Forty Day Fiancé

by Erin McCarthy

  She looked like she had a differing opinion on that. “You might want to look into it to be sure. I hope it’s not the flu.”

  I chewed on that as I went to check on Felicia. She was hovering over the toilet, pale, breathing deeply. “Hey.” I smoothed her hair back off of her face. I wasn’t stupid enough to ask if she was okay, when she clearly was not. “Do you need some water or a cold cloth or something?”

  “A cloth would be fantastic.”

  Fortunately, the brownstone was not occupied. It had been remodeled by an investor, so there was actually a box of disposable hand towels on the vanity. I pulled one out and wetted it under the faucet. I lifted the back of her hair and pressed it against her neck. Then I flipped it over and did the same to her forehead.

  “Should I grab us a cab or do you need to wait a few minutes? I can go see the upstairs with Krisha if you want to just sit.”

  “Just give me a second. I want to see the bedrooms. I really like this place.” She looked up at me. “But does it make sense to invest in real estate if I’m being tossed out of the country?”

  “Even if you have to go to the UK, it won’t be forever. Just a few months. If you really like this place, we should make an offer. This is a great street, it’s super quiet.”

  Felicia wiped her mouth. She tossed the towel in the toilet and flushed. “Help me up.”

  I offered her a hand. Once she was standing, she actually hooked her arm through mine and leaned on me.

  What if she was pregnant? That would be both amazing and terrifying. I hadn’t pictured having a baby this soon. Talk about jumping in with both feet, damn.

  She didn’t comment on it at all or offer any explanation for her sudden nausea, so I kept my mouth shut too even as my heart rate kicked up a notch or twelve.

  The third floor had three bedrooms, a laundry room, and a bathroom clearly designed for children. It had a trough-style sink and a ton of built-in storage. The fourth floor was a massive master suite with a spa bathroom. Krisha chattered away and I picked up the slack for Felicia’s silence, talking finishes and square footage.

  When we got back downstairs Felicia retrieved her purse from the island and hugged it to her stomach. “I think we should skip seeing that last listing today,” she said. “I want to lie down.”

  “Of course, take care of yourself. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” I told Krisha. “Thank you for meeting us today.”

  When we got outside I didn’t have a chance to ask Felicia anything.

  She just put her hat on as we went down the steps and looked at me. “Michael?”

  “Yes?” Why did that sound so fucking ominous?

  “If we don’t get this house, I might actually die.”

  That made me laugh, out of both relief and the dramatics of it. “So you like it?”

  “I fucking love it. I will battle demons from hell if it means I can live in this house. It’s everything.”

  “Maybe I should call Krisha right now.” I stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the house. It was a family home. If Felicia wanted to move here, she must want permanency with me. Then again, she didn’t want a marriage license, so I had no fucking clue what she truly wanted.

  “Maybe we should think about it.” She looked up at the house with me, leaning against my arm.

  I pulled her in to my chest and gave her a little squeeze. “Thinking is overrated. I’ve been doing it my whole life and what did it get me? Sometimes you just have to feel something.”

  “Then I feel like I’m home,” she murmured.

  I kissed the top of her fuzzy hat. “Me too.”

  Pulling my phone out, I told it, “Call Krisha.”

  Sixteen

  The day was pure chaos.

  There were strangers all over our flat setting up tables and chairs and prepping for the catering. There was hustling and bustling and chopping and chatter.

  I wanted to throw up again.

  Savannah came through the front door and hugged me. “Honey, it’s going to be okay.”

  “I don’t know that it is, Savannah. If this test is positive, what the hell am I supposed to do?” Michael was out buying alcohol for the party and his mother was at the salon, thank God. I couldn’t have handled seeing either of them.

  My friend ran her hands up and down my arms. “Then you have a baby. You’ll be a great mom. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. What are the odds you’re actually pregnant? You said you haven’t even been having sex, which is definitely a prerequisite. You probably have an ulcer or something.”

