Page 83 of Accidental Vegas Vows

“They’re not correct about everything,” I clarified. “But what happened that night was not something silly we did after weeks of build-up, and we certainly weren’t happy about the situation when we’d woken up half-naked and hungover the following morning. I believe I even offered an annulment to Mrs. Martin in the midst of her panic within ten minutes of us realizing what we’d done.”

Why the fuck did I say that? Why did I give them more ammunition? I needed to trust my gut, but dear God, it was sending me down the wrong path.

“That was the plan, your honor. File for annulment, and pretend none of it ever happened. But before my son even entered the picture, I couldn’t stop myself from seeking her out, from thinking about her, from wanting to see her again,” I said. “I couldn’t get her out of my head. We spent more time together, just the two of us, and I wasn’t entirely sure where her head was at with it but I knew exactly where mine was. I didn’t care about what we’d done — a mistake like that can be erased. But I didn’t want to remove her entirely. In fact, I wanted the opposite, I wanted to see her more, I wanted to explore the possibility of more with her. And then I found out about my son.”

“Your honor, if I may, this is irrelevant,” Grace’s main lawyer interjected, his voice far louder than mine as he spoke into the microphone. Ethan moved beside me. “He’s admitted that it was a drunken, thoughtless decision. The rest is just nonsense.”

“Let him speak,” Ethan said, his curt tone halting the man in his tracks. “He has a right to speak on this. Let him.”

The judge motioned for me to continue, and Grace’s lawyer sunk into his rickety wooden chair.

I swallowed past the solidifying mass in my throat. “I found out about Noah, and I had to shift gears. My thoughts morphed to considering what was best for him and not for me, and what I assumed would be best for him at that time was my undivided attention. I called Mrs. Martin and told her that whatever we…were…needed to end. I explained my situation. And although she was upset with me, she understood. I needed to put a son that I hadn’t even met yet first. And I did that.”

Grace turned in her chair, her brown eyes boring a hole into my head.

“I was told by both my lawyer and the paperwork that was given to me that I had two weeks to prepare for Noah’s arrival,” I explained. “I was given a date and a time that he would be dropped off at my home, and I started to prepare. I ordered clothing, furniture, bedding, toys, simple food. I ensured that everything would come before his arrival, and Grace—sorry, Ms. Thompson went behind my back and changed the date to a week sooner. She informed my lawyer at eleven o’clock the night before when I was already in bed, and then at six in the morning, I was woken up by Grace’s arrival with my very confused son. Nothing had arrived yet, I hadn’t figured out childcare yet, and I was thrust into my role without the adequate time I needed.”

“Objection, your honor,” Grace’s lawyer interrupted me. “We supplied evidence to show that the date was adjusted a few days in advance.”

“And we supplied evidence that I was not informed of that adjustment until eleven PM the night before,” Ethan challenged.

“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped. “What matters is that I was confused and stressed out of my skull, my sister was out of town, and I had no one to take him during my incredibly important two hour meeting that morning. And in a last ditch effort to figure out what I was going to do, I begged Mrs. Martin for her help. Being the absolutely incredible woman that she is, she agreed to watch him for me, and the two of them clicked right away.”

“The two of them?” Judge Harrow asked.

“Mrs. Martin and my son, Noah,” I clarified. “They clicked. And out of desperation and that inkling to still want to be around her, I asked her to watch him more. I asked her to move in while I tried to figure out childcare. She agreed, albeit incredibly reluctantly. I had just told her that we couldn’t continue on as we were, and suddenly she was moving into my house. I understood her hesitation. There was attraction between us and I don’t think either of us knew how we would handle that.”

Olivia shifted in her seat, and when I glanced at her, she was already looking up at me. Fuck, she’s too beautiful. I’d royally, horribly, disgustingly messed up with her, and every second of looking at her and interacting with her the last few weeks had only solidified that.

“But I don’t think either of us expected where it would end up, either,” I continued. “We tried to keep it platonic. We told ourselves that it would just be until I could find adequate childcare for Noah that met my expectations. But in truth, she set my expectations so high that I struggled to find someone that would be with Noah the way she is. She treats him like he’s her own, and every second of watching that, every time I saw the photo of him on her lockscreen, the tears she didn’t know I had seen when he was in the hospital, the hugs, the love she showed him… it only made things harder. We gave ourselves the grace to act on how we felt until we figured out what we were doing in terms of our marriage, and things spiraled.”

“Your honor, he’s openly admitting that it’s a sham marriage,” Grace’s lawyer spat down the microphone, the speakers nearly blowing again.

“Let him speak, Mr. Allen,” Judge Harrow said, “or I will have you removed.”

“I found myself hoping that it wouldn’t end, your honor,” I continued. I couldn’t bring myself to look at Olivia again, couldn’t bare the idea of the anger on her face from my words. “And I think she did, too. We did what we were doing for Noah, but I think both of us, deep down, knew that it was partly for ourselves. It was both selfish and selfless, thoughtless and thoughtful. I have never been good at holding down a relationship, Judge Harrow, but with Olivia—sorry, Mrs. Martin—it seemed like the easiest thing in the world. Like breathing, or brushing your teeth, or turning on the coffee pot in the morning and being impatient for the first cup.”

I swallowed again, my mouth far too dry for comfort. From the corner of my eye, I could see Olivia moving, could see her hand wiping something from her face.

“When we went out that night in Vegas, I hadn’t expected to wake up the next morning with a wife. That is true. That has always been true. But I wouldn’t go back in time and change it, I wouldn’t pray to whatever is out there and ask for a different outcome. I somehow ended up with the best possible thing I could have asked for — a loving, beautiful, smart woman as my wife, and an incredible son that absolutely adores her. And the thought of losing either one…”

The mass in my throat doubled in size as reality began to hit.

I could lose both of them today. I was almost certainly losing one.

The breath I took in was shaky, and I couldn’t hide it. The backs of my eyes burned, and although I could fight that, I couldn’t stamp down what it did to my voice. “Noah loves her more than I can describe,” I warbled. “And I…”

Say it. I can say it.

“I just needed that to be known.”

Coward.

————

An hour passed of nonsensical back and forth between lawyers. I sat in my chair, barely hearing what was said, barely able to look at anything other than Olivia’s stiff form and the empty podium in front of us. I couldn’t focus. I could barely breathe.

I wanted to hold her hand. I wanted to apologize. I wanted to say what I nearly had, wanted to tell her that she deserved more than me, wanted to beg her to forgive me. But court hadn’t been dismissed and I couldn’t do that here.

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