Make-Believe Marriage

by CA Quigg

  "Sore, but I'll live."

  "Can you remember what happened?"

  He smoothed the edges of the paper and didn't look at me, but I didn't miss the flush creeping over his cheeks. "I don't remember a thing. I've already told you and Tom that."

  "I hope you remember something soon, whoever did this to you can't get away with it." I grabbed a cup and poured some caffeine courage from the carafe in the center of the table. "You love me don't you, Dad?"

  He set down the paper and took his glasses off. "What kind of question is that to ask?" His words bristled, and his eyes sharpened. Mr. Jekyll was on his way.

  "I just wanted to make sure."

  He huffed and picked up the paper again.

  "Someone reported Caden and me to immigration. We were interrogated yesterday. It was hell and lasted for hours. They treated us like criminals."

  He spluttered and blew out a breath. The color in his cheeks went from rosy to beetroot.

  "What kind of monster do you think I am? Do you think I want my only child thrown in prison? Do you think I want to lose the club? There you go acting like your mother again. And what did you do to your hair? I liked it better the other way. Change it."

  "Caden likes it better this way."

  "Caden likes it better that way?" He barked out a gruff laugh. "It doesn't matter what he likes and what he doesn't like. As soon as you give him what he needs, he'll run away like the other one, and everyone else will be left to pick up the pieces."

  Despite my racing pulse and rising anger, I kept calm. I wouldn't get upset, and I wouldn't cry. Not this time.

  "Maybe so. But the situation we're in is something I have to live with, and I'm going to make the best of it."

  For a few seconds, my dad said nothing, but then his laughter bellowed around the kitchen.

  "I don't believe what I'm hearing. You're in love with him. Grow up, Elizabeth. He's not the kind of man to fall in love with someone like you. You'll never be the kind of wife he wants. He's a double crosser. Look how he used my accident to blackmail you into giving him exactly what he wanted. He has a controlling interest in the club. I put my blood sweat and tears into that place, and now I have nothing to show for it."

  "We still have twenty-five percent." I wouldn't stoop to his level but neither would I cower. "You don't know him, not like I do. He's a good man and, yes, I love him. And I'll do anything and everything I can to help him make Sundown Sands Country Club the place it should be."

  He tutted and shook his head. "Show some self-respect. I didn't raise you to wait for the scraps someone is willing to throw you."

  "I'm what you made me." I stood, and strode to the door with my head held high, but before I left, I said, "If I find out you reported us to immigration, so help me God, I'll cut you out of my life, and I'll make sure you have nothing to do with the club ever again."

  Without waiting for his reaction, I left the house. Adrenaline left me elated. Standing up to him felt good, and I felt like I could achieve anything. Everything would be okay. I would weather the gossip, and I would prove them wrong. Caden loved me. A man like him didn't say those words unless he meant them.

  Chapter 32

  Elizabeth

  I poured myself a large glass of white wine at sat at the breakfast bar while Caden made dinner.

  "Do you honestly think he didn't say anything to immigration?" Caden asked.

  "If he'd said anything he would have rubbed it in my face. He always shows his hand. There's a reason he lost our money at the poker table."

  "There's no other explanation. No one else knows." He stirred a pot of simmering balsamic glaze and mushrooms so fast, some of the liquid splashed out and splattered his hand. He lifted it to his mouth to soothe the burn. "Think. Did you tell any of your sisters? Someone somewhere knows something. And I'm still not convinced it wasn't your father. I wouldn't put anything past him."

  I sighed and took a sip of wine. "I know it wasn't him. And I already told you I didn't tell anyone. It's not like I go around singing like a canary at the top of my lungs about our agreement." Anger churned in my stomach. After everything we'd been through, he still thought I'd told someone the secret I would take to my grave. "What about you, did you talk to anyone?"

  "No one." Caden switched off the gas beneath the sauce and threw the spoon into the sink. He turned on the cold water and ran his hand beneath the stream.

  I went to him and reached for his hand. "Let me help you. Some lavender will calm the burn."

  He jerked away. "I can do it."

  I chewed the inside of my lip, and the telltale signs of an oncoming anxiety attack rose up inside. His behavior was out of line. No way would I live with someone I was afraid to upset. Afraid if I said or did the wrong thing, he would walk away. Afraid he would berate me for speaking my mind. If that's how I wanted to live my life, I would have moved in with my dad.

  "Don't treat me like that. I'm not the enemy. I haven't told anyone, and my father hasn't told anyone. He wouldn't do that to me."

