The Next Day (Foothills Book 2)

by Carrie Thorne

  Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, Zane cradled his head in his hands. So embarrassing. He was closer to forty than twenty. What the hell?

  Grady rested his hands behind his head and grinned. “As you’re here instead of at home with your wife, I’m guessing you’re looking to find a way out of it?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m assuming Freya’s wanting out, too?”

  “Yeah. Shit. I’m divorced. She’s been engaged a few times. Neither of us intended to get married. Eloping with a woman I’ve known less than a month? Dumbass idea. Can we get it annulled?”

  Relaxed as if this were no biggie, Grady plopped his feet up on the ottoman. “Not called an annulment in Washington, it’s a Determination of Validity, but same thing. As you were both intoxicated, we have a good case for it.”

  “Okay, good,” he nodded, letting out a long breath he hadn’t realized he’d been withholding. “Freya will be relieved.”

  “But…”

  “No buts,” Zane stiffened.

  “But,” the corners of his mouth turned up with ironic amusement, “that won’t work if you two go around acting married.”

  “No more sex?”

  Grady muffled a laugh. “Not if you want that annulment.”

  “I really don’t want two divorces.”

  “Then keep your hands to yourself. Did you consummate it?”

  Zane concentrated, trying to bring more of it back. “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  “Woke up with my pants on,” he shrugged, leaning back into the couch.

  Grady laughed out loud. “I can’t wait to hear Freya’s side of things.”

  “She doesn’t remember any of it.”

  “Do you?”

  Zane cringed, “Not enough. I never forget. But I never drink such awful shit or get high, either.”

  “Sorry man. Think you two will be able to stay friends?”

  He nodded. “That was the plan to begin with. Burn out this chemistry we’ve got, then come home and pretend the weekend never happened.”

  “Don’t think it works that way.”

  “I know, but it was absolutely worth finding out the hard way. Or it would have been, if we hadn’t fucked it up by getting married.” He glared at the ring. Visions of another ring bounced around his thick skull. Wide gold band. Engraved inside, some bullshit about true love. Then handing it back to Blaire when she demanded her freedom. Not caring that he hadn’t slept in weeks, had been shot at, pushed to his limits while trying to save the world, his marriage, and their finances. “So how do we get the annulment?”

  “As I said, keep your dick in your pants. Don’t cohabitate. Swing into the office later this week with a retainer fee so I can process everything for you. Well, unless you want to do all of it yourself.”

  “Hell no. You can have my entire damn savings, just make it all go away.”

  Grady chuckled, leaning forward in his seat. “Only enough to make it binding; I’m not profiting on your stupidity.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “I’ll have you fill out some paperwork, then we’ll see about scheduling a court appearance and you can explain your drunken night to the judge.”

  Groaning inwardly, he imagined having to retell this again. In a staid courtroom. In front of strangers. “All that damn work to end this charade, when all I had to do before was scrawl an illegible signature?”

  “You messed up, you have to pay the consequences.”

  What a fucking mess. He hopped up and headed for the door. “Thanks,” he said, genuinely meaning it this time.

  Grady followed him to the door, then swung back to the bookshelf. He studied the diversity of spines, then grabbed out a book with a ripped guy in dog tags and little else, and handed it over.

  Zane scowled, his eyes drawing up from the smutty cover to Grady’s beachy blues. “What the fuck is this?”

  A smug-ass grin, Grady shrugged, “Don’t judge a book by its cover. It’s about a cranky Navy SEAL that finds happiness with a snarky schoolteacher.”

  Looking at his new attorney like he was fucking nuts, Zane tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

  Grady shrugged, “Maybe you can explain what the fuss is over Navy SEALs. Asher thinks it’s the abs.”

  “Nah. More the untamable rogue they think they can domesticate.”

  “Damn, your ex really did a number on you.”

  “There’s a reason I don't date much.”

  “Well, when you find one about a small-town lawyer that bunks with a man-child and has a psycho overbearing mother and is a moron when it comes to falling for the right woman, let me know.”

