Page 221 of The Black Trilogy

At the time, I didn’t realise how prescient those words would be.

“Well, I hope you’ve got a good lawyer.” Miriam spun around, caught herself from overbalancing with an inelegant lurch, and stormed off.

I could quite understand why Black’s opinion of her was so low he needed a backhoe to find it.

Eventually, we both got bored with mingling and small talk and settled into the library with Nate, Carmen, Nick and a good bottle of Scotch.

“How long do you reckon before they all go home?” I asked nobody in particular.

“Ages, I expect,” Black answered. “They’ll probably hang around as long as there’s food and drink left.”

“Oh, good grief. For a pretend wedding, this sure is turning into a hassle.”

“Pretend wedding?” Nick asked.

I realised neither of us had filled him in yet. I thought he’d been a bit quiet.

“Kind of. We got married for real, but mainly to help out with my citizenship application.”

“You’re all invited to the divorce party in a couple of years,” Black added.

“So you’re not really together, together?”

I shook my head. “No, nothing’s changed except we get to wear these classy rings Nate picked out, which probably cost twenty cents each.”

“Yours cost forty-nine dollars, you ungrateful wench,” Nate said.

“Such generosity.”

The grandfather clock near the window had chimed two by the time the last of the guests trickled out. One of the party organisers stuck her head around the door. “That went amazingly fantastically!”

Her perkiness was unnatural at that time in the morning. I managed a grunt in return.

“Well, we’ll be back tomorrow—oops, later today—to clear up. Y’all have a fabulous night!”

Black finished his drink and got to his feet. “I’m going to bed.”

“Same.” I paused then leaned into Nick. Sitting beside him all evening had left me with a wanton ache between my thighs. “Want to join me?”

“Black won’t mind?”

“No. You heard him.” Besides, he’d spent our wedding night with a showgirl.

Nick followed me to the door, but Black changed his mind and poured himself another whisky. Well, at least if he was hungover, he wouldn’t notice if I had a lie-in.

Upstairs, Nick gave me a reminder of our Mexican jaunt, and I was grateful that in the days when Riverley was constructed, they built proper, solid walls with plenty of soundproofing.

Otherwise, that night could have got a little embarrassing.

Life continued as normal. What passed as normal for Black and me, anyway. The only noticeable differences were that I lived it with a ring on my finger, albeit a nicer one than Nate bought, and I changed my name.

“Pretend or not, no wife of mine is wearing a forty-nine dollar ring,” Black told me.

I bought a second ring for him in return, but we kept the original engraving. Tacky, but it seemed fitting. Amanda died a death, appearing only on official paperwork, and with my new surname, Emerson became my semi-official first name.

As I filled out one form after another, I asked, “Do you want me to sign a proper prenup?” We’d scribbled out something on the back of a cocktail napkin, but it probably wouldn’t stand up in court. Black was loaded, and I didn’t ever want money to come between us. “Well, I guess it would be more of a postnup now?”

“Don’t be so stupid.”

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