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“Disappointed,” I answer honestly, but not for the reasons he might think. “But that’s how all mothers feel, I’m sure. My older sisters had to move away when they got married, so I’m sure this is nothing new.”
Archie looks at Pyotr. “And how many siblings does your wife have, Mr. Antonov.”
“Three, as well. Oksana is the eldest, and she lives in Colombia. Nikita is the second eldest, she lives in France. And then there’s Yasemin, who lives in Moscow still.”
“My, you two have very large families.”
I smile. “That we do. And we’re starting one of our own.”
“Well, congratulations.”
I rub my belly instinctively, practically bursting with maternal pride. “Thank you very much. We’re very excited.”
“How far along are you, if I may ask?”
“A little over four months,” Pyotr says. “But we’d like to keep it under wraps. We’re not ready for the public to know quite yet.”
Archie nods understandingly. “I totally get it, though… I have to bring it up because it’s my job, but… those pictures circulating a little while ago. The ones with you and another man in your penthouse—”
“That was an invasion of privacy,” Pyotr snaps. “And taken out of context.”
I place my hand on his lap, calming him. “Please forgive my husband. He’s very protective of me.” I take a deep breath. “The truth of the matter is the man I was seen with in those photos was my bodyguard. He was delivering flowers sent to me from Pyotr. Unfortunately, someone decided to cross a line and spread a false narrative to harm our relationship and Pyotr’s reputation.”
Archie’s brow furrows. “How terrible. I guess it’s true what they say, you can never believe what you read online.”
The tension in my shoulders melt. I feel like the hard part is over. I knew that question would likely come up, so it’s a good thing Pyotr and I came prepared. The remainder of Archie’s questions are a breeze.
“How many children do you plan on having?”
“Six,” I answer.
“Or more,” Pyotr adds.
“Who does most of the cooking?”
“I do,” I answer. “But when I’m feeling lazy, we just order in.”
“Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”
“I sleep on the left,” I say. “That way he can hear me.”
“Mr. Antonov, does your wife have any allergies?”
“Cat hair.”
“And do you know her blood type?”
“O negative.”
The next hour is a breeze. There are no more curveballs, just straightforward questions about our daily routines, our habits, our home. By the end of it, I’m feeling as confident as ever. The entire time, Pyotr holds my hand, brushing the pad of his thumb lovingly over my knuckles. His soothing touch is the only thing that keeps me from flying out of my seat when Archie announces we’re finally finished.
“Thank you for your time,” he says. “You know, I see a lot of couples in the run of the day, but I can tell you without a doubt the two of you seem like a perfect pair.”
“Thank you so much.” I smile wide. “Uh, what happens now?”
“I’m going to send your forms off for processing. You should receive a follow-up letter and your green card in the coming weeks.”
I have to hold back my squeal of excitement. We did it!
