The lawyer stared at her. “I see.”
That didn’t sound good. “How do we start the application process?”
“We can start the process today but be prepared for it to be denied. Felicia has been granted more visas than we generally see and applying for another may raise some red flags.”
I looked at Felicia.
She gave me an innocent look that didn’t look innocent at all.
“Are you working right now?” he asked her.
Felicia cleared her throat. “I sell vintage clothing online. But my business is incorporated in the UK.”
“I see,” he said again. “Are you both willing to proceed even with the possibility it will be denied?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
“Are you aware, Dr. Kincaid, that you are accepting financial responsibility for Felicia for a period of ten years, whether you remain married or not, as long as she stays in the United States?”
I did not know that, but it didn’t matter. As if I were going to let her be homeless if we didn’t work out. Not that she would be. Felicia had a certain hustle to her. She was a successful businesswoman all on her own. “I have no issue signing off on that. And please, call me Michael.”
“So what are my chances of success here?” Felicia asked.
“I can’t really say. But trust me, there is no guarantee.”
Felicia gave me a worried look.
“It’s okay,” I told her, squeezing her knee. “It will work out.”
“Either that or it’s my last New Year’s Eve in New York.”
That sounded ominous. “Think positive.”
We filled out all the paperwork and I paid the lawyer a ridiculous amount of money, then we left together.
When we got downstairs, Felicia said, “Are you sure you want to do this? I have this feeling I’m not going to get approved.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But it’s not a guarantee.” She pulled her coat close together over her chest. “This could be a massive waste of time. I thought the odds were better. I don’t want to hold you to this, Michael.”
I stared at her, not sure if she was feeling guilty or hopeless or both. “Are you looking for an out? Is this not what you want?”
“What I want is irrelevant. I’m the massive idiot who got myself into this.” She held out her hand and stared down at the engagement ring I’d given her. “I just don’t want to waste your time,” she repeated.
“Spending time with you would never be a waste,” I said, and I meant that. “Now let’s walk, it’s freezing out here.”
I put my hand on the small of her back and guided her down the sidewalk. I bent over to murmur in her ear, “You don’t get it, do you? I fell for you before I even met you in person. I’ll fight to keep you here. I’ll fight to keep you with me.”
She glanced up at me, her blue eyes displaying vulnerability.
I couldn’t even begin to say that I knew what Felicia was thinking. Now, or half the time. She was an enigma, but I enjoyed every minute with her. I didn’t want her to leave New York.
I didn’t want her to leave me.
“Then you’re just as massive an idiot as I am,” she said.
That made me laugh. “I guess so.”
* * *
“Don’t be angry,” I said out loud to Becca’s ghost. “I know a woman’s closet is sacred, but I have to keep some clothes here at Michael’s flat.”
The closet bothered me and I didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like I felt a presence of someone. Of Becca. Because I didn’t. It was actually just a hushed room that had the feel of a space that hasn’t been used in years. It had needed a massive dusting when the movers had taken Becca’s clothes out, so now I was finally unpacking while Michael was at the hospital.
I didn’t have Becca’s volume of clothing and shoes.
My wardrobe looked sparse compared to the space that existed.
“You had great taste,” I assured Becca. “Though we do have slightly different tastes. Sort of like relationships, you know. I wonder if I’m quite different from you. I expect that I am.”
Something about talking to her made me feel less intimidated. I wasn’t sure if I was intimidated by the memory of Becca or intimidated by the weight of expectation I felt from Michael. He’d been too nice at the lawyer’s. He should have been angry and the fact that he hadn’t been made me nervous.
“Michael is a man who gets what he wants, isn’t he?” I asked, as I pulled open a drawer and started unpacking my necklaces, bracelets, and watches. “Did you have a whirlwind romance? It makes me wonder. I have a hard time picturing him being patient if he’d decided he wanted to be with you.”
This was the nicest closet I’d had since we’d left the Knightsbridge townhome when I was sixteen. “Michael did say we’ll move if my visa gets approved, so I won’t be here long, squatting in your closet. Unless you don’t mind, in which case give me a sign.”
My phone rang, making me jump. “Shit, that scared me.” It was Isla.
I thought about not answering it, because I was afraid she was going to tell me Michael was a murderer, but then I realized it would really be wise to know if he was.
“Hello?”
“Hey, what are you doing?”
“Unpacking. Becca’s closet feels like hallowed ground I’m treading on.”
“Does Michael make you feel that way?”
“No, it’s all in my head. But I feel like I’m taking over her life. Sort of like the Daphne du Maurier novel Rebecca.” I gasped. “Oh my God, Rebecca. Becca. The first wife. That makes me the second Mrs. DeWinters. The second Mrs. Kincaid. The one with the very short courtship.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Isla asked. “I read it in high school and it was all moody and gothic. Your life isn’t gothic.”
I caught sight of myself in the mirror. “Tragic is more like it if you saw my hair and outfit right now. No wonder I feel intimidated by a dead woman’s closet. I’m a fright.” My hair was up, I had no makeup on, and I was wearing leggings and an enormous sweatshirt.
