Forty Day Fiancé

by Erin McCarthy

  Felicia climbed onto the rock. In heels. Damn. She perched on it in a way that was fierce and sexy. She was wearing a sweater and jeans but still, the three-inch boots should have made her pose impossible. Everything about it was so fucking hot that I decided I could join her. I walked over and found a foot hold in the rock and climbed up beside her.

  She gave me a very naughty and pleased look.

  I cupped her cheek and kissed her.

  She kissed me back, passionately.

  The rock was cold and uncomfortable, but I pulled back and stared into her blue eyes. My hand slipped down over her hip. I could never get close enough to her. “You are the sexiest woman I’ve ever met.”

  She gave me a smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere. In January.”

  “Is it January yet?”

  “No. But it’s only fifteen days away.”

  “I’m going to make you scream my name, sweetheart. And I can’t wait.”

  Her lips parted on a small gasp.

  “I think I’ve got some good stuff,” Agatha called. “Though this may be the first engagement shoot where I feel like I could get pregnant from watching. Phew. Hot stuff.”

  That broke the mood. Felicia laughed.

  I helped her down off the rock and took her hand and kissed it. “Maybe we can find somewhere between me being super awkward and us eye fucking each other. Otherwise we’re going to have some explaining to do to friends and family.”

  “I’m certainly up for that. We can find an in-between, I believe in us.”

  “As soon as we’re done here I want a bourbon. A big one.”

  “I want a big one too but we can’t always get what we want.” She bit her bottom lip and raised her eyebrows up and down.

  That made me groan. She was just evil. Amazing. Intelligent. Sexy as hell.

  And I would do anything to make sure she stayed in New York as my fiancée.

  Fourteen

  Having spent the better part of a year at home working behind a camera or behind my computer screen I was worried my social skills would be rusty. But I found I was actually really enjoying interacting with Michael’s colleagues and of course, the children who were the special guests for the orthopedic department’s Christmas party fundraiser.

  Michael had told me that he had debated pediatric orthopedics back in med school but hadn’t felt like he could stay emotionally removed enough. He’d felt much more comfortable working with adults.

  But watching him interact with the kids proved that he might not be the right surgeon for a child, but he was an awesome advocate and friend. He was full of high fives, dad jokes, and hugs. After being introduced to a flurry of people I had hung back while he greeted the kids and their parents. He’d told me most had suffered some sort of traumatic bone injury due to a car crash or things of that nature. A few had been born with genetic malformations and watching their joy at this event had me tearing up.

  It was a fundraiser, but it was also a Christmas carnival, complete with an indoor Ferris wheel and Santa’s workshop at the North Pole. I was surprised Michael hadn’t campaigned to be Santa Claus himself but he said the hospital hired an actual actor every year. When he’d first told me one of his demands was that I attend his work holiday party with him, I’d been picturing a traditional cocktail party with little black dresses, an open bar, and awkward small talk with people juggling tapas plates in their hands.

  This was a thousand times better than that. I felt like I’d fallen into holiday happiness. The music was cheerful, the decoration larger-than-life, with a toy theme, and I was sipping a non-alcoholic egg nog. Given it was only two in the afternoon, I had been happy to have the virgin alternative. I also had to admit I had stationed myself so I could readily cruise past all the food options, of which there were many. I was starving and I had no idea why but everything I put in my mouth tasted fabulous, so I just kept grazing.

  “These mini crème brulees are amazing, aren’t they?”

  I turned and saw Kim, who Michael had introduced as his surgical assistant. I smiled at her. “It’s shocking how much I’ve eaten. I should be mortified but I can’t bring myself to care.”

  “It’s still a week until Christmas,” she said. “By New Year’s I’m going to need new clothes.” She didn’t look like she cared one iota either though as she loaded a plate up with pastries.

  “Do you have any fun New Year’s Eve plans?” I asked, to try to be conversational. Michael spoke about Kim in a way it was clear he valued her as a co-worker and as a person.

  She nodded, giving me a smile. “This year my girlfriends and I are going to Miami Beach. I can’t wait to get out of here for a week.”

  “That does sound fun. I’ve never been to Miami Beach. I have been to Ibiza though, which is a very sexy place.” I picked up another plate. Why the hell not?

  “Do you and Dr. K have plans?”

  Nothing I could say out loud. Given what Michael had said during our engagement photo shoot his plan was to keep me in bed all day giving me orgasms. I certainly wasn’t going to object to that.

  Assuming that we both agreed to stay together and ride out the visa process.

  God, I’d be gutted if he didn’t want to do that.

  I shook my head. “We haven’t discussed it yet. We’ve been focused on our engagement party. In four days. Yikes.” The end of the year and the end of my visa were coming up fast. I tried to ignore the anxiety that thought brought up.

  “Congratulations, by the way. I’ll be there at the party, but I’m sure you know that.”

  “I appreciate you coming. I realize everyone is jam-packed with events this time of year.” I was wearing extremely tight black jeans and wishing I could undo the top button on them because they were digging into my flesh. It was either overindulging or a tightening from anxiety about the possibility of Michael changing his mind. I debated if my sweater would camouflage it if I did let it free. I popped a sweet potato puff wrapped in bacon into my mouth.

