“Payments,” Natalie says at the same time as I declare, “Pay it all now.”

The dude’s eyes widen, and he holds up his hands as if to say keep me out of this.

“I’d rather make payments,” Natalie says in a quiet but firm voice.

“I got this.” I grab my credit card from my wallet.

She grits her teeth then speaks in a low hiss to me, “I think we can both pay the cost of the annulment, Wyatt.”

“No need. I’ll take care of it.”

“I want to split the fee.” Each word from her is a bite. “And if we keep fighting about this, it’s going to make my headache return.”

Ditto, so I’m not going to belabor this point. Nor I am going to give in to her “let’s go Dutch on a divorce” stance. “We just need to get it done, Nat. Stop arguing, and we can deal with it later.”

She crosses her arms as I hand the guy my card and tell him, “The whole shebang.”

He takes the payment, tells us where to sign on the dotted line, and says he’ll keep us posted. “Congratulations on getting un-married,” he says with a smile and a wave.

As we leave, Natalie gives me a stare. “What was that all about? Why do you get to pay for it?”

“Because it was my mistake.”

“Ah. Right. Of course.” She lingers on those words then shoots me a steely stare. “So back in the hotel, I might have tricked you? But now it’s your mistake?” I start to answer, but she gives me no room to speak as she moves closer, getting in my face. “Maybe I wanted to pay to undo it, too. You’re not the only one who made a mistake.”

“That’s not what I meant,” I say as I open the door for her.

“Well, what did you mean?”

“Look,” I say as I follow her into the car and the driver pulls out, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry things got crazy last night. I’m sorry I suggested we get married. I’m sorry the whole night was a mess. I’m sorry for everything. The least I can do is pay for it, though.”

She closes her eyes like this pains her. “Now, I’m really sorry.” Her voice is quiet, defeated.

I’ve no clue how we went from having the night of our lives to bickering like an old married couple. Oh, right. We got married. That’s how. We did something unbearably stupid. But at least we can unravel that big mistake. “Look, the sooner this is over the better, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“And it’ll be over soon. Like the guy said.” As the car rolls along the highway, I try to lighten the mood. “Hey, I guess the saying really is true. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. We’ll go back to New York with a clean slate. It’ll be just like last night never happened.”

“It sure will,” she says through tight lips as she turns to stare out the window for the rest of the ride.

We don’t say much on the flight home. Or on the drive into Manhattan. When we reach her apartment, I clear my throat.

But what am I supposed to say? Thanks for the lovely memories of a beautiful night I’ll never forget?

I can't say that, though. Things are strained between us, but it’s for the best because we can’t be together.

Instead, I use my best professional voice. “See you at the office.”

She gives a cursory wave good-bye, and I head home and sleep off the rest of my bad decisions until Monday morning comes and I have to face her again.

17

By now it should be apparent that I don’t always make the best choices with women. Not sure why. Maybe I have a sign on my forehead that says, “Crazy? Consider me. I pair well with insane women. Like a good wine and cheese.”

I don’t blame the women because I’m a man who takes responsibility for his shit. I know I’m the one with the problem, and it started with Roxy. She caught my eye during my senior-year astronomy elective. We moved in together after college, and she worked late hours in public relations at a big New York firm. I burned the midnight oil, too, trying to earn my stripes as a master carpenter. Roxy was great, totally supportive, and everything a young guy working his way up in Manhattan could want—fun, supportive, and upbeat, as well as wild in the sack. But that’s not the point. The point is she’s the one who urged me to strike out on my own and build my carpentry business. She even provided some tips and guidance on incorporating.

Can you tell where this is going?

Yeah, so can I.

She was instrumental in encouraging me to start my shop, but after she spread her legs for the banker, I encouraged her to spread her wings from my life and get the fuck out of my apartment.

She packed up and shacked up with him. Too bad that wasn’t the last of her. A month later, she tried to dig her claws into my business, claiming in her legal motion that she provided the “intellectual capital” to help me get started. That her late nights plotting and planning with me meant she deserved a piece of WH Carpentry & Construction. All that cheerleading had to have earned her something, she claimed.

She wanted a percentage of the revenue in perpetuity, and she was ready to fight me for it.

It was a mess, and my buddy Chase put me in touch with his cousin, who’s a total shark of a lawyer. He helped me out, and I owe them both big time.

I wish I could see this kind of thing coming. I wish I knew when I was going to get involved with someone who’d try to kick me in the balls of my business. I’ve wondered if I am too trusting, but honestly, I don’t think that’s the issue. I’m not a fall-first-ask-questions-later kind of guy.