“I have to tell you that I did not find any evidence that Michael killed Becca. She had a rare form of breast cancer that women in their twenties and thirties get. I found her obituary and a fundraiser honoring her.”
“You sound disappointed.” I stopped eyeing myself in the mirror. “I never doubted she actually had cancer. And I can’t exactly say ‘glad to hear it,’ Isla. That would be horrid.”
“I was just making sure. He also doesn’t have a criminal background and I did find his med school class photo and it’s him, so no false identity.”
“Have you thought about becoming a private investigator? You seem to enjoy this sort of thing.”
“I’m not going to lie. I actually did enjoy it. I’m doing this with every guy we all date moving forward.”
“You do that.” I laid out a pair of chandelier earrings in one of the drawers.
“Rebecca and Michael got married three months after their engagement. Keep that in mind. He might want to rush you to the altar.”
I wasn’t sure how I felt about what she’d said. I wanted to feel like Michael wanted me, not just any warm body for a wife. Maybe he was just decisive. “Duly noted. Though there won’t be any chance for him to marry me if I don’t get approved for the visa.”
My phone beeped. I pulled it back and saw it was Gloria, Michael’s mom. “Isla, I’ve got to run. Michael’s mother is on the other line.”
“Sure. Remember we have drinks on Friday.”
“I’ll be there.” I shifted my phone and answered the call. “Hello, Gloria, how nice to hear from you.”
“Hi, Felicia, how are you?”
“Great thanks. And you?”
“I’m fine. Just wondering if you’re free for lunch tomorrow. We can go over the details for the party.”
My work schedule was really taking a back seat but it wasn’t like I had a choice. There
would be a hell of an interruption to my career if I had to go back to the UK. “Of course. Just tell me when and where. I’ll be in Washington Heights in the morning.”
“Do you mind coming down here? I’ll text you a restaurant.”
“Not at all.” There really wasn’t any reason for me to inconvenience Gloria. I would just come back to Michael’s, then, after lunch.
“Thank you, dear, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
We ended the call and I turned to pull my favorite Versace dress out of the wardrobe box I had yet to unpack. “Becca, did you get on with Gloria? This second-wife thing is dicey.”
“Felicia?”
I started. Michael had come home without me realizing. Fortunately, he was still in the living room. It might be a little unnerving for a man to hear his nearly total stranger fiancée chatting up his dead first wife.
“I’m in the closet,” I called out.
He appeared in the doorway, still wearing a suit from being at work. It was sexy as hell. He was sexy as hell. He peeled his jacket off. “Hey. I didn’t realize you weren’t done unpacking.”
“Almost finished.” I tried to be casual but I was dying to ask him more about his marriage. “Being in here makes me think of Becca… how did the two of you meet?” I wasn’t looking at him, but was hanging up dresses.
For a second he didn’t respond. Then he just said, “We met through friends at a party.”
“How long did you date before you got engaged?” That was me, being super casual. Not.
“A couple of months, I don’t remember exactly.”
Michael shifted in behind me, startling me. His hands ran down the length of my arms. He kissed the side of my neck. “Why are you asking me about Becca? Are you feeling jealous?”
“What? Of course not. I’m just curious.” More worried than jealous. What if Isla was right and Michael was just a man who snagged a woman, regardless of who she was?
Though that didn’t really make sense given he’d been single for a decade.
I continued to fuss with the sleeve of a dress and didn’t turn around.
“Becca was a wonderful woman in a lot of ways. But she was also frivolous and demanding.”
I closed my eyes and didn’t respond, feeling emotionally overwhelmed and I wasn’t sure why. Too many changes in a short period of time, that’s what it had to be.
“Our marriage was actually on the rocks when she got sick. I felt guilty about that, you know. It’s probably part of why I didn’t date for the first few years.”
That made me open my eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that. You shouldn’t feel guilty. Neither of you could have predicted she’d get sick.” I turned around. “Do you need a hug?”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “I need a lot of things. But I’ll definitely take a hug.”
I wrapped my arms around him and rested my head on his chest. I gave him a squeeze. I liked the way he felt, strong and muscular. I pulled back and gave him a stern look. “See, that is exactly why I told you we have to be totally honest about our flaws. We don’t have that much time to get to know each other and you need to be really sure you want to move forward with this engagement.”
“I am being totally honest with you. I’m a sexually demanding man who hates mornings.”
That made me laugh. “Who leaves beard hair in the sink after shaving.”
“Exactly. But I can just be a real dick if that would make you feel better.”
I rolled my eyes and dropped my arms. “Absolutely. I’d love that. Now let me get changed so we can take more pictures. Immigration is looking to see that we have a history together.”
“We don’t have a history together.”
“That’s why we’re going to change outfits and take selfies in various places.”
Michael tossed his jacket on the ottoman in the center of the closet. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not joking. Didn’t you read the list? I’m making a scrapbook. I’m dating it back to late September so we’ll have to do some shots outside with just T-shirts.”
He opened his mouth like he was going to tell me I was bonkers, but then he just shook his head and closed it again. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
“Get out, then, so I can change.”
