Wild Hearts (Forever Wild) (6 page)

“
Okay,” he said with a slight nod. “Whatever you say.” He squeezed my shoulder and then kept his arm there as we walked out of the elevator.

I took
my phone out of my purse, using it as an excuse to pull away from him. As much as I couldn’t deny that I loved having his arm around me, it probably would have just raised more questions to any co-workers we’d run into. And to the divorce lawyer.

“Okay, Layla said this guy’s office is on Wacker, so not too far from here. We should be able to w
alk it, no problem.” I typed the address into my phone and pulled up the route.

As I was staring down at my phone, Wes grabbed my hand. I snapped my
head over to look at where our fingers were intertwined, wondering if he was trying to get my attention. My eyes trailed up to his and he smiled, squeezing my hand. “Are you trying to hold my hand right now?”

“Yeah, is that a problem?”

I slowly pulled my hand away. It took everything I had to do it, and once it was released from his it felt empty. Like my hand wasn’t complete unless it was attached to his. “Probably not if we’re about to meet with a divorce lawyer.”

“Oh.” His face fell. “You’re probably right.”

The Goldman and Banks law office looked like just about every other structure in Chicago. It was located in a tall building with windows that went as far up as I could see without being blinded by the sun. It could have been a bank, or even a Jamba Juice for all I knew. The only thing that made it any different was the plaque on the door that read Goldman and Banks.

“This is the place,” I said, taking a deep breath. My palms were starting to sweat. Why was I nervous? This was what I wanted. Wes specifically came to Chicago with me so we could get this divorce started. And yet somethi
ng was changing. Something was making me want to forget all about the divorce and see where the marriage could go. But I pushed that crazy idea to the back of my head and opened the glass door.

Inside
a larger office building, like mine, that also housed a bank and a few other firms. The lobby was sleek white with two escalators in the middle and people milling around, minding their own business. I squinted at the bright light shining through windows directly on my face.

I made my way to the directory between the escalators and scanned it quickly unti
l I found the law firm. Second floor. I quickly looked behind me and saw that Wes was there, but not saying anything. His eyes were blank, like his mind was definitely somewhere else.

“You all right?” I asked.

He forced a small smile. “Right as rain.”

“It’s on the second floor,
so we’ll just take the escalator,” I said, trying not to sound like a complete idiot.

“Then let’s head that way,” he said with a short nod.

On the second floor and directly to our left was a glass door with windows facing a seating area. It looked more like a dentist office than a law office. Though, I admit, I hadn’t ever had to actually see a lawyer for anything before. Well, except Layla, but she dealt with corporate stuff.

Wes opened the door for me and I stepped inside. The air i
nstantly felt like it dropped ten degrees and I almost shivered. Maybe they were trying to go for the arctic look with the gray carpeting, gray waiting room chairs and black-and-white photos, but whatever they were doing, it wasn’t working for me.

A
young brunette who was probably the same age as my sister in college sat behind a large desk, staring at her computer like it was definitely more interesting than us. That was until her eyes found Wes. Suddenly the computer wasn’t so great and she cleared her throat, sitting up straighter and fluffing her red ponytail. “Hello, welcome to Goldman and Banks, do you have an appointment?” Her voice sounded like she had huffed a few containers of helium. She must have been someone’s daughter because I don’t think I’d hire anyone to be the front desk person with a voice like that.

“Yes, we have an appoi
ntment with Art Goldman at twelve-thirty.”

He
r eyes didn’t even flit to mine; they were busy focusing on Wes. She barely even looked away from him as she typed into her computer. “Okay, I see that. Cockrell?”

“Wilder and Cockrell,” I corrected.

“Divorce?” She smiled with sudden interest. Real professional.

“Maybe,” I said through gritted teeth. “But if you could just let your boss know that we’re here, I’d really appreciate it.”

Her eyes narrowed for a second and then quickly went back to their normal wide-eyed expression, as if she forgot that she was at work. “I understand. I’ll send him a message letting him know that you’re here, but you can just take a seat for now if you’d like.”

I knew she was probably checking out Wes’s ass as we walked away and something about it made me feel very possessive. I knew she was ready to swoop
in on him. Hell, I knew our relationship wasn’t even real and he probably had the right to get with any woman he wanted, but I had a loyalty to him. I wasn’t a cheater. I watched what happened to my little sister when her ex-boyfriend cheated on her and when my dad left my mom. They both were devastated. I could never do that to another human being, even if it was a marriage by mistake.

Wes and I sat down
on a set of plush gray chairs underneath a black-and-white photo of the Chicago skyline. His knee shook slightly as he tapped his foot on the ground.

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

“No. I mean, yes.” He sighed. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Why?” I was genuinely curious as to what his answer was. Was there something else that I would find about him? Did he have some secret fortune he’d think I’d want in the divorce proceedings?

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess because I’ve never actually been to a lawyer before and don’t know what to expect. Divorce isn’t exactly something that people do every day.”

“I guess they should put th
at on all Vegas wedding chapels. Disclaimer: this could end with you in a divorce attorney’s office a week later,” I said, putting my hands up like I was holding out a sign.

Wes laughed. “I’m pretty sure there was some kind of legal thing about that when we were signing all that shit at the chapel, but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

I shook my head, trying not to smile too hard but I couldn’t help it, just thinking about it made me laugh. “Yeah, the night is pretty hazy but I do remember you throwing the pen down and yelling ‘fuck this, I just wanna get hitched.’”

