The Classic Placeholder Husband

"It doesn't have to be this way," she pleaded in a small voice.

He shook his head sadly. "No, it didn't, but you dealt these cards. I'm simply playing my hand." He cleared his throat. "My attorney will depose you, Scooter, your parents, his parents, and your friends. Since you've told me when you cheated, it will be easy to match phone records, your comp and vacation time, his travel schedule, and anything else germane."

"Leave our parents out of this!" she demanded.

Mike chuckled. "Why, Honey? Dot and Bill love me." He looked at Averill and said, "My in-laws and I are tight, Scooter. I know for a fact that they're not fans of yours."

Paige stepped forward and started to speak, but Mike cut her off. "You know how they feel about him." She sighed and started to look ill. "Paige, imagine how hard it will be to explain this to your parents."

"You bastard!" Averill growled and stormed off toward the kitchen.

Desperately, Paige pursued her soul mate. Mike said, "Make me a better offer, or I will see you in court. You won't survive discovery." As she stepped from his sight, Mike shouted, "Go to trial, and it's all in the public record."

Another argument ensued deep in the kitchen, and Mike decided to wet his whistle with the first single malt he found in the liquor cabinet.

For several minutes, Mike sipped his drink and studied the backyard. He mentally added a pool, a rose bed, and a flock of plastic pink flamingos. He included a swing set and play fort covered with cute little urchins.

"You win, Mike." There was the familiar form again, but it was harsh and angry. As Mike turned, Paige withdrew another folder from her briefcase.

She slapped it against his chest. "Oh?" he acted surprised. "Another offer?"

Paige's eyes narrowed angrily. "Show some magnanimity, asshole. You know I could not and would not lie to Abe. You know me too damn well," she said almost wistfully. "Worse, Abe knows you too damn well.

"He told me what I did is insane and unethical, but Avey and I must be together. Abe demanded I settle with you, whatever the cost, or it's my career and possibly my law license. So here it is, you smug bastard. Here's your payoff! You win!"

Mike didn't respond because he had won more than Paige could offer.

She mistook his silence for hesitation and snarled, "Just read and sign it, you smug bastard."

Mike saw hatred in her fiery caramel eyes and realized she never loved him. She loved what he could do and did for her, and now they were done. This was payment for services rendered. Ending with a cold and forced legal transaction was a sad metaphor for the marriage.

He poured over the stunning offer--Abe's fingerprints were all over it. He kept the home and all the furnishings except the furniture she purchased and her personal property. They kept their individual retirement accounts, but he got their entire joint investment portfolio. That was the big payoff, the moral poultice. It worked out to a handsome payout for the years stolen from him. Their bank accounts split 75-25 to Mike. To the extent that money could compensate, Paige paid dearly for her betrayal.

Mike felt grateful and fortunate, leaving his dysfunctional marriage for something better. It was ending better than he could have imagined that morning.

As he perused the divorce papers, Mike noticed legal secretary Marla Smith standing inside the formal dining room.

"Why are you here?" Mike asked, knowing why.

"So sorry, Mike." Embarrassed, Marla's voice was flat and oddly formal. "Rose didn't want to do this, and since I work for Abe..." she smiled wanly.

"Paige, you wanted Rose here?" Mike asked drily. Rose Parsons was Paige's legal secretary and, along with her husband, Al, friends of Mike and Paige.

At the end of her rope, Paige snapped, "Yes! Let's get it over!"

Mike checked the first proposed divorce settlement and noticed that, like most legal paperwork, it was a boilerplate pro forma document. Each page had to be initialed, but the angry and paranoid part of him imagined Paige or Averill swapping the notarized signature page from the second document to the body of the first offer. Yes, she'd have to initial the substituted pages, but like most wives, Paige could passably forge her spouse's signature.

They both signed the divorce papers, and Marla notarized them. Mike grabbed the unsigned first set of divorce papers as Marla recorded their identification information and other details in her notary record.

"What do you think you're doing?" demanded Paige.

"Covering my ass," he responded as he walked down the short hallway toward his office. Paige flew through the door as the paper shredder consumed the last pages of the first settlement.

"Damn you! Together all this time, and you hold me in such low regard? Do you really think I would..."

