He looked down at her. "It means we are all going to be a family now. We'll all live together, and eat together, and go on trips to the beach like this together - forever."
My heart soared when he said the word forever. I felt like I could finally believe it this time.
"Ok," Lily said, apparently satisfied with this answer. "Does that mean I have a sister now?" She looked hopeful.
I smiled, patting her head. "Yes, it sure does."
She jumped, pumping her fist in the air. "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, let me use your phone so I can call Tiffany and tell her that now I have a sister, too!"
Arthur laughed. "It's a long story," I told him. "She has wanted a sister ever since her best friend at school got one."
"How about we call Tiffany with the good news in a little bit?" He suggested.
"Fine," Lily said. "Can I have a KitKat then?"
Epilogue: Arthur
One month later…
The day that Jessica had been excitedly waiting for had finally arrived. She was almost as excited about this as she was about our own wedding.
We were getting ready to go to her sister’s wedding. She was Heather’s bridesmaid and I was Brad’s groomsman.
I was pleasantly surprised when he asked me to become one of his groomsmen. He and I were still friends but we hadn’t kept in touch for a while after Megan was born. Things had just been too messy for me for far too long to think about socializing with old friends. So, I’d responded with a surprised “really?” when he asked me, then quickly agreed and told him I would be honored, and that was the truth.
Being a gentleman and a true family man, he told me that I was now not only one of his oldest friends in the city, but also his brother-in-law. He said he would be honored to have me by his side at his wedding.
Speaking of weddings, Jessica and I were officially married.
We were man and wife, and I couldn’t wait to see how my wife looked in her purple bridesmaid dress.
She had looked so beautiful that I almost cried in the dress she wore the day we got married, a yellow sundress that billowed in the wind and made her look like an innocent maiden. Although I was willing to spare whatever costs necessary to have the wedding of her dreams, she had insisted that she didn't want anything fancy. In fact, she didn't want a ceremony at all. I was somewhat shocked when she revealed that she'd always wanted to just run away and elope with some dark and handsome man that was crazy about her, and this was her chance to live that fantasy. Besides, she had said, she didn't want to upstage her sister's wedding. That all made sense, and I happily obliged to her wishes. I, too, was somewhat relieved to not have to go through the endless preparations and planning that a big wedding required. We had left the kids with their grandparents for a weekend and took another trip back down to the Florida Keys this time, where we were married at a tropical beach chapel right near Mile Zero. The sun was setting behind us, casting orange, pink, and red hues over the sparkling ocean, and I had never seen a more beautiful sunset, or a more beautiful woman, in all my life. The officiant of our wedding was wearing flip flops and served us margaritas on a little deck that overlooked the water after we had said our vows. When the sun had gone down, we'd walked back to our cottage along the beach, the moonlight lighting our way. Admittedly, I had wanted to throw her down and have my way with my bride right there in the sand, but she had insisted that it was too messy and she really didn't want sand in any hard to reach places. That was one of my favorite things about Jessica - the woman cracked me up sometimes.
I ran my hands over my tux and left my hotel room to go hang out with Brad and Neil. This was absolutely a huge wedding, in typical posh New York fashion, and I was running into several familiar faces in the hallway.
The two people that I was anxious to meet were Jessica’s parents. I still hadn’t met either of them but had spoken on the phone many times. The first time was when I called to get their blessings before proposing to Jessica. They were friendly, but formal, much more formal than my own parents. I could tell that they were very protective of their daughter and granddaughter, especially after her last husband.
The one thing that stuck with me about her mother, Lynette was that she asked a whole lot of questions, and that just terrified me, not because I didn’t have the answers but because I worried that they wouldn't be the precise answers she wanted to hear.
Megan and Lily were hanging out with Jessica in Heather’s room, Lily dressed in her pink flower girl outfit.
The day was going by at a lightning fast pace and it wasn’t long before I found myself standing next to the smiling and nervous groom.
Everyone’s eyes were on the couple but mine were on the bridesmaid who was blushing across from me, batting her eyelashes every chance she got. Jessica looked like a dream in purple. That also happened to be my favorite color and she was carrying it off like it was hers.
After Heather and Brad said their vows and kissed, we clapped in celebration, feeling thankful that the two lovebirds were finally married. Maybe now Jessica would stop talking about some silly curse she believed existed for the Clayton sisters.
They’d also had an unusual love story, though not as insane as ours.
I only hoped that our love together would survive the test like it had for them. The two had been together for a long time before they got married, unlike us.
My heart said that we were going to be just fine.
The cheers filled the huge hall and the Clayton family dominated the main stage.
Jessica walked over to me, wrapping her arms around my neck while still holding on to that bouquet of flowers.
“I love you,” she whispered.