  “Make this annulment happen, and I'll commission one if I have to.” Managing to find a lightness in the weird-ass day, Zane ducked out the front door and hopped in his truck, tossing the book onto the passenger seat.

  Freya dumped her backpack on the front porch and dropped onto the rocker next to Sophie. Leaning back and closing her eyes, she brought a full breath in, and slowly let it out. “I like the new chairs.”

  “You picked them out,” Sophie’s voice was light and kind and everything Freya needed.

  “And they are going to look stunning with the Turkish blue paint, snow white trim, and walnut accents.” Easing with the rhythm of the rocker, the rustling of the forest branches in the afternoon breeze, Freya smiled softly, “I changed my mind on the color for the door and shutters. Celery.”

  “Celery? Are you sure?”

  Nodding, Freya painted the image in her mind. “Or grass. Whichever speaks to you more.”

  “Huh. Celery or grass. I like it.” Sophie’s voice brightened further, “Oh, I was going to call you, but I didn’t want to interrupt your weekend. Your stuff came.”

  Eyes popping open, Freya felt the thrill wash over her. “What a relief. I love charcoal, but I miss color and the messiness and the rebellion of paint.”

  “I suspect you'll keep stealing my dresses even though yours have arrived?”

  “Hell yes. I look great in them. Help yourself to mine anytime.”

  They rocked again in silence. For all the weirdness of the day, Freya relaxed. Like the pace since, shit, since even before Pippa’s wedding, since the broken engagement with Giovanni, since she had decided to come home… months of frantic chaos had eased to a pleasant rhythm. No tours on the schedule for at least a few months, a roof over her head, no car meant she had an excuse to not go anywhere… first time in years she wasn't beholden to anyone.

  “How was your weekend?”

  Well that didn’t help. “Weird.”

  “Wedding was that bad?”

  “Worse. We had to dodge my aunts all evening; gossip-happy bloodhounds. One even mentally undressed Zane while asking me how he was in the sack. My cousin and her friends were a horde of partiers. Not a drop off potable water. So, we had a bit more alcohol than we should have, but we’d thought we hadn’t had so much that we couldn’t keep our heads. After all, we’d had one more night of sex ahead of us. But then they served the wrong cupcakes for dessert and we got high as kites on top of the stiff, sugary cocktails they’d served by the bucket.”

  “What? How does someone accidentally drug their guests?”

  “It was that awful of a wedding.” Legs too weak to even rock the chair anymore, she tilted to a stop and couldn’t move.

  “At least you weren't the oddball this time. They don't sound so normal.”

  “And then I woke up married.”

  “What?” Sophie choked and coughed and laughed in response.

  “Finding the energy to nod, Freya pinched her lips together. “Zane’s at Grady’s right now asking how we can get an annulment.”

  “I’m so sorry. You were already worried about falling for him.”

  Adrenaline pumped into Freya’s limp muscles and rocketed her out of her chair. Pacing on the shady porch, she wanted to throw something or break something or… Dammit. She tried to
at least slow her pace. “I was so terrified of giving all of myself up for a man. One night of inhibitions suppressed, and I did exactly that.”

  “Marriage doesn’t mean giving everything up.”

  “No? Married people roll with the orange couch they hated in the store. They tolerate mushrooms on their pizza even though it makes them gag. They don’t call their mother on Sunday because he is feeling insecure and needs attention. They don’t get to decide to fly back to Europe for shows at the drop of a hat.”

  “Unless they have a husband that supports them, maybe even wants to go with them.”

  “Ha,” she huffed.

  “But they do get to have unlimited access to a shoulder to cry on, a brain to bounce ideas off of, someone to tell them their ass looks great in that dress that really makes them look like a peacock.” Sophie calmly rocked in her chair, sipping her water and setting it back down on the tiled side table. “Or was the sex not good?”

