Page 75 of Nutmeg + Mistletoe
It’s basically an unscripted season of Grey’s Anatomy.
“Yes! He’s here!” Marlow groans, dragging her hands down her face. “And that’s why I passed out today! The shock of it all!”
Tatum tilts her head, completely unsympathetic. “Babes. Thesexof it all! I’ve seen the new midfielder. You’re telling me you get to have guilt-free sex withthatand you’re upset? Help me understand the crisis here.”
“The crisis,” Marlow snaps, voice cracking just slightly, “is that this is the worst possible time for me to show up with a secret husband who just so happens to be our new player!”
“Yeah,” Tatum nods. “The press would eat that up.”
“Exactly!” Marlow hisses. “I’ve spent months rebuilding my name. People are finally starting to take me seriously. This will bloweverything. My reputation, my credibility. Mydadwill lose his mind.”
I raise a hand, stepping into the madness. “Okay, I hate to be the voice of reason here, but what exactly did you think was going to happen? You signed paperwork. There werecameras, right?”
“I used an alias,” she says, defensive. “I figured if I found him first and got an annulment, it would all be handled before anything hit the media.”
“Except now,” Tatum cuts in, wagging her eyebrows, “your future ex-husband is here toserveyou in more ways than one!”
That sends us spiraling into laughter again, Tatum’s cackle setting the tone.
“Do not joke right now!” Marlow snaps, her tone frazzled. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
I lean forward, a little more serious now. “That depends. Do youactuallywant to annul the marriage?”
She nods, fast and certain. “Yes! I have to focus. On the team, my reputation.Everything elsebut this man right now.”
“Then go to him,” I say. “Explain. Be honest. Tell him it was a drunken mistake in Vegas and that getting an annulment is best for both of you.”
Her shoulders square like she’s bracing for battle. She knocks back the last of her drink and slams the glass on the coffee table. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll go tell him I was intoxicated and not of sound mind when I married him—”
“And promised you wouldn’t leave him?” I add, dryly.
“And licked the tip of his dick,” Tatum throws in, completely deadpan.
“Okay!” Marlow screeches, throwing a cushion at her. “I get it! I made acolossalmistake and we have an entirehighlight reelto prove it.”
“At least you can blame it on Vegas,” I offer.
“Right.” She nods, pulling herself together.
She stands, slips on her shoes, checks her reflection in the mirror. Her shoulders roll back. Chin up. And then she’s off. Marching out to ask her brand-new husband for a divorce.
Chapter twenty-four
Stress Ink & Short Circuits
Marlow
“I’m just going to get this over with and stick to my guns. Simple as that,” I chant, over and over again.
Still, my hands are sweating as I walk the long hallway leading to the locker rooms. My heels click against the polished floors, echoing like warning bells in my ears. I’m doing this. I’m going to face him. The man I married.
The man I left without so much as a note.
The man whose kiss I can still feel like it’s tattooed into my skin.
I round the corner, and there he is.
Declan Agassi.
