Page 110 of One Night with Number Nineteen

“Mom says I can have a snack.”

“Yeah? Want me to help you make it?”

Another nod.

“Cool. Why don’t you wash your hands and I’ll be right there?”

“’Kay!”

He runs off and I move to the front door, find Lainey standing on the porch.

“Pages,” I say quickly. “I’m sorry that I overslept. Ollie⁠—”

She touches my cheek. “You were exhausted, handsome. I made the decision to let you sleep.”

Maybe.

But I still should have set an alarm, should have gone with her to grab Ollie. She was tired too, and I’m already gone so much for hockey, there’s so much she has to do on her own, has done on her own⁠—

“Lainey?” I ask, realizing she hasn’t moved inside, that she’s frowning.

Then I realize something else.

“Why didn’t you park in the garage, Pages?”

A shake of her head as she walks over to the railing that surrounds the porch, picks up a wineglass, turning it from side to side.

“What?” she asks distractedly.

“Why didn’t you pull into the garage, Lanes?”

“Oh.” She blinks. “The garbage cans are blocking the driveway,” she murmurs.

I look up, see the trio of cans are indeed in the way. “I’ll grab those for you.”

“Thanks,” she says, still distracted.

I walk over, snag two of the cans, and roll them to the side of the house. But before I can grab the third one, she’s bringing it over. I take it from her, slide it into place⁠—

“What?”

“Pages?”

But she’s crouching down, picking up a piece of paper from the ground. “I don’t understand.”

I bend down next to her, taking the page from her shaking hands, trying to make sense of the words—something that’s hard because it’s smeared and wrinkled and torn.

Then I do.

“Shit, baby,” I tell her. “I’m sure we can get another copy.” It’s an official document, I’ll find out how to request another.

Her brows drag together. “What?”

“I know it’s your marriage license,” I say gently. “We’ll figure out how to get another copy.”

“I have another copy,” she tells me. “And I have the original. I just…”

“You just what?”