Forty Day Fiancé

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Forty Day Fiancé Page 14

by Erin McCarthy


  I went into the refrigerator for the salads, realizing this was a good time for a confession of my own. It was embarrassing though and made me feel shameful even though I really hadn’t done anything wrong. I stood up with the plastic containers in my hands. “I dated a man who was married and I had no clue he had a wife. I was gutted when I found out. Not only was I hurt and felt cheap and used, I felt absolutely awful for his wife.”

  It still made my stomach tighten when I gave it any real thought.

  “Wow, that’s a dirtbag move. What an asshole,” Michael said. “What, like he couldn’t find a woman who was willing to be his mistress? He had to lie about it?”

  “It made me feel very disgusted, and frankly, disgusting. That’s why I haven’t dated. It was hard to trust anyone.” It was hard to trust Michael, but I was trying. He didn’t give me much reason not to trust him. He was very honest, as far as I could tell, and never hesitated to share when I asked him about his past. But then again, my ex had seemed honest as well. That was why our visa deadline scared me. I needed more time.

  Anyone could pull off a con in six months or less. That’s what ID TV and real life had taught me.

  Michael pulled me into his arms. “I’m sorry he made you feel that way. What a selfish prick.”

  I let him hug me, because he smelled great and he had strong arms. Arms that made you feel protected. Cherished.

  “We have a lot in common,” Michael said. “More than you’d think at first glance.”

  “Well, we’re both great in bed,” I said, to lighten the mood.

  He laughed. “Not what I had in mind. But very true.” Michael pulled back and looked at me with naked lust. “Want to prove it?”

  He had no idea how much I did. My insides ached for him.

  But I’d said we had to abstain the whole time and I had to stick to it because what precedent would it set if he thought he could change my mind on anything?

  “I’ll pencil you in for January.”

  He groaned. “Fine. I’m going to skip the salad and hit the gym. I need to work out my sexual frustration.”

  “That’s a very healthy approach, sweetheart, I applaud you, though you shouldn’t skip meals.” I gave him a sweet smile.

  “You’re really a witch, aren’t you? It’s the only explanation for why I agreed to celibacy.”

  That made me laugh. “I wish. I’d cast a spell on the person processing my application.”

  Michael went to the front closet and pulled out his running shoes. “It’s worth a shot. We really need a yes from them.”

  I watched him, sitting down in the leather chair to put on his shoes. He sounded so casual, so matter-of-fact.

  That he and I were a “we.”

  Given what that did to my heart, I had a strong suspicion that I’d already fallen halfway in love with Michael.

  No amount of sage would dissipate that.

  Thirteen

  I rang my mother while I was steaming clothes in preparation for a photo shoot.

  “Hello, Felicia,” she said.

  “Hi, Mum, how are you?”

  “Dreading Christmas with the cousins. Uncle Burton is such a lech.”

  “He is very quick with a perverted joke. Listen, what are you doing next weekend? Can you hop on a flight and come to New York?”

  She laughed. “Not since your father left me practically destitute.”

  Destitute was an exaggeration but I ignored that. “My treat. I’m having a party and I’d like you here for it.” I eyed a Chanel jacket for any pesky wrinkles remaining.

  “What kind of party? You haven’t joined a cult or something, have you?”

  Where did she come up with these ideas? “No, of course not. Why on earth would I join a cult? I could never shave my head.”

  “It wouldn’t be a good look on you,” she said. “You had an egg head as a baby.”

  That made me laugh. “You keep me humble, Mum. It’ not a cult initiation. It’s an engagement party. Michael asked me to marry him and I said yes.”

  I had never once mentioned Michael to my mother. But she barely paid attention to me on the best of days. Lately she’d been having a lot of bad days that she blamed on Hugh Grant. She said his aging made her feel appallingly old. Poor Hugh, it wasn’t like the man had an agenda. Or could prevent the march of time.

  She would never, ever admit she didn’t know who Michael was.

  “What? Well, congratulations, darling! How exciting. When did this happen? How did Michael pop the question?”

