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“Well, it should. Art should be celebrated. And what better way than giving your work a name.”

My throat tightens. I busy myself by cleaning the brush, because that’s safer than letting the words land too deeply. “You hungry? I can heat up the leftovers.”

“Starving, actually.”

We move to the kitchen, keeping our voices low out of habit even though Tilly’s asleep down the hall. I plate food while Ollie grabs us waters before glancing my way.

“What?” I ask.

“I like that you’re making this place less of a bachelor pad.”

I snort in reply. “Your band posters are still very much giving bachelor vibes.”

“Those stay,” he says with a grin.

“Obviously.”

We eat standing at the counter. Ollie tells me about the shop and the customer who insisted on a hideous color. “I couldn’t justify painting a beautiful car a neon pink.”

I nod my head in amusement. “I wish I could’ve seen your face.”

“And then Marcus accidentally mixed up two paint samples and panicked as if it was the end of the world. An hour ago, Dennis being Dennis, flirted with a woman who came in for an estimate and dropped a wrench on his own foot.”

“It sounds like you had a busy start to your day,” I say with a laugh, covering my mouth with a napkin.

Before Ollie has time to reply, Tilly makes a small noise and he sets his fork down. “I should check on her and get back to work.”

“And I’ll get back to painting.”

He stretches, eyes flicking to me as he drags a hand over the back of his neck. Then says, “Thank you for lunch.”

“No worries.”

Ollie checks his watch again and steps toward his bedroom door. “Text me if you need anything. I’ll be at the shop until we close at six.”

“I will,” I reply.

I’m rinsing the brushes in the bathroom when my phone rings a few hours later. The number on the screen makes my stomach drop. I stare at it, hoping that ringing stops if I ignore it. But I know it doesn’t work that way, so I swipe to answer.

“Hi, Peyton,” Winona, our family lawyer, says. “Do you have a moment?”

Her voice is calm and professional as always. My skin goes clammy anyway and I sink onto the tiled floor, staring at my paint-stained fingertips. “Sure.”

“Well, it turns out Nathan was married before you and never got a divorce.”

I blink slowly, my brain trying to make the words fit together. They don’t make any sense. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Remember the post you saw on social media? Well, so did someone who knows Nathan’s first wife back in Oklahoma. Now, I don’t have more information yet. But I did some digging and your marriage was never legally standing.”

This can’t be happening. I mean, I wanted to get divorced from the two-timing asshole, but he was married to someone else this entire time? No way. Should I call him a three-timing asshole now?

“I—sorry, but it’s a lot to process.”

“Do you want me to call you back so we can discuss the annulment process? Because of your parents' connections, we can get it done in less than two weeks.”

I guess having a former mayor for a mother comes with a few advantages. “Send me the papers and I’ll have a look later, okay?”

“Call me if you have questions once you’ve read everything. And Peyton?” I acknowledge her with a hum. “It’s normal to feel conflicted. Finalization brings up a lot. Don’t be afraid to go through the emotions…all of them.”