  “I hope so.” Which seemed like a twisted thing to wish for but it would be highly preferable over bringing a baby into the whole visa situation. It wasn’t that I didn’t want a baby, because I really, really did. Eventually. But the timing utterly sucked.

  “I have the test in my purse. Let’s go in your bathroom.” Savannah peeled off her coat and hung it up. She glanced around. “Nice apartment. It looks like everything is almost ready for the party tonight.”

  “Michael’s mother is a force of nature. She did the majority of the work.” I was still hurt my own mother had decided not to attend. It didn’t exactly reassure me that I would be returning to her less than open arms if I had to go back to England.

  “I couldn’t get a sitter, so I’m bringing Sully. We probably won’t stay long. Cocktails parties with a baby are not ideal.”

  “I totally understand.” I shut the bedroom door behind us and locked it. I held my hand out. “Okay, give me this damn thing.”

  She pulled a brown bag out of her purse and handed it to me.

  “Here goes nothing.” I took a deep breath and went into the bathroom.

  The directions were straightforward and after washing my hands I let Savannah into the bathroom. “I’m sure it will be negative. I think this is stress.” Eighty-five percent of me felt that way. The other fifteen percent was convinced I was pregnant. “We used condoms and I don’t remember any slipups.”

  “Then I’m sure it will be negative.” She tucked her red hair behind her ears. “But if it’s positive, focus on the end game. You’ll have a baby and that’s the best thing in the world, trust me, I know. Plus, you have a great guy and you’re going to have an amazing house.”

  “If our offer is accepted. We haven’t heard back from the agent yet.” Making an offer on the brownstone was super impulsive given our complicated-as-fuck lives but I hadn’t been able to resist. It was just perfect.

  I paced back and forth, avoiding the teak vanity. “You look first. I can’t take it.”

  There was a pause, then Savannah said, “Do you want me to tell you the result?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Did I? Yes. I had to know. “Give it to me straight.”

  “You’re pregnant.”

  Somehow in my panicked state I wasn’t sure if there had been a “not” in her sentence. “Wait, what? I’m not pregnant or I’m pregnant?”

  “You are pregnant. The test is positive.”

  Everything inside me went hot. I felt a rush of heat up into my cheeks and I got a little lightheaded. Holy shit. I was going to be a mum. It was utterly terrifying but it was also, well, exciting. A tiny human. Made by me and Michael.

  At least I could guarantee that he wasn’t going to be upset.

  “I guess it’s not an ulcer,” I said in an attempt at a joke.

  “Are you okay?” Savannah asked, worried. She came over and took my hands. “I know this is a shock.”

  I nodded and took a deep breath. “I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m actually, well, happy. About the baby, I mean. But it’s really bad timing.”

  Worst timing ever actually.

  “Babies don’t give a flip about timing.” She gave me a grin. “Oh my God, I’m so happy for you! Sully will have a buddy!”

  “If I’m not tossed out of the US.” Right now though, I couldn’t even think about that. I just wanted to wander around in wo
nderment and awe that I was having a baby.

  “That’s what lawyers are for and Michael will be all over this now that you’re pregnant.”

  “I don’t think I should tell him before the party.” I wasn’t going to tell him until after we had our “are we staying together or not” conversation. I needed to know that he cared about me. Maybe he didn’t love me yet, but I needed to know he had feelings for me that went beyond friendship and appreciation for our great sex life.

  “Good call. That would throw him off his social game. He would want to tell everyone and truthfully, you’re so early in the pregnancy, you should wait a couple months before telling everyone you know.”

  She had a fair point but the thought of miscarrying made me feel fiercely protective of my budding zygote. I ran my hand over my stomach. “I don’t think he could resist announcing it tonight if I told him. Michael is going to be thrilled.”

  He was going to be over the moon.

  Because he wanted a baby really badly.

  A sudden unwelcome and hideously ugly thought popped into my head.