  I bent over to trim a stray thread off the hem. “He took me to our favorite Italian restaurant and asked me first where I would like to live, if money were no object. I said the Upper West Side in a brownstone and he said then we’ll start shopping.”

  My mother made a sound of approval. I knew she’d like that angle of the story.

  “Then he pulled out a cushion cut Tiffany diamond and asked me to marry him.”

  “Well done, Michael.”

  That made me grin. “I thought so. I know it’s a bit of a rush but I just have my heart set on a holiday engagement party.” That had never once been something I’d craved, but we needed some explanation for the rush job that didn’t cause people to conclude pregnancy or deportation.

  “Will Michael’s…”

  I heard the pause while she fished for the right word that wouldn’t reveal she had no idea who Michael was. I almost felt rotten for doing that to her, but my mother was notorious for humiliating me under the guise of concern on a fairly regular basis. We absolutely loved each other but that didn’t mean we didn’t have a touch of dysfunction. Or as she liked to call it, “fun with each other.”

  “Will Michael’s parents be there?” I filled in, to help her out. I’m not totally heartless. “Yes, and his brother. I’m not sure if his sister can make it from California. But I need you here. Please.” I did need her. I wanted to be able to hug my mother and have her somehow through the force of her cold British stare give me the strength to not fall in love with Michael.

  Because so far, I was failing miserably. He was very easy to fall for. He was stubborn, confident, and used to getting his own way. But he was also generous, kind, and relatively easygoing. Not much seemed to irk him or put him in a bad mood and he laughed easily and frequently. None of my quirks even seemed to bother him.

  It could be he was just on his best behavior, but I didn’t think so. It all seemed very effortless, very true to who he really was as a man.

  “I can’t let you pay for my ticket. I’ll sort it out, darling. Shoot me the details and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thanks, Mummy. You’re the best.” I made kissing noises, which I knew she would hate.

  “Gotta run, darling. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  I tapped my screen to end the call after I said goodbye and eyed Becca’s Chanel. I’d sold six pieces already but I would be happy when I’d seen the last of this lot.

  My phone buzzed. It was a text from Michael with a link.

  Something like this?

  It was a real estate listing. The townhouse was beautiful. The perfect blend of original features with modern finishes. The first floor was an office and a family space that opened to the garden. I envisioned working there every day and felt warm.

  “Ow, shit!” I realized I was actually burning myself with the steamer. My finger was red and angry.

  Hopefully that wasn’t a sign.

  Somewhere Becca was laughing her cheating ass off.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe how much has changed in the last few months!” Savannah said, fully loaded after one martini.

  We were out in Brooklyn again, and Savannah had just finished weaning baby Sully off nursing. Her first sip of alcohol in something like fifteen months had gone straight to her head. She was gushing, leaning all over everyone, and saying repeatedly how much she loved her son, her boyfriend, Maddox, and us.

  It was amusing, but I was already anticipati
ng walking her home. I didn’t trust her to get home safely on her own. I wasn’t drinking because I had my engagement photo shoot the next night and I wasn’t going to risk under-eye circles.

  “I can’t argue with that,” Leah said. “I just had an engagement party a few weeks ago and I’m living with Grant, the man at the diner who hated on pancakes for six months. Who would have ever thought that would happen?”

  “Not me,” Dakota said, even though it was a rhetorical question. Dakota was wearing yet another outfit that fully demonstrated she embraced her height.

  We’d had a break in the bad weather and so she was wearing heels that had to land her at six foot three. I had always admired her confidence.

  “And of course, me,” Savannah said. “Living with Mad, raising my son together.” She gave a happy sigh. Then suddenly, like she’d just remembered, she pointed her finger at me, causing her drink to slosh over the rim. “And you! What the heck, Felicia? You were all, ‘I don’t date. And now you’re engaged. You’re fucking engaged. It’s crazy.”

  She sounded almost outraged in her drunkenness, which made me laugh. “It’s straight-up bonkers.”

  “That it is,” Isla said under her breath, shaking her head and clearing her throat.

