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I realize Isa deserved a better reaction from me. I should have talked to her. I should have thought about how I could help her.
After all, that’s what she does for me every day. She goes to extraordinary lengths to help and support. More than anyone could expect, really.
I should have been as proactive as she has been to me all this time. Maybe this time, I can return the favor. Granted, there’s still something in it for me, but… baby steps, I guess.
I smile at Teresa. “I’m just… looking out for my fiancée,” I reply, making Teresa roll her eyes but still smile back.
“Okay, lover boy, but you have to be ready for what’s coming next. It may be sweet and romantic to some people, but this is all still very shady in the eyes of the immigration office,” she informs me as she stands up and hands me a few pieces of paper for our application.
I stand up, nodding at her gratefully. “I am well aware of the obstacles about to come our way, Teresa,” I reply, swiping the paperwork off my desk. “But what is marriage but two people facing challenges together?”
When I said those words to Teresa, I never really imagined that the first obstacle Isa and I were to face was this: walking into the immigration office with Isa the next day.
“Please take a number and wait for your number to be called,” a clerk says, and we’re facing a horde of people seated at metal chairs waiting for their turn.
Isa sits beside me as I clutch the number in my hand, where the number eighty-seven is printed in a bold font. I look up at the screens and see that we’re only currently at thirty-two, and I stifle a sigh as we slowly walk toward the last two available chairs.
I think my frustration is starting to show on my face as Isa’s mouth slowly tugs up to a smile.
“Is this your first time partaking in the wonderful world of American Bureaucracy?” she asks coyly, and it’s a side of her I never really get to see. Well, no, I see it all the time when she’s with her friends at work.
At the last holiday party, she had been playfully buzzed with Cody and a few other people from the office. But I’m not used to this version of Isa talking tome.Usually she’s no-nonsense and professional with me.
“I bet you never had to wait in line in your life, huh, Mr. Camden?” Isa teases.
“It's true. I’m not used to doing things like this. It’s why I have you, my assistant,” I confess. I don’t mean to be unkind or snarky, but it’s the truth.
Isa simply hums.
“Isn’t it ironic that the Filipino is now more aware of the American system than the American?” I can’t really bring up an answer to that because it’s true.
Isa starts scrolling through her phone and I look around as silence stretches awkwardly between us. A lot of people here are clearly madly in love and just ready to make their commitment official.
It’s a little… unnerving. And the reality of what we’re doing here crashes into me. This is purely selfish and part of me worries I’m just dragging Isa along for my messed up ride with my family. I know she wants to stay here, but does she want to stay here like this?
I value marriage. Really, I do. But I can’t help but wonder if I value it as much as Isa does. I realize that she’s from a completely different background and culture with experiences that I barely know anything about, because I don’t really knowher. A warm feeling slides down into my stomach as I realize I do want to know her.
I open my mouth to ask her a question.
“They’re staring,” Isa whispers before I can form any words. I barely hear her and I wonder if she even meant for me to hear her in the first place. But she’s looking around the room with me at a few of the people who recognize me. It’s likely just a vague recognition. I’m definitely someone in this town, but I’m not the person in front of the camera that gets splashed on the posters.
My bachelor status has landed me in many tabloids before, though.
Bachelor film CEO dating a new actressmakes for a splashy headline sometimes, even if the truth is far more boring.
“Does it bother you? Getting recognized?” she murmurs, eyes still scanning the room.
I guess Isa’s never had a similar experience; being recognized and having people whisper about you. I can’t help but envy the peace that must come along with that kind of anonymity. I hope this situation we’re in doesn’t rip that away from her. But that’s not what’s important right now.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” I whisper in her ear. I’m trying not to draw any extra attention. “They’re always going to stare. I pretend that they’re just focused on what I’m wearing and not thinking about who I am as a person.”
I stare down at my expensive black suit. I realize I might be slightly overdressed for this occasion. I brush away an invisible piece of lint. Isa looks down at her maroon blazer and tight-fitting jeans. I never noticed how deliciously her jeans hug her obviously toned calves, but with one leg crossed over the other, it’s impossible not to appreciate the long lines of her legs covered in denim as they lead to a surprisingly sexy pair of nude pumps.
“Do I even look alright?” she asks, tugging at the hem of her jacket. Words get stuck in my throat as her movement causes the black silky tank she’s wearing to stretch across her breasts and dip just a bit, revealing the slightest hint of cleavage. A few gold necklaces do nothing to move my attention from where they rest against her olive tanned skin.
I clear my throat and shift anxiously in my seat, somewhat uncomfortable by the feelings stirring up inside of me.
“I mean, look at you,” Isa says, gesturing to my suit.