  Shoulders dropping, Freya bit her cheek and leaned against the post. “It was amazing. I’ve had some good sex in my life and that was…”

  “Like your bodies were built only for each other?”

  Flaming hot, acidic tears welled in Freya’s eyes. Unable to speak, she pinched her lips closed and nodded.

  Sophie slowed her rocking. “Go ahead and get the annulment. If you two decide to get involved, you can do so at your own pace down the road.”

  Letting out a long breath, Freya nodded. “Three broken engagements and now an annulled marriage. What is wrong with me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Says the woman who has only been in love once. And she’s waiting six months before taking things to the next level even though she knows he’s the one.”

  “How about this. You do your thing. Open your box of supplies and paint if and when you feel like it. Go about your day. Then tomorrow. Eat, sleep, live. Go on like you normally would. Zane will do his thing. I will do mine. The world will turn and do what it does.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “It’s not. But it’s either that or lose yourself, as you’re so afraid of.”

  12

  Eat, Sleep, Live, Zing

  Monday morning. Ha. As a woman that followed a very nontraditional schedule, Freya had never understood the hatred for Mondays. She’d actually enjoyed them. Until today.

  Sophie was at work. Pippa hadn’t started the schoolyear yet, but she was setting up her classroom and making lesson plans. Asher was still at training. Her parents were both at work. Grady and Lincoln were at work. Everyone was busy.

  Except for Zane. He was right next door. Nothing more pressing on his plate than their annulment.

  She was too cranky to paint. So many artists fueled their negative energy into their work. That really wasn’t her style. She liked to pull the beauty of the world around her into her art, to convey its power.

  Forcing herself outside, she headed to her favorite lookout point and did her yoga. A cool breeze, the sun rising overhead, the scent of summer wafting across the field. It wasn’t enough. By the time she finished, her muscles burned and protested at how she’d pushed the limit, but her brain wasn’t any calmer.

  Stalking back into the house, she refused to look up at Zane’s apartment. What if he was watching? Would he wave? If he did, should she come up to visit? Were they still friends or should they avoid each other?

  She showered and threw on a lazy pair of jeans and an old cotton t-shirt that had seen better days, updated to match her painting needs with the sleeves and collar cut off, a knot in the back to keep the extra fabric out of her way. Leaving her feet bare, noting at least her toenails still had a fresh coat of peppermint green, she knew what she had to do. Swinging open the front door, she stormed out before she changed her mind.

  Not watching where she was going, she slammed right into the brick wall of Zane. Groaning at the impact, he steadied her against him. “Hey,” he said as she clung to him, even though the risk of falling had ceased.

  “Hi. I was just heading up to see how your conversation with Grady went.” Her breath rushed in and out, her pulse kicking up as she tried to control her reaction to him. Every kiss, every touch flashed through her mind, his hands on her sides bringing it all back so vividly.

  “That’s what I was coming over for.”

  Hands clutching his t-shirt, she opened her grip and smoothed where she’d wrinkled, the movement quickly turning into an excuse to hold on longer. She tried to gather her bearings, taking a full reset breath.

  Turning, she opened the door and waved him in after. Moving into the kitchen, she was about to pour a cup of coffee, but next to the old-fashioned drip, was her espresso-on-demand. A genuine sigh of relief passed her lips as she grabbed a pair of the smaller mugs from the cupboard and turned on the brewer.

  Handing Zane the first cup, she waited for hers and joined him a moment later. “Let’s go outside,” she nodded back toward the front door.

  He took a sip and followed. Cowlick unruly, his jaw rough with stubble, his forest eyes even darker than usual, he looked to have slept as terribly as she had.

  In the side-by-side rockers, she closed her eyes and found the rhythm of the morning. “Can he fix it?”

  Zane nodded. “He’s getting the paperwork ready for us today. Then I’m to bring him lunch tomorrow and he’ll help me wade through the documents while he eats.”

  An odd combination of relief and constriction wreaked havoc on her stomach. “That’s a relief.”