  Would he do anything to have a baby?

  Gloria’s words at lunch came back to me. Check the condoms for holes.

  He wouldn’t. There was no way he would do something so shady.

  No one would do that. Certainly not Michael.

  Or would he?

  I tossed the pregnancy test into the wastebasket and took the empty box and shoved it under the sink under a towel.

  Time to celebrate a fake engagement while hiding a very real pregnancy.

  This could get interesting.

  * * *

  “Congratulations,” my friend Jim said to me, shaking my hand and clapping me on the shoulder.

  “Thanks, man, I’m a lucky guy.”

  “I’ll say. Don’t punch me but your fiancée is hot.”

  “She’s very hot and she would never give you the time I day.” I grinned at Jim.

  “Dick. Though you’re right.” He shrugged. “I have a shitty personality.”

  That made me laugh.

  It was probably the fortieth time I’d had this kind of exchange and you know? It wasn’t getting old. The steady stream of my friends and family coming over to give their good wishes had been awesome. It was short notice, most of these people had never met Felicia, and yet they had turned out to be happy for me.

  Yep. I meant it wholeheartedly when I said I was a lucky guy.

  The room was filled with people, music, and food stations. I hadn’t even known this many people could fit in my apartment, let alone with a Christmas tree and half a dozen high-top tables. I didn’t have eyes on Felicia right then because there were just too many people. The last I’d seen her she was introducing me to her friend Leah and Leah’s fiancé, Grant. They’d both seemed like great people, very friendly, and they seemed genuinely happy for Felicia.

  My sister hadn’t been able to make it from California, but other than that, everyone I truly cared about was in the room.

  “Does Felicia have a sister?” Jim asked as my cousin Brent came up with a drink in his hand.

  “No, she does not.” Not that I was aware of anyway.

  “Are any of her friends single?”

  “Dude, my fiancée is not your personal matchmaker. Have either of you seen Sean?” My brother wasn’t there yet and it was pissing me off.

  “Nope. Good eats, man. Great party.” Brent sipped his drink. “I didn’t think you’d ever get married again, to be honest.”

  “Why? I’ve never had anything against marriage.”

  “You were always a workaholic. I figured you’d just stay single and have lots of sex with random women, living the life we all wish we could have.”

  “Excuse me?” Brent’s wife, Kathryn, appeared behind him.

  He choked on his drink. “Nothing.”

  “You’re an asshole, Brent,” was her response. She rubbed her temples. “Michael, any chance you have something for a headache? It’s been brewing all day and now it’s really gotten bad. I don’t have any aspirin in this damn clutch.” She displayed her tiny purse.

  “Sure. Let me go grab you some.” I handed Brent my empty glass. “I’d have a headache every night if I was married to this prick.”

  “Ha-ha, you’re fucking hilarious.” Brent made a face.

  “For the record,” Kathryn said as I shifted away from them. “You had years before we met to have lots of sex with random women and you didn’t, so what does that tell you?”

  Ouch. That was an unpleasant truth bomb for Brent.

  It was slow progress across the apartment, people greeting and commenting to me as I went. Despite the fact that we had the visa process looming over us, I was really damn happy. I wanted to marry Felicia and none of what I was saying about her was fake. I was telling all my friends and family she was witty, intelligent, and giving. What I wasn’t telling them was that she was intriguing, sexy as fuck, and going to keep me on my toes for the rest of my life.

  This was not a trial run or a wait-and-see for me.

  After everyone left I was going to tell her I’d fallen in love with her.

  I wanted her to stay in New York and wait out the application process.

  In our new home if we got the townhouse. I was still waiting to hear from Krisha.

  Felicia was standing in the kitchen talking to my mother. I was glad they seemed to get along. The day had been crazy intense but Felicia did seem to be feeling better than the day before.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I pulled it out from habit. I wasn’t on call but it was habit to be accessible.

  It was a text from Krisha.