An all-
out grin spread across his face. “Yeah, I really did say that. What can I say? I was excited.”

“And I think I was just a hot, drunk mess.”

“Naw,” he said, drawing out the end of it. “I mean, you were kind of stumbling around, but you definitely weren’t a mess. You never are.” He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and then left his fingers there, slowly tracing the line of my earlobe.

At that moment I was ready to tell him to forget about the divorce. See if we could make things work. But before I could open my mouth, the door in front of us opened and a deep man’s voice called out to us, “Wilder and Cockrell?”

I gasped and practically jumped out of my seat, as if I’d been caught doing something wrong. Maybe it was wrong to have feelings for my husband when I was in the middle of a divorce, I didn’t know. “That’s us,” I said, smoothing out my skirt.

Art Goldman was an older
black man. It was hard to tell his age, even with his receding hairline and crow’s feet. He could have been mid-fifties, but with his tall stature and tailored suit that fit him like a glove, he was definitely more in shape, like someone much younger.

His eyes flitted to mine and then he looked ove
r to my side where Wes stood next to me. He didn’t smile or frown, but kept his face neutral and nodded. “Come back to my office.”

We followed him down a small hallway to an open door. The office was spacious and looked out onto the street below
with a view all the way to the lake. While the entrance-way had a sterile feel, his office definitely looked like something I would expect a lawyer to have. There were mahogany bookshelves lining each side of the room, filled with large, leather-bound books. Directly in front of the window was a giant desk and two small leather chairs in front of it.

“Have a seat,” Art said, pointing toward the two chairs as he situated himself in the big executive chair behind his desk.

I took one chair and Wes sat in the other, his knee still jerking as he crossed his ankles and folded his hands on his lap. I’d never been in a situation that required a lawyer, but the guy acted like it was a death sentence.

“Layla briefed me a bit on your situation and I did get that information you emailed me, Ms. Wilder,” he said, looki
ng through a file on his desk before he set it down and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now let me get this straight: you two went to the courthouse in Vegas, got a marriage license, and went to a chapel for the ceremony. Then you were told that you couldn’t file for divorce in that county because neither of you were residents even though Mr. Cockrell is employed there?”

I nodded. That was a better way to put it than ‘you all got drunk and got hitched in Vegas.’

“And just making sure, you both agree to this divorce and therefore will both be billed for my services? Or should I be expecting to hear from another lawyer on this matter?”

I tried to keep my eyes focused on Art but
my gaze kept flitting to Wes. I knew this was the right thing to do but I couldn’t help thinking about what our future could be like together. Could we make it work? No. I had to shove those ideas in the back of my head. I had to move on.

“We’ll both be using you for this divorce,” I said.

“Okay, then.” Art nodded. “What I’m going to do then is get some paperwork filed, but first I need to ask you some questions. Do you two live separately?”

“Uh, well, Wes is currently staying at me while we get the process started,” I said.

Art’s face stayed mostly neutral except for a slight twitch of his lip. “Okay, well if we want to file this under irreconcilable differences you two will need to live separately. Then we should be able to get this all on the books in six months tops.”

“Six months?” My eyes practically bulged out of my head. “I thought this would be like a wam bam, over and done thing.”

Art smirked. “Ms. Wilder, I do apologize, but the divorce process isn’t as easy as signing a piece of paper.” He folded his hands on the file in front of him. “I’ll file the petitioner fee and it will be served to Mr. Cockrell. Within thirty days you will both need to sign the paperwork. Once it’s signed, we’ll start the divorce proceedings. Does that sound okay to you? It’s not wam bam, but it should be a seamless process.”

I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. Who knew a quickie marriage could turn into such an ordeal?

“That’ll work fine for us, sir,” Wes said.

“Good,” Art said with a nod. “I’ll just get this filed and my processor will serve these to your home address.”

***

After our meeting we walked out of the building in silence. I didn’t know what to say to
Wes. I didn’t know what I s
hould
say or where to go from here.

I stood on the sidewalk and watched the businessmen and women walk by us, going on with their lives. They barely even noticed us standing there. They didn’t know that my head was swimming with a jumbled mix of emotions and too much information about legal proceedings.

“So, I guess we sign those papers and then we’re done? Like it never happened?” Wes asked.

I turned toward him. He wasn’t looking at me,
but the same span of sidewalk that I was staring at before.

“Yeah. I guess that’s it.”

He nodded slightly, shifting and glancing down at his feet. “Okay. I guess I’ll head back to your apartment for now, if that’s okay. Unless you want me to get a hotel or something.”

I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. You can stay at my place as long as you need to.”

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. I couldn’t tell what was behind them. Worry? Sadness? “I’ll leave anytime you want me to, Valerie. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

Would he? I wanted to ask him to stay with me. Not just for thirty days but for longer. See if we could work it out. But instead my reasonable side shut that idea back. “It’s fine. I’ll see you at home, Wes.”

“Okay, Val.”

He nodded curtly and then turned, walking in the other direction. I watched him as he made slow meticulous strides down the street. No one gave him a second look. No one else could hear how hard my heart was pounding in my chest. How wild I was for Mr. Wild.

Want to know what happens next? Stay tuned for The Wild One. The third installment in the series from Wes’s point of view!

Want more Valerie and Wes?

Keep up with all of the books in the Forever Wild Serial

Wild Hearts