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Her voice had gotten a lot more passionate as she went on, and she was mighty close to yelling. Or crying. Yes, my best friend loved me. And she was mighty protective over me. And still obviously nursing somewhat of a grudge against Kip.
“I’m already married to him,” I reminded her. “And I definitely don’t think I’m going to be in a position to marry a man for a Green Card again… hopefully.”
Not that we were in the clear after our interview and being told it went well by our lawyer. They had hardly asked any questions, actually. Then again, I’d walked in with a baby bump and a husband who couldn’t keep his hands off me.
But we were still waiting on the official approval. And after that, to stay in the country indefinitely, there was a whole process. But I told myself I’d figure that out… later. No matter how Kip was acting right now, there was no guarantee it would stay that way forever.
“You won’t,” Nora said firmly. “This will help.” She tapped the paper again. “Owning part of a business in the US is a strong tie. And it’s a step in securing a future for yourself. And for her.” She nodded at my stomach.
“I can’t do that to you,” I said, my voice trembling. “I won’t take this from you.”
“You’re not taking anything from me,” she replied. “You are giving me the greatest gift. Knowing my best friend will live and work with me for the rest of our lives and that our children will grow up together. That we’ll make our own family.”
She was hitting below the belt on that one. Bringing the kids into it. Bringing family into it. Her, Tina, Tiffany, Calliope—fuck, even Rowan now—they were the only family I had. Not to mention Deidre, who called me once a week at the least, texted me daily, and was constantly sending things for the baby.
And Kip.
Fucking Kip.
My husband.
“Sign the contract, Fiona,” Nora requested gently, holding out a pen to me.
I looked at my best friend, the pen, the contract.
I’d been so intent on being independent. On fixing my life myself. Saving myself. Because I didn’t want a man to fucking save me. Especially not Kip.
But I hadn’t considered that it might not be a man who would save me.
I hadn’t considered it might be my best friend.
What else could a girl do?
I signed the contract.
* * *
“Can I ask you a question?” I said as Kip rubbed my feet.
It was a nightly routine. Our movie or TV show of the night, me eating ice cream, Kip rubbing my feet.
It was utterly middle-aged and domestic of me, but I fucking loved it. My feet needed it, as did my ankles. The fucking things were swelling like nothing else. Boo was resting on the swell of my stomach, what turned out to be her favorite spot.
She’d settled into our life seamlessly and was a beloved member of the family. I’d seen Kip’s apprehension when I brought her home, that had gone unspoken because he didn’t like to rile me, or he did like to rile me but couldn’t know whether I would get riled or cry. He hated it when I cried.
I also wondered if Kip had something against cats because they weren’t a pet benefiting his alpha male status. He probably wanted a Lab like Rowan’s dog. I thought that was the kind of pet I’d want too. The only reason I’d never gotten a pet was because I knew my time in the country was limited, and I couldn’t have anything permanent.
Technically I couldn’t be sure of my permanence in this country right now. But I’d been at the pet store with Nora getting food for her dog, saw Boo, and lost all reason. She just had to come home with us. End of story.
Kip reached over for the remote so he could pause the TV and give me his full attention. “You can ask me anything,” he said in his normal agreeable and warm tone.
Although he was warm and agreeable most of the time, that didn’t mean we didn’t fight. We did. Almost daily. Mostly with him being over-the-top protective or telling me what to do and me telling him he couldn’t tell me what to do.
Almost all of those fights ended in sex. And I won most of them.
I took one last spoonful of ice cream, then put the empty carton on the table beside the sofa before I returned my attention to Kip.
It was probably a bad idea to broach the subject I’d been ruminating on for a while now. It was probably a better idea to keep things light between us, not rock the boat, not try to dive too deep. Diving deep meant I’d likely hit a nerve, make things too serious, and one or both of us would retreat. Or fight for real, not just for foreplay.
