Before she could charge at me again, I'd already pulled out my phone, snapped a photo of the marriage certificate, and sent it to Julian with a message.
Julian.
I hear you got married.
How come I wasn't invited to the wedding?
"Babe!"
The call had already connected.
Julian's voice echoed through the living room.
"I can explain!"
"This is all a misunderstanding!"
"Babe!"
There was rustling on Julian's end, followed by the sound of a car door slamming shut. "I'm coming to you right now."
"Don't rush."
"Whatever it is, we'll talk when I get there."
Julian was still talking.
Lucille had already lost it, screaming into the phone like a woman unhinged.
"Julian James! Whose husband are you?! Who are you protecting?!"
Lucille's shrill, crumbling voice echoed through the living room. I took another slow look around the apartment. The decor was warm, inviting. Pink curtains framed the windows. A cream-colored sofa sat in the center. An entire wall was lined with shelves of collectible figurines, and even the refrigerator was decorated with little good-luck magnets and holiday cards.
A pair of blue cartoon slippers sat by the shoe rack, clearly the matching set to the ones on Lucille's feet.