Wade is mid-sentence again, but I haven’t heard a word of what he’s said.
“I have to go,” I say, interrupting him.
“Sure. Good luck in Boston.”
“Thanks.” I hang up, not taking my eyes off Hannah. She hasn’t moved from beside her Jeep, but she shuffles awkwardly like she’s already regretting talking to me.
“Hey,” I say when I get to her (great opening, loser) and slide my phone into my front pants pocket. “Just getting back from the gym?”
I hold back a groan. I used to think I was good at talking to women, but Hannah brings out the worst in me.
“Yeah.” Her stare briefly scans my attire. Can she tell I’m wearing the same shirt she slept in forty-eight hours ago? I do have other white button-down shirts, but this one still smells like her. Weird? Likely.
“I’m glad I caught you before I left.” I hitch a thumb toward my packed car. “We have an away game tonight.”
She nods. She’s giving me nothing. I’m seconds from babbling about the leaves turning colors or asking if she’s seen any good movies lately. So agonizing.
Fuck it. It’s already painful. Why beat around the bush? Unless it’s her bush of course, then sign me up. Except she doesn’t have one of those—something I’ve thought about many,manytimes. But I digress.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
Her pupils flare quickly then she smooths out the panicked expression. “No. I mean, fine, yes, I have.”
I huff a small laugh. “I wasn’t expecting you to admit it.”
“I can change my answer if you’d like.”
“I’d love nothing more than to stand here talking to you, but I have to get going so maybe I’ll just let it slide.”
She nods, giving me an opening to keep going.
“We need to talk about Vegas.”
She squeezes her eyes shut. It shouldn’t be such a blow to my pride that she regrets that night, considering the circumstances, but I feel my ego shrink to half its size anyway.
“You ran out before I could ask how you want to handle it.”
“You’re right. I was spiraling but we do need to take care of it. I planned to hire a lawyer and start the paperwork to…”
“Get our hasty Vegas wedding annulled?” I try to inject enough humor into my tone to make things less awkward but I’m not sure I manage it.
Her lips press together and I get another nod.
“Right.” I pull at the neck of my shirt to keep it from strangling me, but it’s already unbuttoned. “I figured as much.”
I did, but is it too big of a stretch to hope she was a little more excited about being legally attached to me?
“I would have already done it, but I need to move some money around first.” Her gaze darts around and she tucks a strand of hair behind one ear. Money is one of many things we haven’t really discussed, but she was upset about losing her sponsor and she mentioned a lack of funds being a reason she almost didn’t go to Vegas, so I’m guessing it’s a touchy subject.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Really?” It’s the happiest she’s looked since I walked over.
“Yeah. I’ll have everything drawn up and you can just sign.” I smile like it’s no big deal. I do this all the time. Look how easy it is to divorce me? I’m a mother-pucking catch.
“Thank you.” She lets out a long breath.
And then there’s nothing else to say. Is it okay to ask your wife out on a date while you’re talking about divorce? Things may have taken a surprising turn in Vegas, but that night was…fun, and she was…great. For weeks I’ve been trying to hang out with her. I built her up in my mind based on, admittedly, not a lot of concrete facts. Just feelings. But now that I’ve spent time with her, I think my gut was right.
