Page 95 of A Chance for Us
I blink a few times, jaw slack and can’t speak.
“According to her, she thought you wanted her to file it. She said if you really hadn’t wanted to be married, then you wouldn’t have signed it.”
“She knew!” I yell.
“I’m going to agree with you on that, but we know my devious wife likes to think she knows better than anyone. Charlie said you’re free to call her, and she’ll give you some bullshit about mistakenly doing it, but the fact remains, it’s been filed and you’re legally married.”
This is a problem. A big one.
Oliver doesn’t want to be married—at least not like this.
“Mark, this is not okay.”
“I’m sorry. I know that woman heard you and Oliver say not to file it, and I . . . I underestimated her and left it out. Really, I never thought she would do paperwork, she never does.”
“I’ll . . . find a way to fix this.”
He gets to his feet. “I think Natalie knows a great divorce attorney.”
“Yeah. Thanks. Listen, I need to take a week or two off again. I know the timing sucks, but my father . . .”
“Take whatever you need. We’ve got your back.”
Mark winks and then walks out, closing the door behind him.
I lean back in my chair, letting out a heavy breath. This is not good.
The worst part is that now I have to figure out a new way to show him that he’s not my second choice. I want to be with him. I want to build a life with him in whatever way we can. None of that is achievable unless I can first prove to him that, if I had the freedom to choose, I would choose him every time.
My phone rings, and it’s Linda’s number.
“Hi, Linda.”
“Are you on your way yet?”
“Is he okay?”
“Yes,” she says clipped. “He’s doing the salsa now. No, he’s not okay, Maren. He’s exhausted after all the excitement from the wedding. He’s having a hard time waking up to take his medication, and he is refusing to eat. I am beside myself, which you’d know if you were here. There are a lot of things I need to handle, and it would be wonderful if anyone from the McVee family decided to be here for Patrick.”
Deep breaths, Maren. I can either lose it on her or I can remember that she’s probably saying this from a place of fear and anger.
“I’m booking my flight today, and I’ll be there. Oliver will probably come in tomorrow.”
“You’re both coming?”
“Yes.”
She clears her throat. “That’s . . . nice.”
“We will help however we can so you can get a break. I’ll call the family and see who else can come.”
“We don’t need a houseful of people,” she bristles.
She wants help, but she only wants it if it’s on her terms and never with us all in a group. However, this is about my dad. He loves his sisters and brothers. He loves his daughter, and for some reason, he loves her. So, for him, we are all going to be there and hold his hand. That’s it.
“I’ll arrange hotels and a rotation, but you’ll have help around the clock, and we’ll all be there for Daddy. In the end, I think what we all want is for him to feel loved and know that you also have support.”
I hear her hiccup before she steels her voice. “Tomorrow.”
