Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Except the part where you’re completely heartbroken over that fact. That’s a lie.”
I hesitate for only a fraction of a second. “Right. So there was a little lie. But it worked, so … cheers?”
I lift my glass and smile, but Colin doesn’t return the smile. Or the gesture.
“About Rebecca. I need to tell you something,” he says.
Oooh boy. I take a big sip of my drink and set it back on the bar. “Okay.”
“You know she’s been struggling with this whole situation.”
Understatement. “Yeah.”
He scratches his temple, looking uncharacteristically nervous. “I did end up telling her about our trip Upstate a few weeks ago. It didn’t feel right to keep it a secret.”
“I’m assuming she wasn’t thrilled.”
“No. And not long after that conversation, she ran into a friend of hers. An ex.”
My eyes go wide. “Oh my God. She hooked up with him? She cheated? Oh my God, they could make a movie about us. Or a soap opera.”
“What? No, she didn’t cheat.” He frowns. “Why do you automatically go there? She just ran into her ex at a restaurant shortly after she and I got into a fight. They sat down to catch up, had too much wine—”
“Sorry, but how is this not leading up to a cheating story?”
He blows out an impatient breath. “Anyway. She told him about the circumstances of our marriage. The real circumstances. And I’m fairly certain the man still has feelings for Rebecca, and he’s never liked me. Rebecca fears he’s the one who sent the letter to Immigration Services, and I think she’s probably right.”
“Damn.” I take another sip of my drink.
Colin stares at me. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Aren’t you mad?”
“At him? I don’t even know the guy.”
“At me. For confiding in Rebecca. At her, for telling her ex and probably resulting in this whole interview process?”
I shrug. “I mean, the situation sucks, but am I mad? No. Not really. Did you think I was going to pitch a fit?” I look at him. “Oh my God, you did!”
He looks at me for a long minute. “You are never what I think you’re going to be.”
I lift my glass. “Why, thank you!”
Colin rolls his eyes, and then catches me off guard by reaching out and putting a hand in my hair, pulling me toward him. He presses a quick kiss to the side of my head. It’s a bit brotherly at first, but the way he lingers, holding me close, is not.
“Thanks,” he whispers into my hair.
“For?” My voice is a whisper as well.
I feel him give a quick shake of his head. “I don’t know. For being you, I guess.”
I run my thumb over my wedding ring and squeeze my eyes shut. The depth to which I’ve come to care for this man over the past two months takes my breath away.
And the level to which I want him to care for me back nearly breaks me.
Instead, I think of Rebecca.
I pull back and give him a quick smile. “If you’re done being weird, can we cheers to our victory? It was a victory, right? Price bought it?”
“He seemed to. And he didn’t drag me off to be detained,” Colin says, drumming his fingers against the bar. “But we still have two more meetings to get through. One of which is a home visit.”
“Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that,” I say, pursing my lips. “I have some ideas. What do you think the chances are of you getting that antique desk delivered early?”
Chapter 30
Sunday, October 25
I haven’t been avoiding my parents, per se, but Colin and I have agreed to leave them out of the mess we’ve gotten ourselves into as much as possible, so we’ve missed the past couple of Sunday dinners.
This Sunday, my mom isn’t having it.
Colin and I have been summoned. The mandatory, maternal kind of summons that’s way scarier than any ominous letter from the government accusing you of marriage fraud.
We got to my parents’ a few minutes ago, where Colin was immediately tasked with the unenviable job of showing my father how to update Microsoft Office on his Mac, which normally, would be my nightmare, but it beats my task, which is a staring contest with my mother.
I’m a little surprised when I win. She lets out a huffy sigh and takes a sip of her Chardonnay. “I swear, Charlotte, sometimes I just don’t know what to do with you.”
“I’ve been here all of ten minutes, and all I’ve done is compliment your new lipstick. How am I in trouble already?”
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
I take a sip of my sparkling water. “Nothing is going on.”
She looks perturbed. “I thought we were making progress, and now you’re clamming up. Is it The Rebecca Situation?” she asks, her tone implying she’d happily step in and remove the situation if I just asked.