Page 5 of The Backup Groom
“Ha!” Ron said. “This is hilarious. Women aren’t motivated by money.”
Maggoty Mercedes glared at him. “Do you think I’m here for your thrilling company? Give me a break.”
“No funny business, either,” Uncle G continued. “Burt needs to attend the wedding to make sure things are legit. Don’t forget to send him an invitation.”
“Looking forward to it,” Burt said. “Do you think you’ll have a vegetarian option for the meal?”
Uncle G rubbed his hands together. “How fun was that?” He chortled as if he had pulled off the world’s biggest bank heist and gotten away with it. “Let’s see who’s next on the list? Why don’t we move on to Kathleen and Ron?” He shook his head in disappointment. “You are the only two people left in the family who are still married, which is surprising since your marriage has been a ticking time-bomb ever since you walked down the aisle.” He leaned toward the camera. “Well, allow me to light the fuse.”
“What does he mean by that?” Ron said.
“Kathleen, unbeknownst to you, your pompous blowhard husband had the gall to ask me to pay for your wedding,” Uncle G continued.
“What?” Kathleen said, cranking her neck toward Ron.
“When I refused, the douchebag convinced you to elope to Las Vegas and then planned the wedding on a date that he knew I would be out of town at a conference.”
Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “That’s absurd.” He tried his best to maintain his composure, but the flared nostrils and grimace said otherwise.
“Although I’m certain your buffet at the Bellagio was appetizing, the man you married has always left an unpleasant taste in my mouth,” Uncle G said. “He takes you for granted. He doesn’t respect you. He made you quit your prestigious culinary school, something you had a true passion for, so you would be his trophy wife and accompany him to social events. Now, you are bored out of your skull, living an unfulfilled life, while your weasel-of-a-husband boinks his receptionist twice a week.”
Wow. I didn’t see that coming.
“Surprise, surprise,” Maggoty Mercedes said, back to filing her nails.
Ron lunged for Kathleen’s hand. “Uncle Garfunkel is full of—”
“Save it.” Kathleen yanked her hand away.
“Kathleen, I’m offering you an out right now,” Uncle G continued. “If you sign a divorce petition today, right now, this very minute, you will get one million dollars in cash, on the condition that you go back to culinary school, which I will also pay for.”
Kathleen sat up in her chair, and her mouth dropped open.
“Right,” Ron said. “Culinary school is the furthest thing from her—”
“You will also get another million dollars to open your own pastry shop or cafe after you graduate,” Uncle G said. “I know you will graduate top of your class because your apple strudel and your tiramisu are heaven on earth. Burt Bicker has already started the petition for dissolution to file with the county clerk. If you agree to my terms, please stand and say, ‘I do.’ If you decline my offer, I leave you my 1999 Ford Taurus and nothing else.”
Kathleen sprang to her feet. “I do!”
Ron jumped up from his chair. “Oh, no, you don’t!”
Burt paused the video and slid a document toward her. “Print your name here and sign here.”
Kathleen leaned over and did as instructed, dropping the pen and smiling.
“You’re dreaming if you think I’m going to let this happen,” Ron said. “I will get half of everything Uncle Garfunkel gives you.”
“Actually, that’s not true,” Burt said, taking the signed document from Kathleen and placing it inside a folder. “Your prenup goes both ways, so you won’t get a dime. And I really don’t see any reason for you to be here at this point.”
They glared at each other for a few seconds.
Ron pretended to shake it off. “Whatever. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. I’m outta here.” He knocked over his chair and walked out.
I turned to Kathleen, squeezing her hand. “Love you.”
She smiled. “Love you right back.”
What just happened was all-too surreal.