* * *
Drinks flowed freely at the reception. Once the speeches were over, we all stood around the bar. Heather, Brad, Neil, Rachel, Danielle, Zander, Jessica, and myself. The whole crew was together.
Soon, the Clayton parents who had been babysitting their grandkids came to hang out with us.
I stiffened and cleared my throat.
“That nervous, huh?” Brad laughed, swirling his whiskey.
I narrowed my eyes at him when everyone started chuckling.
“You’re lucky it’s your wedding, bro.”
He shook his head, the smile remaining on his face.
“Arthur, at what time do you usually put Megan to bed?” Lynette asked another one of her questions that obviously had only one correct answer.
“As soon as possible,” I shrugged. “Usually around ten.”
“At ten?” She clutched her pearls. “That’s late. Really late.”
“Relax, Mom!” Jessica told her, then laughed. “Stop scaring my husband with your mother hen questions. He’s doing fine. He’s a great dad.”
“And a great husband,” Heather chimed in.
“My husband’s pretty darn great too,” she added, winking at Brad.
“Oh, wait till you girls reach my age,” Lynette shook her head at Michael, who then rolled his eyes. “Just kidding, honey. Just kidding.”
Jessica’s eyes were beaming and I loved seeing her this happy.
“To our great husbands,” she raised her glass. "May the curse be broken forever."
Epilogue: Jessica
Seven months later…
Arthur was able to apply for the update in his status after Heather’s wedding. I helped him put all of the documentation together, which included our marriage certificate. He spent weeks running around, gathering documents from his physicians, speaking to lawyers, and pulling up all sorts of records just to ensure that nothing was out of place and the process would go smoothly.
This was a big deal for him, for me, and our family as a whole. If this application were to get rejected, that would be it. He would have to return to Canada and though Lily and I would follow him there, Megan would have to stay back with Sophie. It was absolutely devastating to think about what we would do if that were to happen.
For me, personally, Megan truly felt like my own daughter. It
’s true when they say that biology has nothing to do with motherhood. Every moment that I would get to spend with that child was a blessing and I couldn’t bear to lose her.
The good news was that Arthur’s attorney had informed him that the most important thing that the interviewers looked for while judging an application was proof the relationship was genuine. He’d admitted to her that it was a hundred percent genuine but had also told her that it didn’t exactly start off that way.
“Do not say this to your interviewer,” she’d warned him.
Of course, we were going to listen. Jeopardizing this in any way was the last thing that we wanted. Lying to the authorities was considered perjury, but we wouldn’t technically be lying if we answered all questions truthfully and to the point. The interviewer wasn’t going to have a reason to question us about whether or not marrying to obtain the visa status was ever a consideration, and we were absolutely counting on that.
We reached the U.S. Department of State early in the morning on the date of his interview, which had taken several months to come through after Arthur first sent in his application. In fact, there had also been a hiccup in between because the authorities found that one document from the physician’s office was missing from the application, so that ending up delaying the process by another month. Nothing moved quickly when it came to dealing with federal governments.
But now we were finally at the front of the line, sitting in our seats and waiting to be called in for our turn. We watched people come and go while holding hands, begging our children to not create a ruckus. We didn’t exactly have to bring Lily and Megan to the interview but the little ones couldn’t hurt the whole thing by looking all cute. Besides, they would help show that our marriage was genuine.
I swallowed, walking closely behind Arthur when his name was called.
“It’ll be fine,” he whispered, before we entered one of the small offices.
The interviewer smiled at us, shook our hands, and we got settled into our seats across from him. He was a young, sweet looking man. Not foreboding at all, but he held the power to make or break our family, which made him seem intimidating.
First, he asked us to state our full names, followed by general questions on the date of our marriage and the place where we had made it official.
Arthur and I answered those questions together and I tried to calm my nerves a bit so I didn’t seem all that jumpy.
“When did you get engaged?”
Arthur told him the date and the place, then I elaborated.
“It was at a beautiful cottage in Miami,” I said. “Vintage. Built in the early 1900s.”
The interviewer looked at me briefly, then lowered his gaze. He wasn’t interested in details that he didn’t ask for, and I had forgotten the lawyer’s suggestion to keep it concise and to the point. I pressed my lips together.
He looked through our photos that were originally a part of Arthur’s application. I saw he had the one we had taken in the gardens on our second date, then the one at Heather’s wedding.
“Where was this?” He asked, pointing at one of them. “My sister’s wedding, seven months ago. Arthur knew my sister before I did.”
“Is that how you guys met?”
“Yes,” I blurted out. “I mean, no. It was complicated.”
“Complicated?”
Arthur chimed in. “We met on a social website. In one of the dating groups, but we didn’t know at the time that we had any people in common.”
“Interesting,” the interviewer nodded. “Then your timeline seems to have moved pretty quickly. You got married within months of knowing each other. That is… not typical.”