  “Dr. K is a really nice guy, you know,” she said.

  I paused mid-chew and nodded. “I realize that.”

  “No. I mean he’s one of the best. I hope you appreciate that.”

  Ah, so a little warning. I liked that Michael inspired loyalty in his friends.

  I looked over at where Michael was lifting a little boy up into the air and whirling him around.

  Everything inside of me swelled up at the sight of him. Kim was right. He was a really nice guy. One of the best.

  “I do appreciate it,” I said, and I could hear the softness and affection in my own voice. “I appreciate him.”

  Kim must have heard it too because she gave me a smile. “Glad to hear it. By the way, don’t get the wrong impression. I don’t have a crush on him or anything. We’re just friends.”

  I laughed. “That never crossed my mind, but I’d forgive you if you did. I’ve been desperately trying to find flaws in him and failing miserably.”

  “He’s stubborn, if that helps,” Kim said, with a grin.

  “Oh, trust me, I do know that.” Yet, he wasn’t unwilling to compromise.

  He was the total package and I had utterly betrayed myself and all of my intentions by going and falling completely and totally in love with him.

  Massive idiot, that was me.

  As usual.

  What the hell would I do if none of this worked out? If we didn’t work out?

  Suddenly, without warning, I felt tears in my eyes.

  Oh, fuck, how awkward was that?

  Michael was coming over to us, carrying a toddler in his arms, presumably the child’s mother walking beside him.

  I dabbed my eyes with my napkin desperately, but Kim had already seen the tears. She shot me a look of alarm.

  Michael’s eyes widened and his smile fell off his face. “Are you okay, Felicia?”

  I nodded, sniffing. “Just too much hot sauce,” I lied. “I’m fine.”

  Obviously, Kim would know I was lying si
nce I hadn’t eaten anything with hot sauce, but I couldn’t worry about it.

  The introductions were a blur but I put on a smile and was polite. It turned out the mother was a colleague of Michael’s, a fellow surgeon. I looked at her toddler, a little girl who had deep brown eyes. She wasn’t smiling. She was staring at me with such intensity, I could have sworn she was on to me. It was like she knew Michael and I were lying to everyone and the government and playing a very dangerous game.

  That made me mentally shake my head. She was a toddler. She was probably just staring at my red lipstick or my necklace and I was fucking losing it.

  So maybe the kid didn’t know anything but when I turned, looking for somewhere I could get a glass of water, I saw Kim watching me.

  It was not a nice look. It was a hate-filled expression of pure rage.

  She had lied about not having a crush. Our gazes met and she rapidly looked away.

  I didn’t even care. Let her crush on him all she wanted. If the man had even once ounce of interest in her he’d have made a move in the years they’d worked together.

  The only concern it gave me was if she chose to be a bitch and tell INS we were stretching the truth about the length or depth of our relationship. If she did, then she was just a miserable cow.

  I felt nauseous and I wanted a glass of water. “I’m sorry,” I said, rudely interrupting the conversation going on around me. “I desperately need some water, so excuse me a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  Michael was handing the toddler back to her mother and looking concerned. “I can go get some for you.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.” I couldn’t stand there and guarantee I wasn’t going to tear up again, which was absurd. “I’ll be right back.”

  I turned and blindly set my plate down on a high-top table.

  “She was really pale,” the woman said, whose name I honestly couldn’t remember even though I’d been told it five minutes earlier. “She’s either coming down with something or she’s pregnant. I recognize that expression of trying not to lose your lunch.”

  “Maybe she’s hungover,” Kim offered.

  I didn’t even pause to debate why the hell Kim would suggest something like that as I rushed off, terrified by Dr. Whoever’s statement.

  Pregnant?

  No. I couldn’t be.

  That would be so not cool.

  Forgetting all about water, I fast walked in the direction of the restrooms.

  I made it to the ladies’ room, but not to a stall. I spotted a trash can right at the entrance, twisted my hair back, and tossed all the heavy appetizers into it.

  God. I retched until there was nothing left in my stomach.

  I stood up, vision blurred from watering eyes. I wiped them with the back of my hand and reached for the towel dispenser with shaking hands. I blotted my eyes and my forehead and went to wash my hands.

  Michael’s doctor co-worker was right. I looked pale and sallow.

  It had to be stress and anxiety.

  Anything else was too much to think about.

  * * *

  The stress was starting to get to Felicia. That was obvious. She was pale and not eating well. After my co-worker Shelia had suggested maybe she was pregnant, I had debated that, but dismissed it. We had only had two nights together, and we’d been very cautious. Those nights hadn’t even been that long ago. It seemed a few weeks too early for real morning sickness.

  She wasn’t sleeping well and I thought that was contributing to why she looked so pale and drawn. And the reason she wasn’t sleeping well was clearly our current situation.

  Quizzing each other on facts about ourselves so we could pass an immigration interview wasn’t exactly relaxing. Plus, my mother had been blowing up her phone about the damn engagement party and Felicia’s own mother had decided not to fly to New York for it, which had greatly upset her.