  I was going to snark back at her, but Savannah reached across the table and smacked my hand.

  “Why aren’t you drinking?” Savannah demanded. “Get a drink, Felicia baby.”

  Felicia baby? She really was loaded. “I have my engagement photo shoot tomorrow. I can’t be puffy and hungover.”

  “Ooh la la,” Savannah said, rocking back and forth and doing some sort of jazz hands.

  Dakota laughed. “What the hell is that?”

  “What?” Savannah drained the last of her martini. “That was delish.”

  “Drink some water now,” I told her. “You don’t have your drinking legs anymore.”

  She threw her leg up in the air. “Yes, I do. Look at my leg.”

  We all laughed. Leah laughed so hard she choked.

  “We’re going to need to text Maddox and warn him what’s coming home to him later,” Isla said.

  “His horny woman,” Savannah said. “That’s what’s coming home to him. And finally, he can touch my boobs. This is going to be a good night.”

  More like a sloppy one but I didn’t want to burst her bubble. I turned to Leah. “Have you set a wedding date yet?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m not worried about it. We have a vacation planned for Christmas. Fiji. How sexy is that?”

  “Very,” I agreed. “Is everyone here going to be able to make it to my engagement party? I will be crushed if you can’t but I know it’s super short notice.”

  “We’ll be there,” Savannah said. “I wouldn’t miss it for anything. I need to find a sitter though.”

  “If you can’t find a sitter, bring Sully. You know I love him.” I did. The kid was a round-cheeked angel.

  “Thanks, maybe I’ll do that.”

  “Grant and I will be there too,” Leah said. “I told him last night when we got your text.”

  “Of course I’ll be there,” Dakota said. “I am dying to meet Michael and I am also dying to see you with him. You’re so reserved with dudes, I can’t wait to see you all blushing and in love.”

  “Does she look like she’s blushing?” Isla said. “I’m not buying this ‘wildly in love’ story, just saying.”

  “If you don’t show up to this party, I will hunt you down and hurt you,” I told her. “Plus, I’d never forgive you.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll be there. But only if you agree to drag out the engagement. You don’t need to get married right now.”

  “You’re blackmailing me for your presence? That’s charming. You don’t need to play the big sister role. I promise you I’m proceeding with caution. I adore Michael, but he does have flaws, and I have a bad track record.”

  The restaurant wasn’t crowded at all and I was grateful I didn’t have to shout. But it seemed to have slow service, which might explain a lack of diners. My water glass had been empty for five minutes and I couldn’t seem to spot a server anywhere near us. Thinking about my past relationships made my throat dry.

  “What are his flaws?” Dakota sounded gleeful. She sipped her cocktail and leaned forward to hear better.

  She caught me off guard. “You want a list?”

  “Yes,” Isla said.

  I frowned at our eternal cynic. “I didn’t ask you, Isla.

  “Michael doesn’t have horrible flaws.” He didn’t. “It’s mostly irritating things like leaving his beard hairs in the sink and his sterile taste in decorating. The fact that he punches his pillow repeatedly at night before he falls asleep. Wouldn’t the first punch put it into the position you want?”

  “I don’t know,” Savannah said. “Sometimes you really need to work it.”

  “Those are just pet peeves,” Dakota said, waving her arm frantically to get the server’s attention. “This service sucks. I’m going to order two drinks at once.”

  “Ooh, good idea,” Savannah said.

  I shook my head at her. “No. Not a good idea, Mommy. You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow when you’re hungover with a crying baby.”

  Her nose wrinkled, like she knew I was right and didn’t want to accept it.

  “What are the real flaws?” Isla asked. “The potential deal breakers?”

  The fact that sometimes it felt like he withheld information. Like about his marriage and researching surrogates. But I wasn’t sure if that was a character trait or just due to the speed of our relationship. There hadn’t been time to just dump everything ever from our past onto each other. For that reason, I absolutely refused to reveal any niggle of doubt to my friends. If Isla weren’t there, I might, but I wasn’t even one hundred percent sure on that.

  Time would tell. If it revealed Michael regularly lied by omission, I would tell my friends.