I remembered the answer to this question that the lawyer had us memorize, and I waited for a few seconds to say it to ensure that Arthur and I wouldn’t blurt it out at the same time.
I couldn’t let the man think that we had it memorized.
“When you know, you just know right?”
The interviewer nodded again, gave each of us a half-smile.
“Did you have any wedding celebrations?”
“We did,” I swallowed, pointing at one of the photos of our extended families having dinner together. “It wasn’t too big and pretty standard for two people like us who had been married before.”
He didn’t react to that, then went on to ask Arthur some weird questions.
“Are you homicidal?”
“Are you suicidal?”
The list went on, and Arthur replied “no” to all of them. He couldn't do it without pausing for a few seconds before answering the homicidal question, giving me and the interviewer a good laugh. Thankfully, the guy had a sense of humor.
That was when I started to feel more confident about the outcome of the interview.
That also the time that our children remembered that they hadn’t yelled in a long time.
It was Megan who started, then Lily followed soon after, asking for
KitKats and some other chocolate that she was currently obsessed with.
“Okay, okay,” I tapped my foot on the floor while Megan remained on my lap, crying.
Arthur then put Lily on his lap.
“Remember what your mother told you? No more chocolates till you eat your greens at dinner.”
That didn’t sit well with Lily, and tears started to roll down her cheeks.
She pointed at me, while still looking at Arthur.
“Okay,” the interviewer said, getting back our full attention.
He cleared his throat and shut Arthur’s file.
“You guys are approved. Your new green card will be mailed to you within one month…”
I didn’t hear the remainder of what he said, focusing only on the word “approved.”
We were out of his office shortly after Arthur asked him some questions on the next steps.
A part of me had wanted to pull him out sooner, worried that the man might change his mind if our children continued to yell in his office.
“You made it,” I kissed his cheek when we were out of the building.
“I… didn’t,” he shook his head, pulling me in for a kiss.
“We made it.”
Best Friend Hot Roommate
Click HERE to grab Heather and Bradley!
This is why moving in with my hot best friend was the worst idea ever:
I was a cautious single mom. He was the biggest player alive.
I had financial struggles. He played with billions.
He was hot. And I was... well, not.
So what did I do when he suggested that my son and I live with him?
I stared into his irresistible blue eyes and said yes.
The plan was simple.
I would move out as soon as I found an affordable place.
I only had to keep my horndog hands to myself for less than one month.
But him strutting around shirtless was not a part of the plan.
Neither was him eyeing me in my bathrobe.
Don't even get me started on the way he looked after my son (hashtag major turn on).
The plan went down in flames when his strong arms slid around my waist.
What happened next could be summed up in one simple equation.
Drama + Drama = More Drama
* * *
Chapter One: Heather
The woman was making me feel better about being a single mom. It was something that not many people had accomplished since the birth of my son, Max.
I reached out for the box of tissues that I always kept handy for situations like this.
"Thank you." She sniffled as she pulled one out.
I smiled and asked her to take a deep breath. As her therapist, it was my duty to make sure that she didn’t have an anxiety attack in my presence.
"It's just that" —she blew her nose and adjusted on the sofa— “just that he's so controlling, you know? He just always wants to do things his way. Raise our daughter the way he feels is right."
I no
dded, pretending to empathize with her. That was another one of my duties as a therapist. I could never let my clients feel as though they were being judged.
At least the father of your child didn’t run away, I thought.
Images of Max's father, Wayne, infiltrated my brain and I pushed them away immediately.
"Shit," I mumbled, cutting off Mindy's whining when I heard the sound of my son’s cries coming from inside my bedroom. "I'm so sorry."
I stood and set my notepad on the side table.
"I have to get this. It won't be long, I promise."
This was the second time that Max had woken up within the last hour. My son probably got a sense of my boredom and was looking to help me out. That's what I told myself, anyway.
The truth, however, was that I just wasn’t able to get him to nap for extended periods in the afternoons so I could get work done.
"You know, we should just reschedule," Mindy said, reaching for the doorknob. "I get it. Managing things with a newborn isn't the easiest thing to do."
Her anger toward her husband had turned into annoyance toward me.
"Or maybe you should take some time for yourself, Heather. Try to rearrange your schedule a bit."
I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to lunge at her. For one, I was her counselor, not the other way around. Secondly, I didn't have the time to take some time off.
I lived in New York City as a single mother whose finances were so bad that she had to share an apartment with her friend.
The friend who had just shown up, moaning, into the apartment.
Rachel Philips, who dated a new man every week, was back home after what I assumed was a several-hour-long rave. I was holding my son in my arms, breastfeeding and trying to appease him, when I heard disturbing noises coming from the living room. I let out a sigh, assuming that they were bumping into things while impatiently trying to get each other’s clothes off.
Single Dad Fake Fiancé Page 16