  We were drinking coffee the day before the engagement party. We had a full day ahead of us. An appointment with the lawyer, and then we were going to look at three apartments for sale. After that, most likely I would lose her to the final details of the party, which had truthfully become something I was dreading. The whole thing had been a lot of work for her. As Felicia shifted papers around in front of her on the coffee table, her hair the very definition of bedhead, I regretted we hadn’t skipped the party.

  “The tables and chairs will be delivered tomorrow at noon,” she said, reaching for her mug. She wasn’t looking where she was reaching, and she bumped it, spilling coffee over the rim. “Bloody hell.”

  “Sweetheart, what do you need me to do?” I asked, using the sleeve of my ribbed shirt to mop up her coffee. It wasn’t that much and she was on the edge. “I feel bad this has all fallen on you.”

  She blotted her papers with her napkin. “It’s my mess. Literally. I’m the one without the proper visa. So it should fall on me.”

  “I meant more the party, but still, you don’t need to be dealing with any of it alone. That’s what I’m here for. We’re partners.” I meant that. I loved Felicia. With all of my heart. It might be crazy to fall for someone that soon after knowing them, but we’d been in a crash course on compatibility and she was it for me. The one.

  Not that I’d told her. I was waiting for the moment when we had to make the decision on whether she was staying in New York, with me, or letting her visa expire and returning to England. That had been her plan all along. No sex. Follow the rules. Then we would each make a decision how we felt at the end of the forty days.

  I knew my decision and I knew how I felt.

  I wanted her. Forever.

  She looked less certain about the whole thing. I still needed to plead my case.

  Felicia finally sighed and looked up. “I know and I appreciate you for offering. You’re really a sweetheart. I’m just run a bit ragged and my mum not coming to the party is upsetting me. She’s being stubborn about letting me pay for a plane ticket.”

  “I guess that’s where you get your stubbornness, then.”

  She laughed lightly. “I guess so.” She tugged the sides of her satin robe tighter around her. “I swear to God, Michael, I’ve gained weight. Even this bloody robe feels tight.”

  Again, I thought that was anxiety manifesting itself physically. “You don’t look one ounce heavier. I think you’re just stressed and not sleeping well and everything feels off. You were up half the night tossing and turning last night.”

  She made a face. “Did I wake you?”

  “No. My sexual frustration is keeping me up at night, but since I was awake too, yes, I noticed.” I was only half-kidding about that. It was hell to lie in bed next to her, feel her bodily warmth, press my lips to hers, and have to stop. It was a crime against my manhood.

  “Subtle.” She picked up her coffee mug and sipped. “This is cold and I swear our creamer has gone off.” She made a face and set it down. “I can’t drink that.”

  This was going to be an awesome day. Not. But I was determined to keep calm and be supportive for Felicia. My coffee tasted fine to me, but I said, “Why don’t you go get ready and I’ll go around the corner and get some coffee?”

  She nodded. “I think a hot shower would help.”

  Even more reason for me to be out of the apartment. I didn’t need the temptation of her naked and wet in the shower.

  “Perfect. Then we can head to the lawyer’s office.”

  An hour later we were midtown sitting in front of the lawyer again. He was going over our prenuptial agreement in extreme detail, making sure everything was listed correctly in the documents he’d had printed up.

  “If everything looks okay to you, then I just need your signature here,” he said, pointing to the spot where a sticky note had been place with an arrow. “And everywhere you see an arrow.”

  “It looks fine to me.” It was a basic document allowing us both to exit the marriage with what we’d entered with, including my car and apartment. I signed everywhere that was required, wondering wh
y we couldn’t have done this electronically, but figuring we could use the opportunity to check on her application process.

  “Do you have any questions, Felicia?” the lawyer asked. “Technically I work for Michael, but I can answer anything you’d like clarification on.”

  That was a very lawyerly thing to say. I wondered if it would piss Felicia off, but she’d told me she had a headache, even after she’d had a latte. She looked like she was wishing she had a soft bed to sleep in for about a week.

  “It all sounds aboveboard to me,” she said. “Where do I sign?”

  Once that was out of the way, I asked, “Any news on Felicia’s visa application?”

  He shook his head. “No. But I wouldn’t expect anything this soon. What we need to discuss is your options at this point. You’re down to two weeks before the expiration. The smartest and most appropriate course of action is for Felicia to return to the UK temporarily prior to the expiration while waiting for approval on the fiancée visa. It shows that she respects the laws of the immigration process. The downside though, is once she’s out of the US they might not let her back in.”

  I’d known, theoretically, that they wouldn’t process our visa request before the expiration but I hadn’t been thinking she would have to return to England anyway. “That sounds risky.”

  “All your options are risky. If she stays, it might be held against her, and then her visa denied. Your other option is to get married, skip the fiancée visa, and apply for a spousal visa. You can plead ignorance, that it was always your intention to get married at Christmas, and you didn’t really think it would be an issue. Usually they don’t hold it too much against you if you get married as long as you can prove your relationship is legitimate. The other option would be to go to the UK together, get married there, and wait for the spousal visa to be approved. Or get married here and go to the UK to wait.”