Chapter Seven.

“You gotta admit that was funny.”

“It was not...” Amanda trailed off. “Well, maybe it was...”

Night had fallen in Orlando, and they’d finally managed to get Sandra and Nick out of the house and back to their own. Now, they were in the middle of a late dinner, consisting of Chinese take-out and old movies in AJ’s living room, discussing the day’s events. Particularly the scene Sandra had made when they announced what they’d done.

“It was more than funny,” AJ told her. “That was downright hysterical.”

His friend had hit the roof. Well, after the color had drained from her face, anyway. Once the news sank in, she went straight for AJ, grabbing him by the shoulders tightly, daring him to take it back.

“I’ve never lied to you, San,” he’d told her. “Why would I start now?”

She shook her head slowly and turned to Amanda, who only nodded and repeated that it wasn’t her fault. Nick then demanded and explanation, which they both got the second they’d settled into the living room. As Sandra and Nick listened intently, AJ and Amanda took turns explaining how they’d gotten from the living room the night before, to Vegas, and then back. Once finished, they sat in a dead silence for what seemed an eternity, until Nick burst into laughter. Sandra shot him a surprised glare, asking what he found so funny.

“Look at them!” he’d said. “I only joked that they looked like newlyweds, and look what they went and did!”

“So this was YOUR fault?!” Sandra exclaimed. “Nick, I can’t believe you!”

Before another of their now famous “Nick and Sandra” fights could ensue, AJ had jumped in and calmed her down, assuring her that Nick was not to blame. Nick then subtly suggested they go home, “Let the newlyweds have their time alone,” he’d laughed, only to be greeted with an elbow in the ribcage, courtesy of the woman he loved.

“I thought San was going to kill Nick,” Amanda giggled.

“Don’t bet against it now,” he told her. “They do live together, you know. Anything goes when he’s alone with her. Hell, she’s probably giving him the cold shoulder and plotting his death as we speak.”

“Yeah, you have a point,” Amanda nodded. “AJ, what do we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I want a divorce.”

“You’re not getting it,” he sighed. “Manda, give me a chance. We can do this.”

“AJ, we can’t. It’s just not.. practical.”

“Look at me,” he laughed. “I’m not exactly the poster child for practicality. Give me a chance, Manda. If I don’t convince you, then we’ll work something out.”

“A divorce?” she asked.

“Persistence, thy name is Amanda,” he sighed. “Yeah. Anything you want.”

“Finally,” she grinned. “Our first real agreement.”

‘Right,’ AJ thought smugly. ‘One I’m not exactly thrilled about, either.’

He knew he was on limited time now; he had to show her what they could have, how happy they could be as soon as possible. He was not about to go down without a very thorough, very good fight.

[chapter list | chapter eight]