I nodded, forgetting for a minute that he couldn’t see me through the phone. “Yeah. I just want to talk to you about what I need to do to end the marriage. ”
“Right,” Marc responded quickly, and then I heard him typing. “OK. So, obviously your two options are a divorce or an annulment. ”
I realized my jaw was clenched, and I tried to relax it. The fact that I was even having this conversation pissed me off. “An annulment means the marriage never happened, right?”
“Yes, but you can only file for one under certain circumstances. ” He continued typing.
“Chrystle lied about being pregnant,” I said, longing to make this bullshit marriage disappear completely. I hated waiting this long to deal with everything, but I couldn’t take the necessary steps during baseball season. If I needed to be in court to testify or make a statement, I wouldn’t be available while we were in play-offs. My personal life outside of my baseball had to wait.
“I know. ” The rapid tapping continued as I waited. “OK, here’s the deal. We’ll file the dissolution of marriage under the fraud category, and the burden of proof is on us, if necessary. I’ll file the paperwork first thing tomorrow morning. It should be a no-brainer. ”
I sucked in a deep breath. “Awesome. Thank you, Marc. ”
“You’re welcome. ”
“So, is there anything else I have to do? How long does it take?”
“You don’t need to do anything yet. I’ll find out if you have to make a legal statement in front of a judge or not. As soon as Chrystle signs it, we submit the paperwork, and it should only take a few weeks to finalize. ”
“Shit. Seriously? Only a few weeks?” My mouth dropped open before transforming into a huge grin.
“Yeah. It’s just a process, but it’s not a long one. I’ll be in touch. ”
“Alright. Thanks again, Marc. Talk to you later. ” I pressed End before tossing my phone onto the coffee table and reaching for my laptop.
Only a few weeks. Fuck, yes!
I opened my Internet browser and typed a name in the online search engine: “Cassie Andrews. ”
When a ridiculous amount of options appeared, I narrowed down my search: “Cassie Andrews photographer. ”
Her name came up first with a link to her new position in New York. I clicked it and found myself on a page filled with her contact information. I scrambled for a pen and something to write on, as if I didn’t get it down on paper immediately, it would disappear forever and I’d never get it back. I jotted down her work number, followed by her work e-mail address just in case.
Just in case what?
You cannot call her until you have your shit together. Until Chrystle is out of your life for good. No calling or e-mailing Cassie until you’re rid of all your baggage.
I glanced at the clock on my DVD player. Eight p. m. That made it eleven in New York.
I thought we just covered this?
Desperation coursed through me at the very idea of hearing how she sounded. I suddenly needed to hear Cassie’s voice. Convinced there was no way she’d still be in the office, I dialed her work number, my heart thundering in my chest with each ring.
“You’ve reached the desk of Cassie Andrews, junior photographer. ”
My abs contracted as the sound of her voice coursed into my ear.
“I’m sorry I missed your call, but please leave me a detailed message and I’ll return it as soon as possible. If this is urgent, please press zero to return to reception. Thank you. ”
A beep played, and I quickly pressed the End button on my cell, my breathing ragged. She sounded happy… cheerful, even. My heart pinched with pain at the realization that she could be just fine without me. I longed for her happiness, but in all honesty, I wanted to be a part of it. She had become a permanent fixture within me. I struggled to remember what it felt like before she burrowed herself into my soul. I couldn’t remember existing without her. Every part of me had become tied to her. It was in that very moment I realized how fucking desperate I was for her to feel the same way about me, and how I honestly had no idea if she still did.
“You called my work phone and hung up? I love it. ” She leaned her head against my shoulder before pressing her soft lips against my cheek.
“I did that a lot. ”
“How much is a lot?”
“Almost every night,” I admitted, reaching my hand through the open space in the chair and resting it on the small of her back. I hoped she’d think my actions were cute instead of creepy.