Authors: Mary Beth Daniels
Tags: #Fiction, #Humorous, #Humor, #General, #Romance, #Contemporary, #Contemporary Women, #Weddings, #gay marriage, #election, #Prop 8
His black bowling shoes were shined to a high gloss, and I could only stare them, refusing to look up. “But will they revoke all the marriage licenses? Will the Hoebags lose their married status?”
Martin(a) shoved another glass of champagne at me. “The attorney general will fight that. He’s on our side on this.”
By the time we left, the numbers were awful. 52 percent voting yes to ban. We left the gallery feeling morose and I wanted to talk to someone.
Even though it was 2 a.m. in Texas, I opened the door to my hotel room and flopped on the bed, turning to the speed dial on my cell phone. Bradford was number three, behind my dad and…Fern. I needed to delete her.
I sat by the bathroom counter, running my hands along the cold surface. After deciding to stay in San Diego, I had returned to the same hotel and asked for Bradford’s room. Sentimental foolishness, I knew, but it made me feel less lonely to know I had sat there with him. I faced the mirror as I peeled off the pink dress. My hair was beautiful still, straight to my shoulders. The underslip was loose and flattering, satiny and smooth.
I leaned against the wall and poised my finger over his name, nervous to call. He was probably sleeping. And it could be that he wasn’t alone.
The thought stopped me cold, and I set the phone down. We’d set the six months for a reason, so I could get divorced, and stop reeling from all the changes in my life.
But he was probably as upset as me. He might have even thought of me, hanging out with the Hoebags at Nikki’s, where they had planned to watch the returns.
I picked up the phone again and before I could stop myself, scrolled down to his name and pushed “call.”
Mary Beth’s favorite gay marriage links.
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