Page 49 of Risk of a Lifetime
“But I never signed them.”
“We’re wasting time here.” He turned to walk to the kitchen. Stopped. Something in her words jabbed him like a knife and twisted. He pivoted back to face her. “What the hell did you say?”
“I never signed the papers.” Her face flushed, her chin issued an occasional quiver, and she blinked. “Never filed them. So we’re…we’re—”
“Still married?”
Biting on her bottom lip, she nodded.
Sonofabitch. Damittohell. And every other curse word he’d ever used struggled not to come out of his mouth. “Me? You and me are still married?”
“Yes, JB. We’re still married.” She dumped the envelope’s contents on the corner desk, then rummaged in the drawer and came up empty-handed. “Don’t worry. I’ll file the papers tomorrow.”
What? What did she mean don’t worry? His whole world had just stopped with a magnitude eight earthquake hitting his epicenter. They were still married. Him. Her. This wasn’t good. Not good on so many levels. So worry was exactly what he intended to do.
“Maybe I’m being a little slow on the uptake, but how did this happen?” He raked his hand through his hair. “Did you get busy with a hair appointment? Or shopping? Or maybe you just forgot where you put the envelope.”
“Trust me, I didn’t forget.” She raised her chin in defiant rebuttal. “Like I said, I’ll file the papers tomorrow.”
File them tomorrow? She’d file them tomorrow. Hell, by this time tomorrow, they’d probably be dead or fighting for their lives. He started to laugh. Couldn’t stop himself. Laughed louder. She was going to file the divorce papers tomorrow…then what? Have a pedicure?
“Don’t you think that’s a little late, Marcy?”
“Stop laughing. This is serious.”
“Damn right this is serious.” He grabbed her shoulders, turning her toward him. “Why the hell didn’t you finalize the divorce when I sent the paperwork back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not good enough. Why?”
“Because I couldn’t believe you signed the papers.” She wiggled out of his hold. “Why did you sign them?”
“You sent them. I signed them.”
She shoved her hands against his chest. “As you said a while ago, not good enough.”
Covering her hands with his own, realization of this situation began to set in. “Because that’s what you wanted, Marcy. I always gave you what you wanted. You wouldn’t have sent the papers if you hadn’t really wanted the divorce.”
She jerked her hands away. “Not fair. That’s not fair.”
“Fair? You want to talk about fair?” He kicked the tote bag across the living room. Sure he’d never received the final divorce decree, but he’d figured those papers were waiting for him somewhere. “For over a year, I’ve believed I’m a divorced man. Single. With all the rights and privileges that word implies. What if I’d remarried?”
Gripping her fingers in the front of his shirt, she shook the fabric with all her might, as her fisted hands bounced off his chest. “Did you? Did you get remarried?”
“No. No, I’m not married. Except to you, that is.”
Her fingers loosened, and she stepped aside.
He focused on what to say next. What not to say.
His marriage vows had been sacred to him. But once she sent the divorce papers, and he signed… Well, he hadn’t been a saint for damn sure. There’d been a lot of nights he’d searched for someone to take her place. None ever worked out in the light of day, though. Most hadn’t even worked out in a room’s darkness.
“I can’t believe I’ve been in town all this time and not so much as a hint at us still being married. Who else knows about this?”
That had to be what Sadie wanted to tell him back at the police station when Truman stopped her. The man would have realized that by JB knowing they were still married, it put another level of pressure on the whole survival gig. Anger he’d had from her divorcing him was null and void now. Didn’t mean they’d get back together, just meant they’d have time to talk in a civilized tone and walk away friends.
“Doesn’t matter.” Again, she rummaged through the desk drawer.
