to ride a bike. But I didn’t care, because I went to college and earned a degree, and that was all that mattered.
And here I was, about to pick out a wedding ring to get married to a guy I barely knew just to make money. I’d say my degree paid off.
When we walked into the other room, we found a man in a tuxedo standing behind a jewelry counter. As I approached, the light reflecting off the brilliant diamonds nearly blinded me, and all I could think about was how at the end of this, I could hock the ring for even more money. It’d come in handy for the actual business I wanted to start.
“Which one do you like?” Connor whispered in my ear.
“Honestly, I don’t care.” And I didn’t, because this wasn’t real to me. And I knew it wasn’t real to him, either. Not for the first time since this whole thing started, I found myself grateful Connor was deemed my soul mate. I would’ve felt awful had they paired me with someone who sincerely wanted a relationship out of this.
Not wasting any time, Connor pointed to the largest princess-cut solitaire with a matching band. Then it was my turn to pick his. Knowing I would benefit from the rings more than he would, I tried to locate the one with the most value, and chose the platinum band with five diamonds decorating the top. The man behind the counter—who hadn’t spoken a single word since we walked in—put the jewelry boxes in a fancy bag and handed it to Connor.
“So…what now?” he asked Larry. “We get married? Is that how this works?”
“You most certainly can if you want. But there’s no rush. You have one year to obtain a marriage license and complete the ceremony to claim the money. If you aren’t married—to each other—in three hundred sixty-five calendar days, then you both forfeit the prize.”
“We don’t need a year.” I tried to swallow down the attitude, but it was difficult. It annoyed me how he spoke to us, as if we needed to hear every single minute detail. We were ready to hop on a plane and tie the knot. Then get home and file for an annulment. Then count the Benjamins. “Just tell us what we need to do, and we’ll do it.”
“Well, first…you have to get a divorce.” His shit-eating grin made me want to throat punch him.
Connor and I both glanced at each other before turning back to Larry. “Divorce? Don’t we have to get married first?”
Larry chuckled and clucked his tongue like we were imbeciles. “I don’t mean a divorce from each other. I mean you, Janelle Brewer, must obtain a legal divorce from your husband.”
I balked and looked around the room, searching for the prankster about to jump out of a corner or something. This had to have been some sort of practical joke. I scoffed and said, “I’m not married.”
“That’s not what your marriage license says.”
The laughter died from my tone, and all I could do was stand and blink rapidly at Larry. I knew it was a bonus to capture the element of surprise on camera, but this was borderline ridiculous. “That has to be a mistake—maybe it’s someone else named Janelle Brewer. I’m sure I can’t be the only one with that name. I think I would know if I was married.”
“Well, when we spoke to your husband, he verified the validity of it.”
“My husband?” My voice didn’t even sound like mine. It came out too high pitched and squeaky.
“Yes, your husband.” He then pointed a small remote over my shoulder, all the while grinning obnoxiously. Out of nowhere, a recording played throughout the room. At the first sound of his voice, I grew lost in it, adrift in the deep waves I used to drown in. The same voice that used to comfort me.
The same voice I’d grown to loathe over the years, aware of the heartbreak it could cause.
“This is Holden York.”
“Mr. York, we just need to verify a few details. We have it that you married Janelle Brewer in July of twenty-twelve in Las Vegas, Nevada. Is that correct?”
A rush of air hit the recording seconds before he said, “Yes, that’s correct.”
“And since then, has the marriage been annulled or dissolved in any way?”
“No. We’re still married.”
More of the recording played around me, but I couldn’t listen to it. Emotions I couldn’t comprehend slammed into me. Anger shook within my chest, while pain and fear knotted in my belly. I knew what he was capable of. And I knew I couldn’t go through it again.
My heart fell to the pit of my stomach, and then the floor opened beneath me. I dropped to my knees in some dramatic, slow-motion stumble, perfect for TV had this not contained the crushing blow of real life. I just sat there, staring off into the distance, desperately trying to absorb the information Larry had just dumped in my lap.
Five years ago…
Vegas…
Holden York…
I didn’t even remember giving him my virginity, but apparently, I’d given him more than that.
And this whole time, he knew.
He knew, and he never told me.
There was only one thing left for me to do…get divorced.
2
Janelle
I shook my arms and took a few deep breaths while I fought to compose myself. I couldn’t believe after all these years I’d find myself standing in front of Holden’s house, the same one he’d bought after graduating from college.
As I stood there, I could almost remember it all like it was yesterday. How we’d gone from being close friends and familiar with one another to ultimate strangers. At the time, I had no idea how to fix it, and now, five years later, I didn’t even know how to talk to him.
I’d rung the bell when I first stepped up to the door, but he hadn’t answered yet, and I started to wonder if he was even home since I’d been waiting for so long. Then again, with all the adrenaline running through me, it could’ve only been five seconds, even though it felt more like five years. Rather than ring the bell again, I knocked—probably a little too impatiently based on the way Holden yanked the door open.