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)
I go to the bedroom. I lie down on the bed.
I do not sleep.
Chapter 34
Monday, November 2
“Your support means a lot to me, truly,” I say into the phone as I pace around my temporary office space. “Yeah, it’ll be a big change, for sure, but I know I’m leaving the company in good hands. And I’ll still be around, just not in the day-to-day—”
I pause in my conversation with my CFO, giving a jolt of surprise when I see Colin standing in the open doorway. “Hey, Brian, I’m so sorry, but something just came up. Can I call you back in a bit?”
“You didn’t have to hang up,” Colin says, stepping all the way into the office as I end my call.
“Really?” I ask dubiously. “The expression on your face says otherwise.”
“What expression?”
“The one that says you’re making a rare emergence from your turtle shell. Not to mention the fact that you’re here in the first place, when I didn’t even know you knew where I worked.”
“It was on the flash cards we exchanged about each other.”
“Oh, right.” He still hasn’t moved, and I tap my phone against my palm as I watch him, trying to figure out what’s wrong. “Sorry, I don’t have a place to sit.”
The office space I’m renting is really just more of a glorified cubicle, though with closed-in walls. It’s got a desk, a chair, an ugly lamp, and really good Wi-Fi. Mostly, it’s a place to get me out of the house when I’m feeling restless and all the tables are full at Starbucks, which in New York, is basically always.
“No, it’s fine,” Colin says, looking embarrassed. “I should have texted. Or maybe I shouldn’t have come at all.” He runs a hand over the back of his neck then drops his arm. “I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
My heart does something stupid and flippy that I am the one he’s turning to. “You can always come to me.”
“It’s about Rebecca.”
Or maybe not always me. Because my heart does something else now, decidedly less happy, at the knowledge that he’s here to talk about another woman. A woman he plans to marry.
Still, I care about this man. A lot. And that means being here for him in the way he needs me to be, not how I want it to be in my daydreams.
“Ah.” I step around him and shut the door. I usually leave it open because it can get stuffy, but I know him well enough by now to know that if he doesn’t have complete privacy, there’s every chance of him retreating to his shell.
“What happened?” I ask.
He sets his bag on my chair and goes to the window, staring through the glass, I imagine without really taking much in since the “view” is really just of the rooftop of the neighboring building. It doesn’t offer much to look at besides pigeon poo.
He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I told her about the in-home interview with immigration. About how things went well and that we only had one more to go before we were in the clear.”
“That must have made her happy.”
“You’d have thought,” he says in a low tone. “But then she asked about worst-case scenario—what would happen if Gordon Price did find us guilty of marriage fraud.”
I tap my fingers on my cheek. “Well. Maybe she should have thought about that before telling her ex-boyfriend about us.”
He gives me a sardonic look over my shoulder “I thought you weren’t mad about that.”
I grin. “I may have decided that I’m a little peeved after all.”
He gives me a faint smile, though I’m pretty sure he knows I’m just trying to distract him by lightening the mood.
Colin turns back to the window. “So, I told Rebecca the truth. That we felt good about everything going our way, but if it didn’t … we could be in a bit of trouble.”
“You’d be in a bit of trouble,” I say jokingly, leaning back onto the desktop. “I’d be in a lot of trouble.”
“We’ve talked about this,” he says, turning to face me. “You’d likely be looking at a fine. Jail time would be …”
“Unlikely, I know,” I say.
And it’s true. From what I understand, while technically people can be jailed for marriage fraud, it’s generally only the people that facilitate fraudulent marriages on a large scale. When it comes to private citizens, it’s a slap on the wrists, and writing a really big check, which I’m prepared for.
And hey, if I end up in prison … adventure, right?
Just kidding. I really don’t want to go to prison. And to be honest, I do my damnedest not to think about it. Though, since we’ve brought it up …
“You know, you’d think she’d be thrilled with the possible repercussions,” I say. “Let’s not pretend that Rebecca doesn’t hate my guts. Me having to write a six-figure check or get put behind bars must just tickle her.”