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“No. He terrifies me every time we go to the Hamptons.”
She was definitely a backseat driver.
“Who picks up the check when you go to dinner?”
“Michael does.”
“Would you ever own a donkey?”
“What? No, of course not.”
The guy glanced up and grinned. “That isn’t a real question. I just like to lighten the mood. This doesn’t have to be a scary process.”
You clearly had to be an insider to get immigration humor.
We were in there for another twenty minutes answering a barrage of random but mostly predictable questions and then we were finally sprung when our
interviewer got a phone call.
Downstairs we stepped outside to a sunny and hot day in June. I put my hand on the small of Felicia’s back.
I knew exactly what she would say first. I could guarantee it.
“He didn’t even look at my scrapbook,” she complained.
Yep. That’s what I thought she would say.
I put on sunglasses and peeled off my suit jacket. I had to go back to work. I still had a full afternoon of patient appointments. “I can’t stop picturing you as a spy. Can we role-play tonight?”
She laughed. “Sure. The world’s most elusive and pregnant spy for the Crown. Don’t be an idiot.”
I leaned in close and gave her a kiss. “I’ll be your American contact and your code name for me can be Daddy.”
Her mouth rounded into an O. “I see. I think arrangements can be made, then.”
Then her phone rang in her hand. Distracted, she glanced at it. “It’s the interviewer.”
She answered and there was a lot of “uh-huhs” and then she grinned and ended the call. “I’m in,” she said. “Visa approved.”
“Are you serious? Just like that?”
“It had to be the scrapbook. Our engagement photos were to die for.”
“Of course that was it. I never doubted it.” I gave her another kiss. “I never doubted us.”
Thank you for reading Forty Day Fiancé!
Want to know what happened in the elevator with Sean and Isla?
Find out in
* * *
Who’s the Boss?
* * *
When your enemy becomes your boss, tensions are bound to boil over…
