Mrs. Matched | Complete

Chapter Eighteen

Unfortunately, Melody's memory was even stronger than her curiosity, so she remembered my strange reaction in the office and 'invited' me for coffee the next day. When I arrived she already looked ready for battle.

"Melody Jane, why is your hair pulled back?"

"Aubrey Ellen. It's pulled back because I already know you're gonna pull something that requires me to do work."

One of the baristas chose that moment to drop an entire bottle of some sweet syrup, whose splat was only drowned out by the barista's expletive bouncing through the cafe. "Sorry," she muttered, picking up a towel and leaning down to clean it up.

"See?" Mel said. "Just like that."

"So, are you going to help me or just make jokes?" I slid into the seat beside her, forgoing the ordering of a drink until the barista had time to clean up the mess. No need to make things worse.

"That depends." She paused to take a sip of her coffee. I knew the trick well, though, so I just sat there and stared at her, batting my eyelashes until she looked back up at me.

"Spill, Melody. What are you going to do? Because I've met him now and I kinda don't hate him so if you're going to ask me to hurt him let's do it fast, please."

"I've been your best friend since fourth grade!"

"Which is the only reason I'm here considering whatever crazy plan you've already concocted, Aubrey. Just promise me you'll at least consider what I have to say."

My tears betrayed me, beginning to pool in the edges of my vision as the cafe bustled around me. "Melody, I can't stay in this. You're right he seems like such a decent guy but I can't be married to someone I didn't agree to marry. The longer I stay in this, the more I keep playing this role, the more we're going to hurt him. And the more we're going to hurt me. I need help."

The tears finally made their way down my face and onto my cheeks as Melody slid her chair around the table and pulled me into a hug. "We'll figure it out, Aubs. We always do."

Melody's idea of figuring it out was decidedly different than my own, putting forth ideas from making him hate me to running away to live in the woods. She promised to provide me with a cabin from Paul's connections, but couldn't guarantee there would be heat.

"Mel," I finally stopped her when she started discussing bear repellant. "I was thinking maybe I'd just discuss the contract options with a lawyer."

Her hands, which seconds before had been flying around illustrating her plans for an outdoor shower, fall to the wooden table with a thud. "Well, why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're Mel," I laughed. It was nice to have someone make me feel like I was sane for once. "I've missed you."

* * *

Not even three days later, Melody and I were sitting in the offices of Gerard Mattieu, Barrister.

"What do you mean you told Paul?" I whisper shouted to her from behind a six year old copy of National Geographic. "The whole point of this was that we're on a spa day. You're my cover."

"Well, he won't tell anyone. I can't have him finding out I visited a divorce lawyer." Her own expression made her eyes look like they were popping out of her face. "I made him swear not to tell on pain of having to eat onions in every dish forever. He won't tell Chris."

"Christopher," I corrected.

"Whatever. Your cover's still fine; just calm down."

Surprisingly, the low tones of orchestral music filling the mostly white room did little to calm me, instead reminding me of very pleasant trips to the dentist.

"Ms. Webster?" The receptionist checked her clipboard and tapped her toe on the slick linoleum. "Ms. Webster, we are ready for you. Right this way?"

If it weren't for Melody's elbow stabbing into my ribcage, I probably would have kept focusing on the knots in my stomach and tension in my jaw, rather than remembering that Ms. Webster was the fake name she gave when we made this appointment.

"Come on, dear," Mel said as she stood. "That's us."

Something about the room felt like it was in a fog, but I let Melody pull me up by the arm and drag me across the lobby into the office. It wasn't until the dark wooden door shut with a booming thud that I fully realized where I was.

Everyone was looking at me, so context suggested they were waiting for me to answer a question. "Sorry," I said. "I missed that."

"I merely asked what brought you here today. My notes say it is a discussion of a parental marriage contract, is that correct?" Mr. Mattieu was younger than I thought he would be, but we were already there, so I went for it, the words spilling out of my mouth like plastic containers from an upper cabinet.

When I finally finished recounting the events of my marriage, Mr. Mattieu had only made three notes on his little yellow pad. All that can be condensed into three points?

"So you desire information about dissolving the match?" He pushed his large rounded spectacles up onto his nose and pulled out a new piece of paper. "Or some other information?"

I pulled the contract out of my purse and unfolded it, smoothing it down on my lap as though the crease would somehow confuse him. "Yes. I mean, yes I want to know how to dissolve the marriage legally."

"Well, my first question is do you feel you are in any danger from him? If we could claim your safety, it would be very easy to dissolve the marriage."

I could practically feel Melody telling me that if I lied about that she would kill me herself, and I knew she was right. My parents might deserve jail for this, but so far as I knew Christopher had done nothing except have parents who included him in the decision making process.

"No." I shook my head for emphasis. "No, I'm safe. If that changes I'll call immediately."

"Good," he replied, not looking at me as he scribbled in his notebook.

Melody and I sat in silence as he peered through a book on his desk and made notes, completely ignoring us as he worked.

'Is he done?' I mouthed to her. 'Should we go?' To make the point clearer, I pointed over my shoulder toward the door with my thumb.

Her only reply was a shrug.

"I'll be right with you," Mr. Mattieu answered my unasked question. Spooky.

The awkward silence stretched thin as I considered how easy it would be to take Melody up on the bear proof cabin instead.

Finally, he took his glasses off and folded them in his hands on the desk. "It's as I suspected. There is a small window at the end of the tasks where we can get you out of this if we can prove you were more invested in the marriage than your husband and do not feel it is a good match. There's a fine and a small filing fee and a lot of paperwork and almost certainly a challenge in court, but we should be able to dissolve it."

"That's gonna be hard, Aubrey. That man shits gold. Oh, I beg your pardon."

"Well, I can try." I shrugged. "And if I can't prove this, what are my other options?"

Somehow, the other options were all much, much worse. And none of them let me leave the marriage before the tasks were complete. "Unfortunately," Mr. Mattieu explained, "the only way to dissolve a parental match with the tasks clause is to wait it out or prove neglect or abuse. As you say there is neither, there isn't much I can do."

"So, I have to act married until these tasks are over?"

"Well, you don't have to do anything, but I do think that is our best chance of winning the case, yes. I will look into it further and have Maria send you an email regarding the situation. Is that acceptable? It's much less expensive than another meeting, but I'd be happy to meet in person if you prefer."

I was already having to sneak away my savings for this meeting. "An email will be fine," I said finally. It will have to be.