by Holly Rayner
Well, mission accomplished, I think sourly, scrolling through my contacts list and trying to think who I can call next, who might have some power to help me out that I haven’t yet thought of.
My first move, of course, was to try calling Hobbs directly. I didn’t think that would get me anywhere, and I was right. When his secretary found out who was calling, she told me in an apologetic tone that Hobbs wasn’t in the office. I could hear him talking in the background, so I knew he was there, and she knew that I knew he was there. It was awkward for both of us. I didn’t want to be one of those obnoxious people who pesters a secretary who’s just doing as she’s been told, so I got off the phone.
Clearly, Hobbs isn’t going to take my calls about this.
I tried speaking to someone at the clerk’s office, but they told me there was nothing they could do. The Attorney General had given them instructions to deny the annulment, and their office had no authority to overrule that. I tried to explain the situation, but they said it didn’t matter. That call ended quickly, too.
There’s just no point, I’ve found, in pestering people to do something outside the scope of their authority. Of course, ordinarily, I’d ask to be transferred to a superior, but that clearly wasn’t going to work.
I contacted an old friend of my father’s, a retired lawyer living in New York, and asked for advice. He recommended going ahead with divorce proceedings. After all, he argued, Hobbs couldn’t prevent Dani and me from getting a divorce, and since we both wanted to end the marriage quickly and on good terms, it might be the best idea.
He had a good point, but I can’t stop thinking about the fact that Dani has never been married before. If we get divorced, her marriage to me will always be on the books, and she deserves the opportunity to have it blotted out. That shouldn’t be taken away from her just because of my history with Hobbs.
It took me the better part of the weekend to come up with what I think is the best plan for us. It’s going to be complicated, though, and it’s going to require a lot of time and energy. We’re going to have to travel. And I have no idea how Dani’s going to react to any of that. It’s possible that when I get her on the phone, she’ll say we should just get divorced. She might think that’s easier.
My hand hovers over the phone. I’m surprised to find that I’m hesitating. Why don’t I want to call her?
It only takes a quick search of my anxious state to understand. I’ve been divorced once already. It did not go well. I’m not a man who’s overly attached to his wealth, but it hurts to sit across a table from someone you’ve loved and trusted for a long time while she and her lawyer work out how to take as much as they can from you.
It’s different with Dani, of course. We don’t have that history of trust and love. But still, she’s someone I like. I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. My experience of her would be so soured if it ended like that. I have to admit, there’s a sizable part of me that doesn’t want this to become a divorce because I don’t want to see our relationship turn ugly.
I need to stop thinking about Ilsa. That’s not constructive right now. I need to stay focused.
Dani answers on the third ring.
“Hello?” She sounds busy, and I can hear a lot of chatter in the background. Where is she so early on a Sunday morning?
“Dani, it’s Luciano,” I say. “Is this a bad time?
“Oh!” she says. “Hold on a minute.”
The line is muffled. I can hear several female voices, growing higher and higher in pitch. After a minute, the ambient noise dulls and I hear Dani again.
“Hi, Luciano.”
“Hi. Where are you? Did I reach you at a bad time? I can call back later.”
“No, this is fine,” she says, sounding a little breathless. “I’m at my friend’s house. Sandy. Remember, the bride-to-be?”
“Oh, right, of course.”
“The wedding was yesterday, and we’re having kind of a gift-opening champagne party before she and her new husband leave on their honeymoon,” Dani says.
“Ah. So I did call at a bad time.”
“No, no, it’s fine. She’s going to be opening gifts for the next ten years, I swear; it looks like everyone they ever met decided to send something. I’m not the only one who’s taken a call, trust me.”
“Well, okay. If you’re sure it’s all right.”
“I’m sure. What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Kind of,” I say. “I’ve been working on getting us that annulment.”
I take her through my struggles with the Attorney General’s office and the advice I’ve gotten from other people. I hesitate before telling her that one of my contacts suggested divorce—I so passionately don’t want to pursue that option that it bothers me even to bring it up—but I know I have to be honest with Dani about her options, so in the end, I bite the bullet and tell her.
She doesn’t keep me in suspense for even a minute.
“I don’t want to get a divorce,” she says. “I don’t see why we should have to do that. I’ve been looking it up online, and it says that if you weren’t of sound mind at the time of your marriage, you’re a candidate for annulment. That definitely applies to us. We don’t even remember it, for God’s sake.”
“I agree,” I say. “But you should understand, a divorce might allow us to resolve the matter faster. I think that’s what my contact wanted to make sure I knew.”
“Do you want to get a divorce?” Dani asks.
“No,” I admit. “I don’t.”
“Good. Neither do I. And I don’t want to be bullied into getting one by some petty little man who’s angry he couldn’t get his son a job through nepotism.”
I can’t help laughing. “I’d love to get you and Hobbs in a room together sometime.”
“Who?”
“The Attorney General.”
“Oh. Let me at him.”
“Listen,” I say. “I think I’ve figured out a way we can get the marriage annulled, but it’s a little bit complicated.”
