Page 16 of Downfall

Great. There goes my annulment case. Unless being drunk on not only alcohol but also the citrusy scent of the man you hate most in the world counts.

“Oh, you know what?” Marge chirps behind her computer as she bends down to open a drawer. “I almost forgot. A young man came in the other day with a stack of cards. A family law attorney who recently moved to town.” She hands me one of the cards from the top of the stack. It reads, “Joseph Jonas, Attorney at Law.”

You have to be fucking kidding me.

“It’s not the Joe,” Marjorie says, a lilt of disappointment in her voice. “Trust me, I’d know. He’s one of my hall passes.” This she pairs with a wink. I’d laugh if I didn’t feel like my tears were only a fraction of a second away from being unleashed all over this poor woman.

“Thank you,” I tell her, pocketing the card. “Seriously, Marge, you’re the best. I’m sorry you had to deal with me first thing in the morning.”

“You’re welcome, honey. You never have to apologize to me for visiting. I wish there were more I could do to help.”

I shrug. “I’ll call Mr. Jonas. Maybe he can help me.” Or find a loophole to get me out of this ninth circle of hell I’ve found myself in, but I don’t say that.

“Skylar,” she calls out as I turn to leave. When I look back, her eyes are shiny and slightly crinkled. “You’re not something that has to be dealt with.” I give her a small smile, nodding once. With that, I walk out, as pity finally takes over Marjorie’s features.

An hour later, I’m still staring at the small Helvetica letters on the white rectangular business card.

Joseph Jonas, Attorney at Law.

I’m no closer to dialing the number than when I first sat down at my desk after stopping at The Roasted Bean for an iced mocha. Now the ice is nearly melted, I haven’t done an iota of work despite the emails that keep pouring in, and I can’t stop imagining Joseph Jonas having these cards printed. Excitedly skipping off to drop them at the courthouse, hoping to make a buck off the poor souls who got wasted and thought getting married online would be a good idea.

“Article pitches for this week.” I look up to see Dan standing above me with a stack of papers. “You weren’t answering my emails, so I thought I’d print them out and bring them by. I just need approval.” His eyes briefly flick to my hand, and I think he’s looking at my cast before I remember the ring. The one I’m still wearing partly because it’s stuck and partly because I couldn’t bring myself to try again after my initial half-hearted attempt to take it off.

“Dan, listen. I’m so sorry about the other night. It was unprofessional and⁠—”

He waves me off. “Not a problem. I was happy to help young love…blossom or whatever.” I can tell he wants nothing more than to drop the subject, and I’m right there with him.

“Right, well thank you for that…and these.” I take the papers from where he set them down on my desk. “I’ll email the approvals over now.”

He turns to leave, but I stop him. “Oh, and Dan. If you could keep this quiet for now? We haven’t really told anyone yet.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And let Chase and Devon know?”

“You got it.”

“Thanks. I appreciate your discretion.”

“Sure thing.” Dan nods and nearly scampers out of the room, bumping into a chair on his way out. He may be the only person in this office more awkward than I am. For all his world traveling, he’s not very worldly, although it’s possible he could be a closet freak. Nerdy in the streets, Daddy in the sheets, or however the saying goes. I rest my forehead against my desk and briefly wonder if I should have Marjorie set him up with one of her relatives, but the thought evaporates at the sound of boots thudding against the hardwood floor.

Boots I know all too well.

Lifting my head slowly, I’m met with espresso eyes, buzzing with intensity. Said eyes rake slowly and painfully over me until they land on my cast—no, once again it’s not my cast someone is staring at. It’s the twisted wire around my ring finger.

I quickly move my hand behind my desk and out of sight. “Where the hell were you, Declan?” I snap. “I waited at the courthouse for half an hour.”

“I had a meeting,” he replies easily. Now it’s my turn to look him up and down. He’s leaning against the doorway, legs crossed at the ankles, wearing dark jeans, a Rancid T-shirt, and the same leather jacket from the other night. His hair is styled, a contrast to the finger-raked mess he was sporting when I found him in my living room yesterday morning.

“You don’t look like you’re dressed for work,” I observe.

“Didn’t say it was a work meeting.”

His lips turn up in a ghost of a smirk and my heart sinks. Is he insinuating he was hooking up with someone? I wouldn’t put it past him. He may have looked gutted when I told him we had to fix the mistake we made, but I’ve had to learn the hard way that he’s a good actor. “You’re an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

“Well, while you were off getting your dick sucked, I was trying to get us out of this mess. It can’t be reversed, but we can try for an annulment, which is the next best thing. I have the name of an attorney and⁠—”