  “Sort of. Apparently it’s tough to get an annulment, well, have the marriage declared ‘invalid,’ but we’ve got a good case. We’ve got to act the opposite of married while this processes, and we’ll have to provide proof that we were incompetent to get married that night.”

  “Proof? Should we be getting drug tested?”

  He chuckled, his head tilting to the side in an amused nod. “I found receipts and temporary copy of the license in my suitcase, and I do have a charge for photography on my credit card. I googled the place, and apparently, they promise that you will receive the photos in the mail in about three weeks. Let’s be sure to schedule the hearing when we can bring pictures of us trashed while we got hitched.”

  “Oh, I didn’t even think of that. This can’t have been cheap. I’ll reimburse you for my half.”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  Scowling, she pulled her phone out of her pocket and pulled up her bank account. Scrolling, she found what she was looking for. “I have a two-hundred-dollar charge for a jewelry store.” She glanced at his hand and the band he still wore.

  “Not even a fraction of what I spent on yours.”

  She still wore the intricate band, afraid to lose it with how expensive it looked. Apparently, she was right. “Think we can return them?” Bile rose in her throat. Three broken engagements, and now an invalid marriage. And this was her favorite ring yet. The gem matched her eyes, the band told secret stories of its own.

  What would her family think if they found out? Last time they’d seen her, she was leaving one fiancé at the altar. This time, she’d irresponsibly let herself get intoxicated and gotten married, annulling it as soon as possible. Her father was always supportive, but he had to be embarrassed.

  “Doesn’t look like it. I googled that, too. Sounds like a shady set-up to me, late night weddings and attached jewelry store, not caring that the bride and groom slurred through their I dos. They look legit on their website, but with the late hours and lack of waiting period? They provide everything you need right there onsite like a mini wedding shopping mall.”

  They sat and rocked for a bit. Among the many muddled questions in her mind, she replayed the conversation over again. “Define ‘act the opposite of married.’”

  “No more sex.”

  “I figure that part. If the judge doesn’t buy the drunk thing, maybe they’ll care that we didn’t consummate it.” She winked at him.

  “Not sure how we’d prove tha
t, but yeah, that’s pretty much what Grady said. No sleepovers, no sex.”

  “What about coffee on the front porch?”

  “As we are friends, not a couple looking to get married, I think that should be fine.”

  “What if we hold hands?”

  “Do you always try to push the boundaries?” he turned to her, his rich eyes sparking with an unexpected charm.

  She grinned, “Only when I find them annoying.”

  “We weren’t planning on anything after the weekend anyway. Not exactly how I’d envisioned the weekend going, but this will ensure that we don’t reverse on the original plan.”

  “I suppose. Annoying all the same.” More than annoying, but he was probably right. Already, she wanted to curl up in his lap and tug that shirt off, now that she knew how nice things were underneath.

  Draining the last of her coffee, she rose from her seat and offered to take Zane’s empty cup. Needlessly grazing her fingers over his as she took the mug, she let the zing wash over her before heading inside.

  Two days. They’d made it two days without speaking to each other. And without kissing each other; that was a first.

  This would be no problem. Grady would fix it. Some paperwork, a court appearance, and the whole thing will be erased. Hell, the night was already gone from her memory, now to erase it from the court’s memory.

  Pleased with their progress, ignoring the hollow in her gut, she stared at her checking account balance. At this rate, if she continued to sell at her current trajectory, minus anticipated expenses, she’d be broke within the year. To make it, she needed an upsloping income, not just steady.

  Time to take it to the next level. She hated marketing. Advertising. Building that brand. Why couldn’t art involve nothing more than painting and sketching and making an occasional appearance in person?

  Over the last forty-eight hours, she’d called and emailed three galleries that she had worked with before, and reached an agreement for each to carry two more of her paintings that she had waiting on her porch for the shipper to pick up. She’d dropped in a bonus charcoal for each to consider, a little teaser to demonstrate her range that they may not have been aware of.