She spins, shoving me with both hands as she leaves the bathroom.
I follow her.
“This isn’t me,” she spits. “You make me someone I don’t recognize.”
“Maybe itisyou,” I growl. “Maybe you just don’t recognize her outside of me!”
“Exactly,” she snaps. “And that’s why I need this divorce from you. This isn’t themeI need to be.”
I step back like she slapped me. “Stop fucking saying that.”
“Declan—”
“I said stop!” My fists curl at my sides. My jaw locks. I turn away from her before I say something I’ll regret.
Before I can say anything more, there is knock on her door.
“Good afternoon!” The woman says and she looks vaguely familiar.
She’s wearing royal blue glasses, blonde hair with blue streaks and overalls. Like a five year old.
“Oh! Yay! Both of you are here!” She says excitedly.
Shit. Who is this woman? Did someone find out about me and Marlow already? What did I do?
“I’m Chelsea Raymond withSightUnseen,here to do your follow-up interview for the show!”
Chapter twenty-nine
Follow-Ups & Faking It
Marlow
I’m having a hard time forming actual words. My brain knows the English language—I use it daily—but right now, all I can manage is, “I’m sorry. A what, now?”
Chelsea barrels into my office like she lives here. Hair bouncing. Clipboard in hand. Zero awareness that she’s walked into a war zone.
“Your follow-up!” she chirps, as if this is a normal day. “Now that you and Declan are past the thirty-day back-out period, the contract automatically renews, and you’re officially part of our finale episode!”
I glance at the spot on the floor where I last threw my stapler and curse the fact that it’s out of reach. If Declan had just signed the damn divorce papers when I asked, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Iwouldn’t still be legally bound to this charming, infuriating jackass with cheekbones that should be illegal.
Declan clears his throat beside me. “Forgive me and mywife, Chelsea—”
“Stop calling me that,” I hiss, but he ignores me.
“We weren’t expecting you. Can you remind us what this follow-up interview involves?”
“Absolutely!” Chelsea beams. “So, when you got married and signed all those fun little documents in Vegas, you agreed to either file for annulment within thirty days, letting the show know, or commit to a full year of marriage. Surprise! That milestone passed and I am so excited to tell your story! And how cute is it that you ended up working together?”
“Ha! Cute,” I say, entirely too loudly. “And what happens if we back out now?”
“I’m glad you asked. People try that all the time.” She continues with a fake but deadly smile on her face, “But since you did sign a contract, we’d sue you for breach, then we’d run lots of unflattering reports on TMZ about you. It all gets very ugly.” She pauses before she adds, “Ugly for you, of course. Not us. We wouldn’t break our word to you!”
I blink. Once. Twice. Declan, that smug bastard, just leans back on his heel like this is amusing.
Chelsea continues, undeterred. “But, since you’renotbacking out, this first meeting is just a check-in. No cameras, no pressure. But the next one? That’ll be recorded. We’ll need some freshfootage for our ‘Where Are They Now?’ segment before the finale airs.”
“I’m sorry, Chelsea.” My laugh escapes somewhere between nervous and unhinged as I try to keep a lid on the rage bubbling just beneath my skin. “I just thought we’d get a warning bell or something. A call. Maybe a smoke signal that said, ‘Time’s almost up before you’re tied to this lunatic for the rest of your life?’”