  Your offer was accepted. Congratulations.

  Holy shit, we’d bought a house.

  If you had asked me six weeks ago if I’d be buying an enormous townhouse on the Upper West Side, I would have said you were crazy. But apparently, I was the crazy one because now I was about to own a four-million-dollar piece of Manhattan.

  I guess I’d done crazier things than buy only the second property I looked at. Like, for example, getting engaged to a woman I barely knew. Who had catfished me.

  There was a bizarre beginning to a love story.

  The thought made me grin as I went into the bathroom and rooted around. I didn’t know where anything was anymore. Felicia had moved her stuff in and rearranged all of mine under the guise of making room for her. I thought it had more to do with her stubbornly preferring her system of what went where but I didn’t really care that much. I found a bottle of acetaminophen and twisted the cap. The whole thing tilted sideways and the bottle shot out of my hand, across the countertop, and down onto the floor, spilling pills everywhere.

  “Shit.” I bent down and fished the half-spilled bottle off the floor. Picking up pills on the floor I tossed them in the wastebasket.

  I had already pulled my hand away when I processed the fact that I had seen something odd in the trash. Taking a second look, I confirmed it. A pregnancy test. I pulled it out and studied the results.

  A positive pregnancy test.

  Holy shit.

  Felicia was pregnant. She did not have an ulcer.

  She was having our baby.

  I grinned. Merry Christmas to me.

  I was getting everything I’d ever wanted all in one perfect package.

  When I went back to the party, searching out Kathryn to give her the pills, I felt almost drunk with happiness, even though I’d only had one drink. Having a fiancée, soon a new home, with a baby on the way was the best buzz I’d ever had. I guess the term was punch drunk. That was me. Fucking on top of the world.

  My brother was standing by the front door, arguing with a woman I’d never met. A girlfriend? I went over to greet him. “Where the hell have you been?” I asked him. “You’re like an hour late.”

  “I got stuck in your fucking elevator! Don’t you ever look at your phone?”

  “It’s my engagement party. I’m not staring at my phone.�
�� But I pulled it out and frowned. I had received the text from Krisha, but nothing from Sean. “I don’t even have a text from you.”

  “That’s because I told you texting from elevators is dicey,” the woman said, giving Sean an icy stare. “Like it would have killed you just to push the help button?”

  This date clearly wasn’t going well. I held my hand out to her. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

  She took my hand. “Isla. Nice to meet you. I’ve heard great things about you from Felicia. Your brother, on the other hand, is an asshole.”

  “I can verify that,” I said.

  “Shut up,” Sean said to me. He shot a look at Isla. “Well, nice meeting you. And yes, I mean that sarcastically. I’m going to get a drink.” He clapped my shoulder. “Congratulations, you crazy son of a bitch. I wish you a lifetime of happiness and hope you never find yourself tied to your bed with your balls glued to your thighs.”

  He handed his coat to the attendant we’d hired to store coats in Felicia’s half-empty closet and beelined for the booze.

  “What the hell was that about?” I asked Isla, who I now realized was not Sean’s date, but Felicia’s friend.

  “We had the misfortune of stepping onto the elevator at the same time.” She rolled her eyes. “We were stuck for exactly eight minutes. Eight minutes of my life I’ll never get back. And what is he talking about? Ball glueing? What the hell?”

  “He thinks Felicia is probably a psychopath who will torture and stalk me for the rest of my life if things don’t work out. This is based on nothing other than the fact that she was messaging me as Savannah initially.”

  “Ah. He does seem like the suspicious type, though I am too, so I can’t find fault with that or his concerns. But I’m not a drama queen. That was a dramatic statement.”

  That made me laugh. “He is a drama queen.” I reached out to take her coat. “Can I get you a drink?” I held up my closed fist. “I need to make an aspirin delivery to a friend with a headache but after that I can grab you whatever you want.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be fine. I see Felicia.”

  I nodded. “Thanks for coming.”