AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The day before October 22, I sent Duffy a message. I convinced myself that I needed to see if there was still a point in showing up forthe interview. Maybe she’d called the entire thing off. Hell, maybe she was working on her wedding to BJ right this moment. Maybe she was dead, and that’s why she hadn’t touched my money yet. My mind went weird places every day we were both engaged in radio silence.
Riggs: We still on for tomorrow?
Her reply came three hours later, which made me wonder what the fuck was more important than her precious green card. Or—her billionaire husband, for that matter.
Duffy: Absolutely. Again, thanks for doing that.
Riggs: Noticed you haven’t contacted my accountant yet.
Duffy: No.
Riggs: No post-nup letters from your lawyer either.
Duffy: ‘My lawyer’? I cannot afford a pedicurist anymore, Riggs. You should see my nails. I look like a sloth.
This made me laugh. Fuck, I missed this woman.
Duffy: I’m not going to touch a penny of your money. I already owe you so much.
Riggs: It’s fine. Have at it. I’ve never been enamored with wealth.
Duffy: Good. I’m beginning to see being money-hungry has a terrible price.
I stared at her message. What did she mean? I wasn’t dumb enough to ask via text.
Duffy: Anyway, see you tomorrow.
Riggs: Yeah. Tomorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
DUFFY
THE INTERVIEW
The Holy Grail had arrived. The final stop in the process of getting a visa, and, afterward, a green card—the interview.
Riggs and I met outside the USCIS building. It was the first time I’d seen him in weeks. He wore dark jeans and a button-down denim shirt, the first three buttons undone, sleeves pulled up to his elbows, exposing his muscular forearms. His hair had grown in the time I hadn’t seen him, and he looked especially delicious and grown up. So much so I wanted to cry.
“You look good.” He grinned down at me, and I mustered all my strength not to melt into a pool of emotions at his feet.
“You too. How was Morocco?”
“Humid. How was New York?”
“Same, only crowded.”
We both stared at each other, smiling like loons. Riggs was the first to break the spell. He tilted his head toward the building.
“Ready to knock ’em dead?”
“I don’t know if I am.” I ducked my head nervously. “Is ... not knocking them dead an option? Perhaps slapping them until they’re dizzy?”
Laughing, he reached for my hand, bringing it to his mouth, and my heart stopped when he brushed his lips against my knuckles.
“You’re the girl who does dioramas out of traffic cones and laminates supermarket lists. You’re ready for anything, always. Knock ’em dead, Poppins.”
The adjudicating officer was a nice man named Asher. He had a large pile of documents in front of him, next to an array of family pictures propped on his desk.