"Deceive me? Cheat me? Betray me?" Mike faced her and asked, "What would ever possess me to think that, Paige Elizabeth?"

"You're overreacting..." she began.

Mike cut her off, "Am I?" He glanced at Averill, who stepped into the small room. "If you don't like what's happening, understand that you and this fool created it!"

Averill forced himself between Paige and Mike and shoved the smaller man with his chest. "I've had it with you, Keppler!"

Mike pushed back against Averill's bulk. "You were warned!"

Averill grabbed Mike's wrists, and in a flash, Mike stomped his left foot and easily twisted from his grasp.

Paige's scream drowned out Averill's cry of pain. "No! Mike, stop it!" she screeched.

Steeping close, Mike connected with a rapid combination to Averill's soft belly and ribs, but with so much to lose, he pulled his punches. Soft and untrained, Averill stumbled against the wall.

"That's assault and battery," Mike hissed. "Now, leave, or I'll call the cops!"

"Please, let's not part like this!" she cried.

"Out now! You're free. Be gone," Mike shouted.

Averill glared, but he had no fight left. In a low voice, he said, "She was mine all along." He smirked at Mike as he stepped around Paige. "Come on, Baby. Let's start the rest of our beautiful lives together."

Paige departed, but Averill stayed near the doorway and arrogantly asked, "So, how does it feel having your woman taken away from you?" He snorted.

Mike smiled and said, "Maybe the better question is, 'Why did you let another man use your woman for almost five years?' That's just sick."

Averill slammed the door so hard that Mike's ears popped, and velvet Elvis fell off the wall. Mike smiled, pumped his fist, and whispered, "Yesssssssss! It's done."

He watched as they shuffled past--it wasn't over until they departed. Averill struggled with two giant suitcases, and Paige trailed behind with another one and a large shoulder bag.

Averill trudged ahead, ignoring Mike. Paige looked at Mike, her eyes full of unshed tears, and she wore an expression of... regret? When she stepped through the front door, she burst out crying. Her lover returned and slammed the door without looking at him.

Mike felt a pang of nostalgia, but it was for the good times they shared. As they drove away, Mike let out a huge sigh and walked back toward the family room. Apparently, Marla Smith had left earlier through the back door to catch a taxi or Uber.

Happily Ever After Begins

Mike shredded the file folder in his briefcase and called a number labeled 'FH Analytics' on his phone.

"Mike! How did it go?" she asked breathlessly. "Tell me it's over...that you're all right!"

"Better than I ever imagined, Freya."

"Really?" she asked surprised. "So... she didn't explode when you gave her divorce papers?"

Mike snickered. "Nope, because she beat me to it."

"Wait...she served you with divorce papers?" Freya exclaimed.

"Yes, she and her old boyfriend did!" Mike gushed.

"What? Boyfriend?" Her tone was joyful disbelief. "Did she..."

"Dropped me like a hot rock," Mike replied. "But I ran the table in a game I didn't know I was in. I can't wait to tell you--it's an unbelievable story."

Her cell phone connected with the hands-free of her Acura. "I'm coming over!"

"Sure, Baby. Drive carefully because our 'happily ever after' has already begun!"

A shapely 5'10", 146 pounds, with dark red hair and seafoam green, slightly almond eyes, Freya Hauptmann lives up to her name. She's truly a wild goddess, and like an elegant feline, she sat curled up in the big leather chair.

That the family room felt calm, safe, and inviting was entirely attributable to the change in female presence.

"Let me get this straight," Freya chuckled. "Her old fiancée came to sweep her away while she served you with divorce papers?"

"Yep," Mike grinned. "Ironically, the first settlement she offered me was exactly the offer I was going to present her with."

Freya exclaimed, "Unbelievable!" She nodded at his copy of the final settlement on the coffee table. "So, tell me how you got that deal."

Mike spent the next few minutes explaining. He concluded, "I shredded the divorce papers I was going to give her right after we hung up. I then called Thomas and told him the story. He'll shred the originals tomorrow."

"A lot less work for him and cheaper for us," she stated.

"Thomas will represent me until the divorce is final. I shouldn't even need to show up in court," Mike said.

