Page 78 of Illicit Temptation

“Shea, what’s wrong?” Trace asks, cupping my shoulder.

It burns because I worry that he won’t touch me again after this. He’s been all over me because he says as my husband, he has the right to my body. What if I’m not his wife anymore after today?

“We’re getting a divorce. Even though I want it, it’s still kind of...sad.”

He pulls me in close, seizing my moment of weakness. “Then let’snotget a divorce.”

“But we agreed.”

His eyes devour me. “I agreed in principle. Only because you were drunk, and I’d like to know that you would have said I do because...”

My pulse thickens. “Yeah?”

He sighs. “Nothing.”

“Logan Street Wedding Chapel,” the driver says.

Trace takes out a few twenties from his wallet and pays the driver. “Keep the change.”

We get out and my ankle wobbles.Trace catches me, but his hands on me hurt so much now. I’m losing him. This is a loss in some way.

“Any memory of coming here with me?” he says, pushing the hair from my eyes.

“It sort of looks familiar, but I wish I remembered more. I really do. I get to remember the sad divorce. And not the fun wedding.”

“And the wedding night.”

I sniff. “We’ve made up for that.”

“Last chance. We don’thaveto do this.” He squeezes my hand.

“You probably think you’ll get my father’s permission and then we’ll live happily ever after. There’s still the matter of my not being able to give you children. That’s the dealbreaker for me, Trace.”

“It’s not a dealbreakerfor me,” he sounds angry.

“Let’s just go in and see what’s involved.” I admit he’s wearing me down.

There’s no mystery how we found this place, it’s in the shape of a church, painted bright white with balloons everywhere. My event planning cred alone would take a hit if it came out that this was where I got married.

“This place looks a whole lot different during the day,” Trace jokes, breaking the tension.

A few couples are waiting in the vestibule, women in nice dresses and men in suits, some in shirts and trousers. I guess Trace meant after dark when hot messes in miniskirts and shorts or torn jeans flood these chapels.

“Can I help you?” a woman behind a counter filled with personalized wedding merch greets us.

Silence.

Trace and I stare at each other, then her. Finally, I step forward. Me. It’s always me.

Reaching into my purse, I say, “We were here three and a half years ago and got...married.”

She takes the marriage certificate, scans it, and says, “And?”

“I read online that couples who are both present...” I point from me to Trace, who gives a wave with no expression on his face. “That the marriage can be canceled. If it’s within three years, not sure if that’s calendar years like the end of this year?” I blabber.

The woman first looks at Trace, her jaw dropping. Then at me like I’m crazy for wanting to end the marriage. Shaking her head, she doesn’t even bother to check the marriage license’s date. “That got repealed by the state legislature last month.”

I grip the side of the counter, a strange mix of tension andreliefstorming through me. The air feels breathable again, but thisisa blow. Now we’ll have to figure out a legal way to do this. All without my brothers finding out.

---