10. Dalton

TEN

"Mr. and Mrs. Davis,"the Clerk of Courts says. "You can come on back."

We arrived at the local courthouse about twenty minutes ago for our appointment. Luckily, we were able to use a private entrance, staying out of view of any fans or paparazzi that may be lurking around. Doing this in Vegas, where people were less likely to notice me, was one thing. But being back in Boston where I'm a public figure, we couldn't risk being seen. I already said I'd shout it from the rooftops that Dia is my wife. But I made a promise to her that we wouldn't tell anyone and I'm not going to break her trust. She's been through that enough.

We follow the blonde-haired man into a small office, where he motions for us to sit opposite him at his desk. Dia has been quiet all morning, barely touching her breakfast, but downing three cups of coffee before we got in my car and drove here to file our divorce papers. I tried asking if she was okay, but she just said she was jetlagged and wanted to get this over with so she could check into a hotel room and sleep.

"So," he begins, "I see that you were married in Las Vegas Sunday night, and they denied your annulment."

"Yes," I answer, looking over to Dia who still hasn't said a word.

"Not a problem," he says. "We can get the divorce paperwork filed here today, and since it's non-contested, you'll be good to go in fourteen business days. I just need your IDs. I have a copy of your marriage certificate on file already."

We both reach into our wallets, handing him our driver's licenses. He takes mine first, entering the information into his computer before taking hers and pausing.

He looks to Dia. "This is an Illinois state ID. Do you have one with your current Massachusetts address on it? I"ll need that in order to prove that you"re living at the same residence."

"Umm, we don't live together. I am technically still a resident of Chicago, but I'm moving here to Boston this week," she tells him.

Worry clouds his expression. "Unfortunately, you have to prove that you've shared a legal residence for six weeks before you're allowed to file paperwork for a divorce."

"Oh my God," she says, hanging her head in defeat. "So, you're saying we have to stay legally married while living together for six more weeks?"

He nods. "Yes, ma'am. You can head straight to the Registry of Motor Vehicles and apply for a Massachusetts driver's license with Mr. Davis' address. As soon as you have that, the six-week period starts."

I'm scared to look over at her, but I slowly turn my head to find Dia not nearly as feral looking as I expect. I inspect her face for any type of foaming at the mouth or horns growing from her forehead, but there's none of that. Just her normal expression as she takes her license, stands up, and leaves the room without a word.

"Thank you," I rush out as I reach forward, grab my license, and chase my wife out of yet another courthouse.

By the time I reach the car, which is parked in the building's underground garage, Dia is waiting by the door for me to unlock it. I click the button on my fob and she gets in, slamming the door so hard, I'm surprised it doesn't chip the paint.

Okay, so she is mad.

I choose my words carefully. "I know this is a little speed bump, but we'll get through it," I tell her. When she doesn't reply, I look over to find her eyes full of unshed tears. "Hey," I say softly, reaching over to cup her cheek. "Tell me what you're feeling."

She closes her eyes and surprises me by leaning into my touch. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," I coax. "I know you don't want me as your husband, but let me be your friend right now, Dia. Talk to me."

She sighs, opening her beautiful brown eyes. "I thought it would be easy. I wanted to know that I was capable of being someone's wife, but I wanted it to be over before anyone got hurt."

Fuck. I hate that she feels like every good thing in her life has to end before she gets to the good part. I hate that she doesn't feel worthy of giving or receiving love. I want to kill her parents and ex for burning these thoughts into her head.

"Dia, listen to me," I say. "Nobody's going to get hurt. I get that you've been left and mistreated by people who said they loved you. But I promise I'll never do that. No matter what happens six weeks from now, I'll always be here. Even if you don't want me to be. I'll wait in the wings for your call. And when it comes, I'll get to you as fast as I can. I know you're strong and independent, but it's okay to lean on the people who care about you. You'll always have Mads. And now, you have me, too. Okay?"

She blinks and the tears she's been holding in finally spill over, landing on her pink cheeks. I reach out, wiping them away with my thumbs before leaning in and dropping a firm kiss to her forehead.

"Okay," she says with a watery smile.

"Alright," I say, pressing the ignition button, making the car roar to life. "Let's go make you a true Bostonian."

She raises a brow, "You gonna teach me how to pahk the cah?" she asks.

There's my girl.

"Noooooo," I say, drawing out the word. "I was gonna take you to a wicked awesome pub, ya chucklehead."

She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she's trying not to smile. "Just take me to get my new license, asshole."

I feign offense. "Is that any way to address your husband after he just poured his heart out to you? You're fucking brutal, Wifey."

She looks over at me with a defiant look. "What are you going to do? Put me over your knee again?"

My brows just about fly off my head, surprised at the fact that she's bringing that up right now, but I school my expression before reaching over to grab her face so I can look her in the eyes. "You'd better watch that smart mouth, bad girl, or you'll find out."