  Caden snorted. "The same way he wouldn't ask you to marry a stranger to save his business. Wake up, Elizabeth. Your father is a manipulator and will do what it takes to always have the upper hand when it comes to you."

  He'd called me by my full name. Something he hadn't done since the day we met. I didn't want him to call me Elizabeth. I wanted him to call me Lizzie now and always.

  "Don't bother coming to bed tonight. You can have the sofa. I'm sure it's very comfortable."

  Tears stung my eyes, but I wouldn't show him how much his insinuations hurt me.

  To give both of us some space and before I said some ugly words I could never take back, I walked out of the kitchen.

  Once inside the safety of my bedroom, I took several deep breaths and gathered my oils. A blend of bergamot, lavender, sandalwood, and frankincense should help me sleep and calm the thoughts galloping through my brain. But I wasn't sure they were strong enough to help. Not even an Ambien chased down with vodka would help at this stage.

  A big part of me ached to go to him and apologize, but why should I apologize for a fight that wasn't my fault? I wouldn't appease him. I wasn't the one being unreasonable. I wasn't the one throwing accusations around.

  Stress burned my already taut muscles. I put on my pajamas, and before I climbed into bed, I dotted the oil over my pillows and pulse points. Sleep would make everything better.

  Chapter 33

  Caden

  A persistent ringing rattled my brain, and I reached for my phone to turn off the alarm I didn't remember setting. The ringing didn't stop. In my sleep-deprived state, I finally figured out it wasn't my alarm, it was the doorbell. Who the fuck comes to someone's house at the crack of dawn. I'd gotten next to no sleep and wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone.

  The sofa was at least a foot too small for me, and more than once during the night I'd fallen off and woken up on the floor. Sometime in the wee hours, the fire had died, and a biting chill filled the sitting room and my bones. We'd have to fix the pipes sooner rather than later.

  The doorbell rang again. Dressed in flannel pajamas and wearing her glasses, Lizzie ran downstairs and flung open the door.

  "Can I help you?" she asked in a rush of words. "Is it my dad? Is he okay?"

  "Mrs. Gallagher, I'm Doris Flynn from USCIS. The U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services. Can I come in?"

  "Please, yes. Come in."

  Shit. Crap. Fuck.

  I'd read about dawn visits, but I didn't think we'd have to worry about one, but I also didn't think we'd get interrogated at the airport either. I scrambled to my feet and balled up the blanket and pillow, looking for a place to hide them.

  "This must be Mr. Gallagher," the woman's shrill voice said as she walked into the sitting room. Her inquisitive eyes landed on the pillow and blanket in my hand. "Do you make a habit of
sleeping on the sofa, Mr. Gallagher?"

  Lizzie smiled, but it was tight and forced. "Ms. Flynn, I'll be honest, we had a fight last night, and I asked Caden to sleep on the sofa. He said some insulting things about my dad and I didn't want him in my bed."

  "It's Mrs. Flynn, but call me Doris, and I understand." The tone of the woman's voice said she didn't. "Is there somewhere we can sit and talk?"

  "Come into the kitchen," Lizzie said. "I'll make us coffee."

  With a sniff, Doris followed Elizabeth into the kitchen.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I ran upstairs and threw on a pair of sweats and a baseball cap. Her father was to blame for this. If Lizzie couldn't see that, she was blind.

  I hoped marrying her so fast wasn't a mistake I'd live to regret. The honeymoon period was fast coming to an end, and it looked like it was about to get messy. Thank God neither of us had brought up what I'd said during sex.

  If I loved her, I wasn't feeling it at the moment, and the way her cold eyes looked at me showed she didn't like me never mind love me.

  The shit show we were living had to end soon. The stress was taking its toll on both of us. I'd apologize to her later for the way I spoke to her last night. I was out of line, and I didn't like feeling responsible for the haunted look on her face. By the look of her puffy eyes, she'd gotten as much sleep as I had. Later, I would show her how sorry I was in the best way I knew how, but this time, there would be no declarations of love.

  The scent of percolating coffee welcomed me into the kitchen. Lizzie and Doris sat at the table by the window with several sheets of paper spread out in front of them. As if noticing for the first time I was there, Lizzie looked at me.

  To anyone else, she would have looked calm, but I knew her well enough to notice the tension lines around her eyes and mouth.

  "Doris wants to interview both of us," she said. "She wants to make sure we didn't break the law by marrying so you could get a permanent resident card." If she was nervous, she didn't show it.

  "No problem," I said. "We both know why we married. That's all that matters."

  Doris sighed and gave me a tight smile. "I wish that's all that mattered. Everything about your relationship seems so rushed. And the phone call we received confirms what the paper trail says."