"I'm glad Cara is our business attorney," Freya observed. Cara was Thomas' law partner and wife. "She sure handled that lawsuit Wardlow filed against us.

Mike added, "We won our case and became much more than business associates." They laughed and clinked their glasses, "Here's to Carlton Wardlow!" Mike said. "And to the good lawyers in this world!"

"Bless all dozen of them," Freya added drily. She pulled Mike into the chair. Kissing him warmly, she said, "So, when is the house officially yours? I'm itching to erase her presence."

"The day the divorce becomes final." Mike kissed the back of her long, slim hand and whispered. "Now, she gets five days to pack and remove her things." He looked into her greenish eyes. "I might rent that Air B&B on Sprague near our office," he said lightly.

She shook her head. "Not happening. I have a bed with your name on it, Big Boy." They both giggled. "Best of all, I promise no hidden boyfriends dropping out of the sky, either," she stated with playful seriousness, her eyes sparkling.

Mike theatrically rubbed his chin. "Hmmmm... I'll take it... but only if you have free Wi-Fi." He paused. "And a wanton, sex-crazed bedmate."

Her eyes widened. "Do you mean that?" she beamed.

Mike nodded. "Yes, I do. I'm so ready to make love to you."

"Knowing you, I can guess what changed your mind after all this time." She wanted to hear him say it.

Mike nodded. "After discovering my marriage was a lie and that she was never faithful or truthful, I no longer feel bound by my wedding vows. So, I'm all yours, body and soul."

"And mind, too," she whispered, wrapping her long arms around his neck. "I love you and your sexy mind."

Their kiss echoed off the walls like a thunderclap. Or so it seemed.

The End Game

The sixty days required for the divorce flew by for Mike and Freya. Paige removed her things from the home, including the furniture she purchased. Before departing, Paige left her wedding and engagement rings on the breakfast bar. It felt like something between a Cold War spy swap in the center of Glienicke Bridge and a narcissistic Parthian shot. He sold all three rings at an inner-city pawnshop, donated the money to the nearby Well of Hope Mission, and tossed the receipt into a storm sewer. An hour later, he couldn't recall how much he got for them.

Mike bided his time until the final divorce decree and final orders were issued. Common sense dictated that Paige wouldn't stop the divorce and refile. Abe assured that by essentially dictating the divorce terms. However, Mike knew irrational people often defied common sense, so he was careful. As in boxing, he kept up his guard.

He and Freya maintained their growing business relationship by merging their two small firms. Working together provided some cover for their personal relationship, which was growing closer and fuller by the day.

Paige's story was that their split was amicable, and miraculously, an old boyfriend came out of nowhere to comfort and console her. For the time being, Mike neither challenged nor confirmed her version. That changed once the divorce was final. Mike countered Paige's version with the truth, which posed another problem: people had trouble believing such a crazy story. To the world at large, a more believable "She cheated with Averill" found traction. Close friends and family knew the truth; the others didn't matter.

Just before the divorce was final, Mike's father-in-law, Bill, phoned. Direct as always, he asked, "Why did you let my daughter do this to you and call us?" he asked, his voice shaking. "She shows up this past Sunday with that idiot in tow, wearing a rock the size of our Rottweiler, and says, 'Daddy, me, you, Mom, and Avey need to talk.' Oh, did we ever talk! Or rather, she spoke because Dot and I were speechless!

"She described the psychotic bullshit she pulled on you and then said your freaking divorce will be final this week!" His voice cracked, and Mike realized he wept from anger or grief. In a whisper, Bill asked, "Why, Mike... why the hell didn't you call us? Maybe we could've..." He paused, sighed, and said, "After what she did, nothing was left, was there?"

Mike responded, "That's right. No coming back from that.

"What I can do is apologize to you and Dottie for not reaching out sooner." Bill chuckled, as only Mike could call her that. "Honestly, I didn't know what to say or how to explain things. At the time, I struggled with it. Now, all I can do is wonder at the... the mental state of those two."

"You're right, Mike. I think Paige and that idiot need some psychiatric help." Bill noisily blew his nose. "I'm putting you on speaker because Dot is here with me."

Mike and Dot exchanged subdued greetings.