“Okay?”
“It’s actually a lot complicated. We’re going to have to go out of our way to make it work. But we can do it, if you want.”
“Tell me what it is.”
“Okay.” I take a breath, steeling myself. “Did I mention to you that I still have citizenship in Portugal?”
“I can’t remember,” Dani says.
“Well, I do. And, as a Portuguese citizen, I can have a marriage annulled there.”
Dani is silent for a long time. Then, she says, “You’re saying we’d have to go to Portugal to have it done? We couldn’t just—I don’t know—drive to Arizona or something?”
I shake my head. “The annulment has to be granted by the same state that issued the marriage license,” I tell her. “Only Nevada can do it, and they won’t until Hobbs is out of office, which will be at least another two years. I’m guessing you want to get this resolved before then.”
There’s a quick beat, then, “Yes, of course.”
“Then this is the best solution I can find,” I say. “We’ll fly to Portugal and get it taken care of there. The only hang-up is that we need to track down the person who witnessed the wedding itself, but I doubt that will be a problem. The chapels should have records of that kind of thing. Once we find that person, we’ll all fly out to Portugal—with any luck, we’ll be able to leave right away—and get everything taken care of. Does that sound good to you?”
“You’re saying we’d have to travel to Portugal together?” Dani says. “That’s really the best way for us to get out of this marriage?”
“I know it’s inconvenient,” I tell her. “I feel horrible, Dani. You shouldn’t have to jump through all these hoops. It’s completely outrageous, and it’s all my fault. One of these days, Hobbs and I are going to have words about all this, and I promise you I’ll make him regret taking his grudge against me out on you. It’s so unfair.”
“Hang on, Luciano,” Dani interrup
ts. “You’re misunderstanding me. A trip to Portugal would be amazing. I’ve never been. I’d love the opportunity to see your home country.”
“You would?” I can’t keep the surprise out of my voice. This is too good to believe. I expected to have to talk Dani into this. I anticipated that, even if I could persuade her to go, she would be annoyed, upset about having to take so much time out of her life to resolve a silly mistake that should have been easily rectifiable right here in Nevada.
But she doesn’t sound annoyed. In fact, she sounds excited. It’s as if the hassle of this annulment has opened the door to a fun opportunity she wouldn’t otherwise have had. It’s such an unexpectedly positive outlook that I’m momentarily at a loss for how to respond.
“What do we do now, then?” Dani asks. “I guess we need to start by trying to contact the person who witnessed the marriage, right?”
“That’s the first step, yes,” I say, recomposing myself. “Once we find them, we’ll be able to go. Now…I know this is moving quickly, but there’s a flight out late tonight that we could get on. If we move quickly enough, we can catch it. Is there any way you could—”
“Of course,” Dani says, reading my mind. “I’ll leave right away. I can be in Las Vegas in a few hours. Should I go to your penthouse?”
“Why don’t we meet at that hotel where we spent the night? You’ll be able to park your car there.”
“That works for me.”
“Do you remember how to find it?”
“You can text me the address.”
“Great. Are you sure it’s all right for you to leave?” I ask. “I know you’re at your friend’s party. I don’t want to pull you away from that. If you can’t come now, we’ll just figure out when the next available flight is.”
“Isn’t it true that it’s harder to get an annulment the longer you wait?” Dani asks. “I read online that you need to demonstrate an unwillingness to be married, and if it looks like you were trying to make it work and then changed your mind, that can count against you.”
“You really did your research,” I say, impressed.
“Well, I wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into. And…” She hesitates, and I hear something in her tone, as if she’s stopping herself from saying something.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Nothing. Never mind.”
“No, tell me.”
“You have to promise not to get upset,” she says. “It was a conversation that happened, but I didn’t instigate it, and you have to understand, I just thought it was wise to have all the information about my situation. I never intended to do anything to harm you. I need you to believe that.”
“I believe you,” I say. She sounds so earnest—desperate, even—that I have no trouble taking her at her word. “What happened?”
“It was my friend Liz. I told her about the night I spent in your penthouse, and she figured you probably had money. She said that if you and I divorced, I might get some kind of payout, and that I should think about doing it. But I wasn’t going to,” she adds very quickly. “I was never considering it, Luciano. Please believe me. I don’t want any money from you.”
“I believe you,” I say again, quietly. It’s so different from the way things went with Ilsa. Ilsa, who was supposed to love me, who was the closest person in my life. She turned on me so viciously. It surprises me that I can so easily lower my defenses for Dani, that I honestly believe her when she says she isn’t trying to manipulate me.
“After that conversation, I just thought I should study up,” Dani concludes. “So I wouldn’t be taken by surprise again. So I could hold my own in any other conversations that might come up.”
“That makes sense,” I agree.
Dani says goodbye and tells me she’ll be on her way soon. The knowledge that I’ll be seeing her in a few hours gives me a strangely energized feeling, and I leave my office and head out of my apartment feeling upbeat for the first time in days. I need a bottle of wine to welcome my wife back to town with.