  I poured myself a mug of coffee. I would do what I could to discover who had made that call, and then I would fucking kill them.

  I sat opposite my wife and caught her hand. "Can you tell us who made the call? The thing is, Lizzie's dad has been sticking his nose in, and I accused him. That's what we fought about. Our argument got heated, so Lizzie asked me to sleep on the sofa. It was all my fault."

  I didn't miss the way Lizzie's lips parted or the way her fingers tightened around mine.

  "I can't tell you who called," Doris said.

  Lizzie took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. "I'd appreciate it if you gave me a yes or no answer. My dad hasn't been himself. He was in an accident and isn't happy he no longer has me at his beck and call. I'm afraid he's going to do what he can to split us up. I know we rushed into this marriage and I know a lot of people are wondering why. The truth is until I met Caden I swore I would never marry again. My first husband walked out on me after six months. The humiliation was too much, and I swore I would never allow anyone to do that to me again. When Caden came along, that all changed. He changed something inside of me."

  Doris pursed her lips and nodded a few times as if she were having a conversation with herself. "No, it wasn't your father. That's more than I should say and don't ask me again who it was."

  Lizzie's shoulders sagged, and relief filled her eyes.

  I was a dick. Pure and simple. "I'm sorry, Lizzie. I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I should have believed you when you said it wasn't your dad."

  "It's okay. It hasn't been an easy few days. We were both wrong. I'm sorry for going to bed angry and not talking about it."

  Doris cleared her throat. "I'm sure I don't have to remind either of you how serious a fake marriage is. You, Mr. Gallagher, will be deported and you, Mrs. Gallagher could go to prison. And the prison you'd go to isn't some fun-loving Orange is the New Black holiday camp."

  "We know," Lizzie said, speaking for both of us. "I love my husband. I'll go anywhere he goes even if that means giving up my life here and moving to Ireland."

  Shock at her declaration reverberated through me. I didn't know if she was lying or telling the truth. But the sincere look in her eyes said she was more than serious. If it came down to it, I wouldn't ask her to move to Ireland or leave her family or friends, but if my application was denied, and if she moved, it would look good for when I appealed the decision.

  "That's not going to happen," I said. "I'm sure when Doris is finished interviewing us, she'll see we didn't marry so I could get a green card. She'll see we married for love." My heart pounded.

  I didn't love her.

  I didn't love her

  I didn't...

  I did.

  But, more importantly, I needed to get this business put to bed and fast. There was another deal in the works. An old hotel on the Outer Banks came on the market a few days ago. I wanted to drive there this weekend to meet with the owners, and if all went to plan, I would consider making an offer.

  "It remains to be seen if I think you married for a permanent resident card or not," Doris said, ticking boxes on a form attached to her clipboard. "Let's start upstairs, shall we. Show me your bedroom, bathroom, and closets. I want to make sure everything is where it should be."

  Both Lizzie and I stood.

  "You stay here, Mr. Gallagher." Doris tucked her clipboard beneath her arm. "I'd like to talk to Mrs. Gallagher on my own for a few minutes. When it's your turn, I'll let you know."

  I nodded and kissed Lizzie on the cheek. I couldn't help but see her as a lamb on her way to the slaughter, and I was the one sending her there.

  Chapter 34

  Elizabeth

  I showed Doris the bathroom, which had two sinks. One for me and one for Caden. His side was messy with blue toothpaste splats while mine was pristine. The tub held body wash for him and homemade scrub and cleanser for me.

  Doris picked up my rose infused hand lotion from the vanity, opened it and inhaled the flowery scent.

  "Everything in here smells divine. What brand do you use?"

  "My own." I couldn't help but beam. People appreciating my products always warmed my insides.

  "For real?" Doris looked surprised and continued to pick up the various lotions and potions. "How do you even begin making stuff like this?"

  "I started when I was a teenager. I wasn't as cute as my sisters, and I had the worst acne-pair that with braces and I was a knockout. Everything the doctor prescribed for my skin made it worse. After reading a blog post by Maggie Tisserand about natural cures, I became obsessed and started making my own stuff. After a few weeks of experimenting, my skin cleared up. Making products has been an obsession ever since."

  "You know," Doris said. "My thirteen-year-old is going through a tough time now. She doesn't have severe acne, but she has bad breakouts. Every day she comes home crying saying the kids are teasing her. Middle grade is hard. A lot harder than when I was a kid. She puts on a brave face in school but lets it all out when she comes home. It breaks my heart to see her hurt."