Page 112 of Forced Proximity
“Now that, I can do.”
Three weeks later
My ex-wife was now in prison with two broken legs with a pending trial date for the following month.
That trial would never come.
As I typed away, I hid her in the system, knowing that people would forget about her after her case wasn’t sitting directly in front of them. Hopefully, everyone would forget she ever existed.
The murder/suicide, however, wouldn’t be forgotten.
It wasn’t often that a lobbyist lost his shit and murdered two women on the front porch of an ex-state representative.
Luckily, I knew how to make things disappear on the net.
I also had a team of people who were wiping the stories out just as fast as they popped up.
As for my future wife, she wasn’t too broken up about everything.
She was doing well, and the only worries she had now was when I would pop the question.
After hiding the last trace of Aurora, I closed down my computer, then switched to my monitors and watched my wife work.
Only when she was really lookin’ like she was dragging did I have Chevy drop her ring on her desk with a muffin that said, “Will you marry me?”
It took her ten minutes to find it.
And when she did, she opened the box, slipped the ring onto her finger, grabbed the muffin, then looked up at the camera in the corner of the nurses’ station and said, “Yes!”
Epilogue I
Maturing in marriage is realizing that your husband isn’t going to get tired of you. He’s been eating the same Subway sandwich since he was nine.
—Text from Dru to Apollo
APOLLO
Two years later
“It’ll be okay.”
My wife looked over at me with a nervous expression and said, “I know. I’m still freaking out, though.”
“Come on,” I said as I led her up the steep mountain road to a cabin set so deep in the woods that it was hard to find even for Google.
We pulled to a stop and a large mountain man exited the front door, a ferocious scowl on his face.
But the moment he saw who stepped out of the passenger seat, his entire face softened.
He took the steps two at a time as she went running toward the man.
He caught her and whirled her around in his arms.
When he finally put her down onto her feet, she whispered, “Hey, Romeo.”
Epilogue II
Someone taking your parking spot at your own home is a different type of anger.