Bill said, "We got this crazy story from Paige, and Averill sat there and confirmed everything she said. The tale she told is unbelievable, but the bottom line is she married you only until Averill returned for her. Is that true?"

Dot broke in. "You know we taught her better than that. Our other two kids are wonderful! Mike, you know how much we love you. That's why Bill and I are heartbroken, and please, Honey, we're so sorry this happened! You're the best thing to ever happen to our oldest daughter."

Mike spent the next hour telling his side of events and generally catching up with the other two casualties of their daughter's madness. Before the call ended, all three agreed that Paige and Averill needed psychological counseling. They also promised to keep in touch and, depending on Freya's feelings, perhaps maintain a friendship. Thinking about how much that would piss off Averill and Paige lifted Mike's spirits.

With the divorce final, Freya and Mike threw a party for friends and family to make their relationship official. They held the event in Mike's sparsely furnished home using rented event furniture. Most attendees either knew or suspected the true nature of their relationship, and more were becoming aware of Paige's marital deception. This festive occasion directly and publicly closed one book while opening a new one. Two days later, Freya and the movers showed up and traded the contents of her condo for the rented furnishings.

Less than three months later, they had a small, late-spring wedding at a small venue close to Freya's parent's home.

Life went on, and two weeks past the first anniversary of Mike's divorce, he and Freya got a text from Bill.

While Mike shaved, Freya leaned against the doorframe, reading her phone. "Bill sent us a link to a wedding announcement," she chuckled, "with crying laughter emojis." Mike still marveled that Freya embraced his ex-in-laws as friends, with she and Dot sharing several common interests.

"Oh?" Mike questioned. Freya was playfully drawing this out. "So, Darling, pray tell what type of wedding announcement would William and Dorthea send us?" He shook off a trickle of unsettling and strange emotions from old wounds.

Dramatically, she cleared her throat and shook back her auburn curls. "Mr. and Mrs. Marcus Edward Margolis are proud to announce the engagement of their daughter, Cyndee Lexis, to Averill Simpson Dirkfeld, son of..."

"What?" Mike dropped his razor in the sink. "No, he didn't!" he guffawed.

Freya said, "Bill also texted us: 'I'm giving 3:1 odds that Cyndee Lexis is a stripper!'" She added, "Oh, and Dot texted: 'Good riddance! Now we can get somebody some help.'" Dot remained worried about Paige's mental health.

Freya tossed Mike a towel. "Dot's right." Noticing Mike's strange half-smile, she said, "Something's bouncing around inside your sexy brainpan. Give."

Mike winced as he splashed on aftershave. He also drew out the moment. "Soooo, what if?" He chuckled. "What if Avey is getting back at Paige for forcing him to accept a placeholder husband? Hell, this is the second engagement he's broken with her." He paused and added, "Maybe he knows something nobody else does!"

They laughed, and Freya agreed, "That makes perfect sense." Checking her phone, Freya smirked, "I think Bill's running a sucker bet on us." She showed Mike her cell phone. "Here's Cyndee Lexis Margolis' Instagram page."

Mike saw a mid-twenties bottle blonde with a pair of bolt-on boobs, enhanced lips, painted-on eyebrows, and two-inch fake lashes. The fake cherry-red talons and heavy pornstar make-up added more context to the message: 'Hawt New Pics on my OnlyFans.'

Mike shook his head in wonder. "Old Avey can pick 'em, can't he? If ordinary crazy doesn't work out, try extra crispy crazy!"

"I'm kind of surprised, considering," Freya said. "He and Paige should've married about the time we did."

Mike shrugged. "No clue, Dear. Not my monkey, not my circus." He kissed the tip of his wife's thin, aquiline nose. "I'm just grateful you rescued me."

Freya smiled lovingly. Grabbing both ends of the towel around Mike's neck, she pulled her shirtless, clean-smelling husband against her. Looking into his eyes, she asked, "Remember that crib at the Amish store on Route 9?" Mike's surprised smile began spreading. "I went back and bought it yesterday. Let's get your truck..."

Mike's kiss interrupted her in mid-sentence.

"Holding onto anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die." -- Attributed to Alcoholics Anonymous