“Just write your initials on the margin of the second page, too, so we do not have to go back to the notary,” he said.
“Is the twelve-month marriage clause legally binding, Scott?” I asked, turning to face him.
He froze, his fingers lingering on the silver pen on the counter.
“Where did you hear about that?”
“Jerome showed me the terms of the will this afternoon,” I said, keeping my voice level as I set the teapot down.
Scott laughed, a quick, dry sound that had no humor in it, his eyes narrowing.
“It is a standard probate trick to keep people from running off,” he said, starting his pace again. “It is completely unenforceable, Avery, but we still need these deeds signed to handle the tax liabilities before the court gets involved.”
“I am not signing anything tonight,” I said.
I lifted my mug of tea and walked past him into the hallway, my shoulder brushing his sleeve.
“You are being completely unreasonable,” he called out after me, his voice sharp with a sudden, desperate edge.
I did not answer him.