Chapter 20
Luciano
It’s strange to be back in the hotel where Dani and I spent our wedding night. The last time I was in this lobby, I had a panicky woman I barely knew chained to my arm, and I was badly hungover and trying to piece together the mess that was the previous night. I never made the connection at the time, but I realize now that I must have been attracting quite a lot of attention that day. It feels very different to sit here unnoticed. It’s much more peaceful.
It occurs to me to wonder what made us come to this place that night. After all, Dani already had a hotel in the city, and I had my penthouse. Either of those places would have sufficed. So, why did we decided to rent the most expensive suite in one of the most upscale hotels on the Strip? It’s a mystery that might never be solved, I know, just like so much else from that night. It’s hard having to accept that there are answers I may never get.
The sliding doors leading to the street open, and there’s Dani. Automatically, I get to my feet. She’s looking great in a charcoal pantsuit and low heels, towing a small rolling suitcase behind her. The bag is smaller than I would have anticipated, and I realize that I told her to pack, but we didn’t discuss how many nights she should pack for. She’s probably envisioning flying over and flying back the next day.
And why shouldn’t she? This is, at its core, a business transaction. The fact that she said she’d like to see Portugal doesn’t mean she’s going to want to hang around for a week or anything. She has a life to get back to.
Shaking off my thoughts, I cross the lobby and see her spot me. She heads in my direction and we meet halfway. There’s an awkward moment when it’s not clear whether we should shake hands or hug. I hugged her when we separated before, but we’ve had a week apart to come to our senses, and maybe she’s rethinking everything.
I probably shouldn’t even assume we’re going to the car show together anymore, I realize with a sinking feeling. Everything that happened between us was too fast, too intense. Of course she wants to back off. I hold out my hand to shake and she takes it.
“It’s good to see you again,” I tell her.
“You too,” she replies.
Her smile is sincere and it soothes my nerves slightly. She doesn’t resent having to be here. Even if she’s just viewing this as a business trip, it’s one she’s excited about. We’re going to have a good time together. I’ll make sure of it.
Dani looks around. “So, what do we do first? Go to the airport?”
I shake my head. “First, we have to try to find the witness to our wedding. The good news is, I have a lead.” I pull out the marriage certificate Dani found in her purse the morning after our wedding, which I’ve been keeping in my office. “It looks like the witness had to sign the official document,” I say, pointing out the signature on the line below my name and Dani’s, beside the word witness.
Dani squints at it. “It’s tough to make out.”
“I’ve been studying it,” I say, “but I wanted to let you look at it with fresh eyes and see if you saw the same thing I did.”
She bends close. “Jack Borman?”
“That’s what I saw, too,” I say, relieved. “Okay. So, we have a starting point. We know who we need to look for.”
“Do you think we’ll be able to find him?” Dani asks.
“I don’t know this for sure, but I’m hoping you have to be a resident of the city or something to serve as witness to a wedding. If that’s true, he should be fairly easy to track down.”
I don’t mention my concern that Jack Borman might have been a tourist like us, that he might even have been equally drunk at the time. If that’s the case, he could have gone home by now and forgotten all about me and Dani, and that could make him almost impossible to track down. But I don’t want to worry Dani with that possibility. We have plenty of options to explore before we need to think about that.
“What should we do?” Dani asks. “I guess we could look him
up online, or maybe try to find a phone book…are phone books even still a thing? I don’t think I’ve seen one since I was in college.”
“I already did a search online,” I say. “The name is too common for the internet to be of much help, and there’s a sort-of famous Jack Borman in Chicago who’s skewing the results. He’s a comedian, I think. I don’t think he was the guy.”
“Probably not,” Dani replies.
“So,” I continue, “I thought we would start by going to the main hotels and asking the managers if anyone knows him. If he works on the Strip, we’re likely to run into someone who works with him, or has worked with him, before long.”
Dani agrees, and we decide the sensible place to start is at our current hotel. After all, it would make sense that we had our marriage conducted here. Maybe that’s why we decided to take a room here. It seems like it was really easy to talk us into anything that night.
But the receptionist shakes her head.
“There’s no Jack Borman working here,” she says. “And we don’t have an in-house wedding chapel, either.” She squints. “I do remember you two, though. I think I was on duty the night you checked in.”
“Did we say anything about our wedding ceremony?” I ask. “Maybe where it was held?”
The receptionist shakes her head again. “I didn’t talk to you,” she says. “I just remember seeing you. We were actually talking about you in the staff room, because…” She hesitates, then lowers her voice. “If I remember correctly, you were wearing handcuffs.”
Those handcuffs are going to follow me around for the rest of my life.
“Thanks for your help,” I tell her, and Dani and I leave the hotel.
The next place we try also doesn’t know Jack Borman and doesn’t have a chapel.
“Of course, there are dozens of chapels that aren’t even affiliated with hotels,” the man points out. “So, you might be barking up the wrong tree there.”
Our internet search produces an unmanageably long list of wedding chapels.