The Scandal (Single in Seattle #2) - Kristen Proby Page 0,2

says.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“We went to get our marriage license,” Brandon adds, speaking for the first time—and he doesn’t sound pleased at all. “And we can’t get it because Danny’s already married.”

“To you,” Danny adds helpfully.

“No way.” I shake my head and lean back in my chair, crossing my legs. “It didn’t even look like a real chapel. I mean, Elvis can’t marry people, Dan.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Brandon mutters, pulling his hand down his face.

“You’re an attorney,” I remind Brandon. “So, give us a quickie divorce or an annulment or whatever, and we’ll get on with our lives.”

“I always did want to be a divorcée,” Danny says and waggles his eyebrows. “But not from B, of course.”

“Well, then you’re welcome.” I smile at him, but Brandon isn’t laughing.

“I can’t be the attorney on record for this,” he says. “It’s a conflict of interest. But here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to come to my offices tomorrow at ten in the morning and meet with my partner, Gray. He will handle this mess. And, hopefully, it won’t dick with our wedding date.”

“We’re moving forward with the wedding no matter what,” Danny informs him. “If we have to take care of legal stuff later, so be it, but the wedding for friends and family is happening.”

Brandon sighs, and I feel bad.

“Listen, B, I’m sorry. We didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know. But it just reinforces that you two are never allowed to go to Vegas together again. Ever.”

“It wasn’t just the two of us there,” I point out, but when his eyes flash through the phone, I zip my lips. “We’ll figure this out, and everything will be okay. I’ll change some things in my schedule so I can go see Ray tomorrow.”

“His name is Gray,” Brandon corrects me. “Grayson Sterling. And don’t be late, okay? Danny, I’ll see you at home.”

“Okay. I love you,” Danny says, turning the camera back to his face. “I’ll make this all up to you, I promise.”

Danny makes kissy faces at the phone, and when Brandon clicks off, my friend blows out a breath and slumps back in the chair.

“Well, shit,” he says. “Honey, I can’t make it at ten tomorrow.”

“But—”

“I need you to go, and I’ll swing through and sign the papers later in the day.”

“You’re ditching me on our divorce?” I demand and glare at him. “Did our marriage mean so little to you?”

Danny snorts out a laugh. “B’s pissed.”

“I don’t blame him. You married someone else. A woman.”

He shivers at the thought, which makes me laugh again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go meet with this old attorney dude, and we’ll get it all worked out. I’m sorry. I should have known better. Of course, Vegas weddings are real. But we were so drunk that I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“Honey, I never think straight.”

I cough over the sip of coffee I just took, and Danny rushes around my desk to pat me on the back.

“I’ll divorce you. You don’t have to kill me.”

“Oh, a widower,” he says with too much delight. “That trumps divorcée.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Which is why I’m so damn good at my job, and you love me so much.” He winks at me. “Hey, why do you think Gray’s an old guy?”

“With a name like Grayson Sterling? That has old attorney written all over it.”

“Whatever you say,” he replies and stands to leave my office. “Thanks, babe. See ya.”

He waves and leaves my office, seemingly without a care in the world.

That’s what I love about Danny. He may be a tad dramatic, but he’s fun, and he lets so much roll off his back. Brandon is much more serious. The two of them balance each other out perfectly.

I feel bad that we might have done something to mess up their wedding.

After making some calls and juggling tomorrow’s schedule, I lock up my office and leave for the day. I’m meeting with my cousins for dinner at one of our favorite restaurants.

The Celtic Swell is an Irish pub not too far from where I live on Alki Beach on the west side of Seattle. The drive there from downtown Seattle can be tricky in traffic, but I know all the tips and tricks of driving the backroads and arrive just five minutes late.

Olivia and Lucy are already sitting at a high table with three pints of beer.

“Hey,” I say as I lean over to kiss Liv and then Lucy on the cheek before climbing onto the tall stool.

“You’re only five