It wasn't like she’d even chosen anywhere close to our expensive packages, which were tailored to the rich and famous and had the price tag to match. She’d added some of our popular bells and whistles—like limousine service before and after the ceremony, live streaming of the service for friends and family to watch, and a few of our keepsakes—but she hadn’t gone overboard. And it was my understanding she was footing the entire bill—or at least her parents were. None of that had stopped him from bitching and moaning right up until they stood in front of our officiant, though.
I hurried to gather their marriage certificate, DVD of the ceremony, and keepsakes because I wanted them on their way before I said something I’d regret. As I was tucking everything into their bag, the groom—and I used that term loosely—turned to his new wife and joked, “Getting married in Vegas was smart, baby. If we wake up tomorrow morning and decide that we hate being married, we can always get a quickie divorce at that place we saw just around the corner.”
My head jerked up as the bride exclaimed, “What? How could you even say that?”
I waited for him to try to smooth things over with his wife before asking, “What divorce place?”
“Right before the limo dropped us off, there was an awning over a storefront around the corner for a lawyer who specializes in quickie divorces,” the bride answered, elbowing her hubby in the side. “I should’ve known better than to point it out to this one since he has the worst sense of humor ever.”
“You know I like to get you worked up, baby,” he muttered.
When she cooed back at him, all lovey-dovey, I handed her the bag and wished them well. As soon as the door closed behind them, I dropped down on my chair and narrowed my eyes. Powering up my computer, I decided to do a little digging before my next couple arrived.
Who in the hell would open a legal office specializing in divorce just around the corner from one of the most popular wedding chapels in town? It was so rude! The idea of my clients driving right past an awning like that really bothered me, but I couldn’t seem to find anything online before my last clients for the night walked in.
By the time they were finished—after a wedding where Ariel, Belle, and I had outdone ourselves—I was exhausted. It wasn’t until I was back home and in bed that I started to stew over that office specializing in divorces again. “If I ever meet that damn lawyer…” I grumbled as I punched my pillow and tried to get comfortable.
I spent most of the night tossing and turning, which I blamed on whatever jack-hole had decided to rain on my parade by opening a business so close to us that was the direct opposite of The Chapel of Dreams. But at least I’d dreamed up some inventive ways to make them pay by the time I had to get up and head out the door.
After stopping to grab my favorite coffee concoction and treating myself to a slice of pumpkin loaf and a cake pop for later, I was finally able to get myself into a semi-decent mood while I was on my way to work. Only it didn’t last long because I spotted the sign the douchebag from last night had mentioned. There it was, bold as brass, offering quickie divorces after quickie weddings. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt like I was going to puke when I saw one of the couples who’d gotten married at my chapel yesterday walking inside.
“Oh, hell no!” I pounded my fist against my steering wheel before swerving to the right to nab a spot about fifty feet down the street and hopping out of my car. I was steaming mad when I stormed into the office only about a minute behind the two people who’d promised to love each other for the rest of their lives, right in front of my eyes, not even a full day ago.
Their eyes rounded in shock when they recognized me, before their heads dropped to stare at the floor. If I wasn’t so pissed off, I might’ve taken the time to enjoy the fact that they at least felt guilty for me seeing them there. But they weren’t the root of my problem.
Turning to the guy manning the front desk, I quickly dismissed him as the person I needed to vent at because he looked like he’d maybe graduated from college a minute ago. He definitely wasn’t old enough to have gone through law school, pass the bar, and open a law office of his own. “Where’s your boss?”
“He’ll be out in a second. Were you hoping to speak with him about getting a divorce?” the guy asked with a calm smile. Then he pointed over my shoulder toward the newlyweds who were already regretting their marriage. “Would you mind taking a seat? Because they’re up next. We’ll get to you as quickly as we can.” It was clear by his tone that he was attempting to calm me but nothing short of ripping his boss a new one was going to pacify me.
I held up my hand and wiggled my fingers to emphasize the absence of a ring. “No, I’d need to have a husband if I wanted to get divorced...which would never happen because I believe in marriage being forever. Unlike your boss, whose life’s work appears to be offering people an easy way out of their marriage.”
“I…um…” the poor guy sputtered, his soothing demeanor slipping away under the weight of my enraged
