Page 14 of The Clover Chapel (Jamison Valley 2)
“The truth,” I said. “He deserves the full story. But before I do anything, I need a plan and I need to talk to my attorney about a divorce.”
“Good idea. Logan will take it much better if he knows you’ve just been waiting to find Nick so you could settle the divorce.”
I hoped she was right and that after Logan learned I was still legally tied to Nick, he wouldn’t be too mad. That maybe he’d understand why I had refused his two proposals.
I hadn’t denied him because I didn’t love him. I just wasn’t free yet. A part of my heart still belonged to Nick and I couldn’t marry Logan until I had taken it back.
“Thanks for listening,” I said.
“That’s what I’m here for. And to give your dad—”
“Stop. Immediately,” I interrupted.
“You’re no fun anymore.” She laughed. “Keep me posted.”
“I will. Bye.”
I stared into the black night, processing everything that had happened tonight. Thinking about everything that had happened back then.
Tossing my phone on my bed, I walked to my dresser and pulled out the small box I had kept hidden behind my underwear for years, its sole purpose to hold two rings, a tattered photo and a CD.
I went for the ring first, slipping it on my index finger and twirling it around like I had so many times. Never once had I put it back on the intended finger.
Next I went to the photo.
There was no light in my bedroom but it didn’t matter. I could see the picture as if it were day.
Nick and I were in profile under the chapel’s pergola. The officiant had just stepped away to give us a private minute. It was the moment Nick had hoisted me up with his big arms wrapped around my lower back and hips. My heeled feet had dangled in the air and my fingers had been threaded through the hair at the back of his neck. Our foreheads rested together and we both had huge smiles spread across our faces.
Then, love had been written on my face.
Now, it was wrecked with tears and anguish.
Five minutes spent in Nick’s presence had cracked open the gashes in my heart that I’d spent years stitching together.
If Nick’s life was in Prescott, I couldn’t stay here. But I wasn’t leaving until I had some answers to the questions swirling in my head. Questions I’d asked myself over and over again. Somehow, I would find the strength to ask Nick why.
Why had he left me that morning? Had our night together meant so little to him that he could leave me behind, never bothering to look back? Why hadn’t he found me for a divorce or an annulment?
My nose started to sting as tears pricked the backs of my eyes. Nick was responsible for rivers of my tears. Tears over the crushing disappointment that I’d been so wrong about him. Tears because everything he’d told me that night had been a lie.
I inhaled a ragged breath, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
“I wish I didn’t feel like this,” I told his picture. “I wish that you looked different. Not like the man I’ve been imagining for years. I wish you weren’t real and that it wouldn’t hurt so much.”
Mostly, I wished that I could just let him go.
“Emmeline, I’m sorry but there isn’t much else we can do.”
“I just don’t understand. Why can’t we get the divorce papers drafted this week?” I asked Fred Andrews, my family’s attorney. I had called him first thing on Monday morning before heading into work.
“Like I’ve told you, we’re in a precarious position here. My advice is to proceed with caution, and that will take some time. At a minimum, a month. I know you’d like to have this done as quickly as possible but rushing a divorce at this point may position you and your family for an unjust financial claim.”
“How can that be? I haven’t seen Nick in nine years.”
“Correct, but during your marriage your trust fund limitation expired and all of the money from your grandparents was fully released. He could claim a portion of those funds with no prenuptial agreement in place before your union.”
“That is ridiculous, Fred,” I scoffed. “We were together for less than twenty-four hours.?
