“I’m not going with you, no matter what, Chester,” I replied.
“We’ll see about that.”
Nash moved and loomed over Chester. “Don’t threaten my wife, because I’m the one you’ll have to deal with.”
Chester took a step back and paled.
Keeping his eyes on Chester, Nash held out his hand. “Come ‘ere, beautiful.”
Bessie came out of the back, and I caught her eye as I went around the counter. “Go with Nash, hon. Everything’s gonna be all right.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I couldn’t think of a thing to say to fix this mess I’d put us all in.
I only wanted Chester to go away. Now I was afraid Nash would beat him up. That Bessie’s diner would be destroyed. That good people would get hurt because of my stupidity.
What must Cord and Nash be thinking right now? They had to hate me for getting them into this mess.
I took Nash’s hand and he tugged me close, kissing the top of my head.
Chester glared.
“You want proof,” Cord said. “It’s this way. Just down the block.”
Cord turned and left the diner, expecting Chester to follow.
He did.
So did Nash and I. He didn’t let go of my hand the entire way to the courthouse at the end of the block.
Cord led us into the old brick building and down a hall to the right. He went to a door smartly painted with Clerk and Recorder across the glass, and opened it.
He held it for Chester, and gave me a wink behind Chester’s back.
The office we entered was small. There were only two desks in front of a window overlooking the central town square. A woman stood. I guessed her to be in her mid-fifties, with graying hair. She wore an orange sweater and a huge smile.
“There you two are,” she said, looking to me and Nash. “I wondered when you would come back. You left here in such a hurry the other day, you didn’t even sign the paperwork.” She waggled her eyebrows at me.
When I realized my mouth was hanging open, I snapped it shut.
All praises to the workings of a small town. Bessie must have done this, called this woman to have her in on the lie. I couldn't believe it.
She set a piece of paper on her desk and waved a pen at us. Nash and I stepped forward. It was a marriage license with our full names on it, and dated three days earlier. The officiant spot was signed, and so was the witness line. She must have hustled to get this pulled together as we walked from the diner.
Nash took the pen and signed beneath the line for the groom, then handed it to me.
“Now just a minute.” Chester tried to snatch the pen from me.
Nash blocked his reach with a slice of his hand and Chester pulled it back, shaking it like he’d cracked his wrist. Nash held his gaze with blazing challenge.
Chester ground his teeth, but didn’t speak again.
I signed my name on the spot for the bride.
What was I signing? It had to be fake. This woman was in on whatever was going on. I’d just wanted Chester to believe that Nash and I were married, then drive off in a spray of gravel. But now I was in the county courthouse, signing a marriage license?
“I chased after them, but Nash had Rachel tossed over his shoulder. It wasn’t like I was going to stop the lovebirds for a piece of paper,” Cord added as we finished.
The woman laughed. “They were so cute,” she agreed.
What?
“They’re actually married?” Chester asked, snatching up the paper and reading it.
“They are. Is there a problem?” the woman asked, her smile slipping before she gave him a haughty look my mother would be proud of.
Chester spun on his penny loafer’s heel and glared at me. He waved a finger in my face. I’d never seen him angry like this before. Not once in all the years we were together had he been anything but mild. I could see now, it had all been an act. This was the real Chester. I couldn’t understand why he was so angry. We didn’t make out. We definitely didn’t have sex. There were other women out there who would love to be his arm candy. Why come all the way to Wyoming after me?
I could see his mind working. He quickly masked his anger again. “You’ve had a nervous breakdown,” he counseled me, like he was preparing a story for the court. “This can be annulled.”
Oh, crap. I could see where he was going with this. He was preparing his legal case. The one that ensured he still got to marry me and use my inheritance.
“I will talk to your father, and we’ll take care of this,” he added.
I drew myself up. “It’s done. I didn’t have a breakdown. I’m perfectly sane and of sound mind. I will talk to my father, myself. Now go.”