"Please," she repeated.
The tears finally escaped, sliding silently down her cheeks.
"My life depends on it."
He sighed then reached into his jacket pocket. Dorian pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief. He held it toward her.
Naomi took it from him. Even his handkerchief probably had a better credit score than she did. She dabbed beneath her eyes.
Dorian looked away again, giving her what little privacy existed inside a parked car. "I’ll look into it."
Naomi lowered the handkerchief. "Why can’t you just sign it now?"
"Because I am a lawyer."
The statement meant absolutely nothing to her. Her face made that very clear.
Dorian sighed. "I don’t sign things blindly," he clarified. "I need to be certain." He continued before she could start another argument. "I need to verify the marriage license, and everything connected to whatever happened that night."
Naomi frowned. "You think I fabricated all this?"
"I remember fucking you. That does not prove I married you," he added.
Naomi folded his handkerchief over in her hands. "And if you confirm that you did?"
"Then I deal with it."
"How?"
"I said I’ll look into it."
"Well..." she gave him a look that said ’go on then’
"What?" Dorian stared at her.
God.
Those eyes.
He remembered those eyes. Naomi pointed at the file between them.
"Be certain."
Dorian frowned. "Now?"
"Yes, now." She snapped the words like there had never been another acceptable option.
Dorian groaned audibly and tipped his head back against the seat. He pulled out his phone and hit speed dial number one.
The call was answered almost immediately.
"Adrian? Are you still at the clerk’s office?"
A pause.
He listened.
Dorian suddenly turned toward her. The phone was still pressed to his ear. "Are you fucking kidding me?" His eyes hardened. "I’m on the news already?"
Naomi’s shoulders shrank.
Ah.
That.
Right.
Dorian stared at her. "You happy now?"
Naomi gave him a sheepish look. Dorian turned his attention back to the call. His voice became clipped again.
"Alright. Thank you, Adrian. Meet me at the office." He hung up.
Naomi leaned slightly toward him. "Wha... what... uh... what did he say?"
Because unless Adrian had secretly communicated through telepathy, Naomi had no idea how that conversation had yielded anything useful.
All she had heard was clerk’s office, news, thank you, and office. That was barely a conversation. Dorian slipped the phone back into his pocket.
"Yes, we are married."
Her entire face lit with vindication. "Ah! Ah! I told you!" she yelled. "I told you!"
Ah.
So she was one of those women. The ones who collected the phrase I told you so and kept it for moments of triumph.
Dorian reached for the steering wheel. Naomi reached for the file.
"So, sign it." She shoved it toward him again.
Dorian looked down. He did not take them. "No."
Her eyes became larger than life itself. "Excuse me?"
Dorian leaned back. "You heard me."
"You just confirmed we are married."
"Yes."
"So sign it."
"No." Dorian could practically watch smoke beginning to rise from her brain.
"You... you..." Naomi pointed at him. "Are you yanking my chain?"
"No."
"Then what exactly is happening?"
"I cannot afford a fourth divorce."
"Who are you exactly? Ross Geller?"
Dorian frowned. "Who is that?"
"You don’t know who Ross Geller is?"
"No."
The expression on her face suggested there was simply no way he had been living on planet Earth without knowing who Ross Geller was.
"Friends?"
Dorian gave her a blank look.
"The TV show?" she prompted.
Still confused.
She waited another second as if the information might eventually arrive. It did not. "You know what?" Naomi sighed. "Never mind."
Honestly, this man had bigger problems than a fourth divorce. He did not know Ross Geller. Dorian clearly did not understand why she suddenly looked disappointed in him, and judging by the expression on his face, he did not particularly care.
He picked up the divorce file again. "How about this?...I will look into the details and get back to you."
"Okay... uh... how soon do you think you will get back to me?"
"You act like being married to me is a disease."
"I wouldn’t exactly say disease..."
Dorian’s eyes narrowed. Naomi caught it immediately.
Danger.
Reverse.
Abort.
"I’m sure you are a very good, uhm... husband. Your ex-wives probably have their own personal reasons why they, uhm... left you." She smiled nervously. "You probably don’t act like a general asshole with them."
His eyebrow went up.
Naomi winced. "That came out wrong. I mean, maybe you are nicer in relationships. Some people are. You know, like people who are horrible to everyone else but then they go home and suddenly they’re all sweet and affectionate."
Dorian continued staring at her. Naomi was now digging a hole. She knew she was digging a hole.
"I just don’t want you thinking I am insulting your ability to be married....I mean stay married... I mean..."
Dorian had absolutely no idea what the hell she was saying anymore. Worse, he had no idea what she was trying to say.
And yet...
He found himself genuinely invested in every single word coming out of her mouth. Wasn’t he just praying for her to shut up a few minutes ago?
Yes.
Now he was watching the way her lips moved while she rambled and wondering what ridiculous thing she would say next.
She was still talking. "I mean, three divorces is a lot, obviously, but relationships fail all the time. Three times is just... statistically unfortunate. Not that I think you’re cursed."
"Are you done?"
She stopped immediately. "Uhm..." Naomi seemed to genuinely consider the question. "I think so."
Thank God.
Dorian started the car again. The engine purred to life. He checked the road, then glanced at her. "Where do you have your car parked?"
"I don’t have a car," she said simply.
He pulled back onto the road. "Do you live somewhere then where I can drop you off?"