No Longer Fair To You Chapter 10
Wednesday brought a steady, misty rain.
When we pulled up to the Mating Center, Anderson opened my car door, instantly popping an umbrella to keep me perfectly dry.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Clayton take a few steps toward me.
Holding an umbrella of his own, he watched me for a heavy second before stopping dead in his tracks.
When I’d dropped the divorce on him the other night, he’d flat-out refused.
His eyes had gone completely red as he stared at me, trying so hard to look angry when he really just looked like he was about to break down.
“Eleanor… Eleanor.”
He had kept repeating my name, reaching out to grab my wrist.
I flinched, pulling away, and the visceral, physical rejection had left him completely paralyzed.
Anderson had finally stepped in, hauling him off into the next room.
I never found out what they said to each other, but Clayton had locked himself in his room for a long time afterward.
But now, it was Wednesday, and he was here to go through with it.
The staff processed our divorce paperwork first.
It was painfully clinical – they punched our info into the system, printed the forms, and pushed them over for us to sign.
Clayton’s hands were shaking so badly that he ruined several copies before he finally managed a legible signature.
Catching me watching him, he immediately tried to play it off. “I messed up my hand on a mission a few days ago. I’m not dragging this out on purpose.”
Once that was out of the way, Anderson and I started the paperwork for our own marriage.
This part was a little more involved.
We had to take a new couple’s portrait, and the staff swapped out our temporary certificate for an official one.
Then, as a customary celebration, they popped confetti over our heads.
We stood there examining the new document, soaking in the novelty of it being real.
Clayton stood stiffly on the sidelines with the staff, joining in their congratulations.
“Happy wedding,” he forced out, his eyes rimmed in red, struggling just to get the last word past his teeth.
He stepped right in front of us. His fingers were still trembling, but he was trying desperately to maintain his composure. Staring directly at me, he asked, “Can I talk to you in private for a minute?”
I said yes.