  And not marry him.

  Even though the thought of leaving him was getting harder and harder.

  “He spends too much time focusing on me during sex,” I said, dead pan. “I’m getting tired of all the orgasms.” Which was true when we’d been having sex.

  Isla shook her head.

  Leah and Savannah laughed. Dakota looked puzzled for a second, then said, “Oh, ha ha, I get it.”

  “I thought you weren’t having sex with him,” Savannah said. “Which I think is such a shame.”

  “I’m not. Not since we moved in together.” Though every night I questioned the logic in it. “I want to know how I feel about him, not his cock.”

  Though there no was denying I had quite the crush on both.

  * * *

  “Darling, can you stop doing that with your mouth?” Felicia asked me.

  “What, smiling?” I looked away from the photographer at my incredibly beautiful but picky-as-fuck fiancée. She’d been nonstop complaining since we’d started the stupid session twenty minutes earlier.

  “That’s not smiling. You’re grimacing.”

  “I am not.”

  “Yes, you are. Why do you look so stiff?”

  I raised my eyebrows in amusement. I was about to make a comment about my blue balls when she clapped her hand over my mouth.

  “Don’t say it.”

  “What?” I said, through her fingers. I pretended to bite one.

  She pulled her hand back. “Beast.”

  “We’re losing light,” the photographer said. “Can we try that again?”

  I actually wanted to walk into the nearest bar and order a bourbon. It was fucking freezing outside, again, but Felicia had insisted we do pictures in the park. I wasn’t sure why it mattered but I wasn’t going to argue with her.

  “Of course,” Felicia said. She squeezed my cheeks, trying to rearrange my mouth. “Can you just loosen up a little?”

  “Baby, this is my face. I cannot change the way I look. It is what it is.” Was my smile forced? Maybe. Beca
use I felt stupid posing like I was twenty-five. The whole thing felt forced.

  “Let’s try something different,” the photographer said, coming closer to us. The woman probably wanted the same glass of bourbon I did. “Just take a walk together, talk, do what you normally do when you’re in the park. I’m going to follow you and see if I can get something more natural.”

  For a second I thought Felicia was going to protest but then I gave her my forced smile to demonstrate how much she thought I sucked at it and she relented. “It’s worth a go. These clearly aren’t working.”

  I took her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles. “Thank you. I’m a surgeon, not a model. That’s your arena.” That actually gave me an idea. “Hey, Agatha, would you mind taking a few shots of just Felicia? I think a few minutes watching her would really help me.”

  Felicia gave me a dirty look. “Why would there be pictures of just me for an engagement shoot? I’m not marrying myself.”

  “Just indulge me.” I wanted to see her do her thing. Or her former thing, anyway. “You can pose so the ring is visible.”

  “Whatever you want to do is fine with me,” Agatha said.

  She sounded bored. She was also like twelve. She reeked of youthful arrogance. I wondered if I had been like that in my twenties. Probably.

  “Fine. Point out where you want me to stand, Agatha,” Felicia said.

  They had a few minutes’ discussion, heads huddled. Then Felicia moved in front of a large rock and pushed her hair back and tilted her head toward the wind so her hair would move behind her. She took one hand and gripped the opposite wrist as she slightly turned her body. Her lips parted and she gave a sultry mysterious stare. It stunned me how easy it was for her. I’d seen some of her runway shots and of course, for her clothing sales, but seeing her outside, just shifting and turning easily, naturally, it made me aware of how absolutely gorgeous she was and in tune with her own body.

  She raised her hand and pulled her hair, pulling it over her chin, in a move to display the ring but that was also super sensual.

  I realized there was so damn much I still didn’t know about Felicia. We were at the beginning, and while we were rushing it with the engagement, I didn’t want to rush it any further than that. We could get married when the fiancée visa was going to expire but maybe I didn’t need to push her to have a baby right away. Maybe it would be smart to just spend some time together, as a couple. Who cared if I was a year older when a family happened? I wanted the pleasure of learning everything I could about my fiancée.

 

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