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The next order of business was an immigration lawyer.
I went two towns over for that. Mainly because we had one law practice in Jupiter, and they were all regulars at the bakery—everyonewas regulars at the bakery because it was the tits—and therefore, people I would see every day.
Not that I didn’t trust them to stay true to the whole lawyer confidentiality thing, I just didn’t want the added hassle of continuing to shit where I ate. And because I loved the town and almost everyone in it—save for Nora’s ex’s mother, a right cunt—I didn’t want to engage anyone else in this little federal crime.
The offices in Portsmith were nice, clean, modern, and devoid of any warmth or personality. Exactly what I needed. I didn’t want anything to make this process feel fun or romantic in any kind of way.
Kip was here because he had to be. It would’ve been weird if I came alone. I was already resenting having to rely on him.
The first five minutes with the lawyer ensured that I would not mistake this for a romantic process.
Our lawyer was Indian, maybe a little older than me, handsome, and sharply dressed in a suit with a Burberry tie. He talked fast and was no bullshit.
I’d spouted the whole ‘we’re in love and couldn’t bear the thought of being apart’ spiel, with Kip by my side nodding and rubbing the back of my neck. The asshole.
Our lawyer had listened for about two point five seconds before he interrupted me.
“Okay, so we’re gonna get you married,” he said. “You’ve been together for how long?”
I looked to Kip, panicked.
Shit. We hadn’t really debriefed on our pretend relationship. That was something important, since we were going to face a lot of questions, not just from the government but from our friends and every single person in town.
“Ten months,” I replied at the same time Kip said, “Seven months.”
I glared at him.
He smiled easily, picking up my hand and lifting it to his lips. “We calculate our relationship differently,” he told the lawyer. “She goes by our first official date.” He nodded to me. “I go by… something else.” He all but waggled his fucking eyebrows to make his intention clear.
The lawyer looked between the two of us with a blank expression but a twitch to his lip.
Did he know? Suspect? Would he report us to the government? Lawyers couldn’t do that. I’d already paid a fee. That’s what happened onSuits—you gave them some money and they couldn’t narc on you.
But he could be anhonestlawyer.
Shit.
I waited for him to call us on our bullshit.
“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together.
I yanked my hand from Kip’s when the lawyer looked down at his notes.
“There are a whole lot of forms we’ll need to fill out. My paralegal will go through them with you. In addition, we’ll need photos, mementos from your time together,” he said, looking back up at us. “As well as your joint bank statements, bills, whatever you have together. Rental agreements.”
I struggled to keep my expression calm. He’d just listed a whole lot of shit we didn’t have. Could we fake almost a year’s worth of couple photos? And even if we could, we didn’t have any of the other shit regular couples who were madly in love with each other did. Our closest friends believed we hated each other—I still hadn’t quite figured out how I was going to convince Nora, Tina, and Tiffany that I had not only been hiding the fact that I was dating Kip but was planning on marrying him.
“Um, yeah, I’ll contact my landlord and get Kip on my lease,” I said, clutching the arm of my chair. “We, um, haven’t really gotten around to a lot of that other stuff.” I pasted on a smile. “It’s been a whirlwind. Is that going to be a problem?”
Half of me wanted him to tell me yes, it was a huge fucking problem, and we shouldn’t bother getting this visa because it would just get rejected anyway. That would give me a whole new set of problems, but I didn’t know how I was going to make it through this entire process. My boobs were already sweating.
“No,” he said smoothly. “It’s not a big problem. I’d like you to get as much together as you can now—like I said, health insurance, bank accounts, whatever you can.” He waved his hand with nonchalance.
My mouth was bone dry.
Bank accounts. Health insurance.
