Crap. Marlee finished with a pat-and-smooth. Eli gently pushed her hands aside.
She turned just as the judge entered the courtroom. Before them now stood a seventy-something woman with salt-and-pepper hair wearing a judge robe that made Marlee’s palms start to sweat.
The courtrooms, the judges, the bench thingy, the “all rise”—they did a number on Marlee ever since she, Sadie, Kellie, and Becca had had a tad too much fun at that hockey game when they were twenty and had gotten arrested for indecent exposure. For the record, they were totally covered. Painted torsos, just like the guys next to them whohadn’tgotten arrested. Unlike the guys next to them, they even had pasties covering the important bits. Still, the officer didn’t think that was enough. Her parents had hired an attorney and used all their country club connections to get Marlee and her friends off the hook. The judge let them go, but the raised blood pressure, the sweaty palms, and the inability to speak without hesitating whenever she got near a courthouse had all remained.
So, no, a courtroom had no place in her get-my-life-together plan.
Judge Milburn smiled and, huh, maybe she wasn’t so bad. Definitely a grandmother type. The sugary sweet kind of grandmother with laugh lines and kind eyes. Yes, not so bad. This would be easy.
Marlee released Eli’s hand and wiped her hands against her slacks.
“Please be seated.” This judge was already nicer than the last one. Yes, that guy had ended up letting them all off with a warning, but he hadn’t been kind about it. There was no “please” back then. “Mr. and Mrs. Howard,” Judge Milburn began, “we’ll make this as simple as possible. I understand you’re here today for an annulment?”
“Yes,” Eli said, scooching forward to speak into the microphone on the desk.
“Yes.” Marlee stumbled over the word, knocking against the microphone so it made that unpleasant squealing sound.
She folded her hands in her lap.
It was Monday morning. She should’ve been in Denver delivering coffee to her friends, not in a Vegas courtroom knocking over microphones.
Eli’s hand found hers and gave it a squeeze. Not removing his hand, he must have somehow realized she needed the support.
“I understand you were both inebriated at the time of the marriage?” the judge asked.
Eli flinched at the word “marriage.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Marlee said without even a squeak.
“And how long have you two known each other?” The judge continued with her questioning, jotting notes as she spoke.
“For forever,” Marlee answered with only a half stumble over the last word.
“Since we were teenagers, Your Honor,” Eli said without any issue.
“And how long had you been planning to get married?” she asked without moving her gaze from her notepad.
“About two years,” Marlee answered without thinking.
Crap.
Judge Milburn looked up, eyebrows raised.
Eli gaped at Marlee, his eyes wide.
Marlee swallowed the dryness in her throat. “May I clarify?”
“Please do.” Judge Milburn nodded.
“I mean I’ve been wedding planning for about eighteen months. But then we were here, and we had too much to drink, and this”—Marlee gestured between her and Eli, whacking his chest in the process—“just happened.”
“I see.” The judge made more notes. Marlee could practically feel the ink scratches on that notepad in her bones. “To clarify, you’ve known each other since you were teenagers?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” Eli answered.
“Yes.” Marlee confirmed on a cough. Seriously, was there no water in the Las Vegas courthouse? It was the desert, for goodness sake.
“And you spent around eighteen months planning the wedding?”