“I’m fine. You can change now.” He stood there and gave me a grin.
“No, I don’t trust you!” I shoved him. “Out.”
I was very tempted to say to hell with my rules and let him take me against the wall.
Given the smirk on his face he knew it.
I pushed him again. He groaned but he left.
I locked the closet door behind him. Just in case.
Twelve
Even though I was freezing my ass off in a T-shirt when it was twenty-five degrees to make it look like we were posing in September, I wasn’t angry about it. Felicia’s determination and tunnel vision were a force to reckon with and I wasn’t going to slow her down. If she was willing to do all this, she had to be willing to marry me, right?
That was my working theory and I was running with it.
Because I wanted Felicia to be my wife and I would do whatever it took to convince her.
“Try not to look like you’re shivering,” she said as we posed with street hot dogs.
I was pretty sure our breath was going to be captured as a vapor cloud when we took the picture but I just smiled and went along with it. Everyone around us was bundled up in coats, there were Christmas lights everywhere, and it was dark outside. I wasn’t sure how any of this was going to look like September, but maybe she intended to crop it in really close.
“I’m not eating this hot dog,” I told her. “You’ve already had us posing with ice cream, coffee, and sushi. I had one too many California rolls.”
“I’m not eating it either.” After she took about six photos, she turned and handed the hot dog to a man who was sitting in a doorway, cardboard laid out over top of him, clearly down on his luck.
For a second he looked at her suspiciously, like she might be trying to poison him, but she smiled and said, “Happy Christmas.”
“Thanks, you too.” He took a bite and his face lit up. “That’s a good dog.”
“Here.” I gave her my hot dog. “Give this to someone else. You’re less intimidating than if I approach someone.” I didn’t want to make anyone feel uncomfortable and having a guy lean down into your space could be perceived as threatening. Besides, Felicia had a warm smile that people responded to. She was compassionate and that was something I appreciated.
She smiled at a woman who appeared to be pacing back and forth for warmth. This lady gave her a hug after Felicia handed her the hot dog, and Felicia returned the embrace without hesitation. It made my heart feel like a fist was wrapped around it.
Felicia was a complicated and layered woman and I was eager to see all her sides. There was a lot she hadn’t yet told me about herself. She didn’t talk about her past relationships and I wondered why. Hell, maybe it was as simple as just because I’d never really asked her.
But right now, I was just going to enjoy her quirky juxtaposition of fake photographer paired with compassionate human.
“I just had an idea!” she said as she came back over to me. “We need a picture of you carrying me on your back.”
“What? Why?”
The woman she’d given the hot dog to had followed her.
“This is Linda,” Felicia said. “She’s going to take the picture for us.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Linda.”
The woman nodded and chewed.
I didn’t really want to pose for a picture with Felicia on my back because that seemed a little over the top. But I also wanted to eventually have sex with her again, so I was willing to toe the line.
“Can I put my sweatshirt back on at least? Parts of my body are freezing that I don’t want frozen.”
Linda cackled. Felicia did not. At least Linda got my sense of hu
mor. Felicia was choosing to ignore my innuendo.
“Yes, you can put your sweatshirt back on. Hurry, though, we haven’t got all night.”
That made me roll my eyes. Now she had a time frame on our fake photos? “Sure, babe. Whatever you say.”
I pulled my sweatshirt on and turned so Felicia could jump onto my back. Her jump was poorly timed and she just collided with my back. Then she couldn’t seem to get enough height to get up. I was bent over and she was just grappling at me and getting nowhere.
“What is going on back there?” I asked, amused.
“Stupid skinny jeans. I can’t get my legs apart.”
“I can get your legs apart.”
Linda laughed again. Linda was okay in my book.
“Don’t be gross. Just bend down lower.”
I was practically in a full squat but I obediently went lower. I was going to point out later what a good fucking sport I was. Felicia launched herself onto my back. Thank God she weighed next to nothing. I reached back and grabbed a hold of her thighs and hitched her higher up into place. Then I stood back up.
The last time I’d had a woman on my back was probably med school. I felt absolutely ridiculous. I also felt like I would do anything for Felicia. She was clinging to me and making little sounds of both distress and amusement. I liked the feel of her draped across my back, her hair falling over my shoulder.
Digging in my pocket, I got out my phone and handed it to Linda. She took a couple of pictures and returned it to me, without any annoying instructions on how to pose. Linda was going to get a tip from me because she was all right and being a good sport. “Thanks, Linda. Have a nice night.” I slipped her a twenty.
She kissed the twenty and gave us a wave. “I’m gonna try.”
I bounced Felicia up and down a little. “Are you getting down?”
“I’m debating. It’s kind of nice up here. Warmer and I don’t have to walk.”
“I’m not carrying you around the Village.” I had my limits. I let go of her legs.
She squawked and slid down off of me. “Spoilsport.”
Even as I dropped her back down onto the sidewalk I realized something. Felicia made me laugh. She made me willing to do silly things. She made me step aside from my career for hours at a time and I couldn’t even remember the last time that had been the case. My work was my life.
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