Forty Day Fiancé

by Erin McCarthy

  She shot me a look that made me wonder if she knew Felicia was pregnant. No. Felicia wouldn’t tell all her friends before she told me, would she? It seemed like I should be the first to know.

  I delivered the pills to Kathryn, who took them eagerly, and went to find my fiancée. I was bursting with the knowledge of her pregnancy. I needed to pull her into our bedroom and tell her I knew. Which made me wonder why she hadn’t told me? Maybe she wasn’t happy about it. Or maybe it was just the timing with the party. I was pretty certain that test hadn’t been in the wastebasket the day before.

  Felicia was standing with a group of her friends. She didn’t look unhappy. She still looked pale but she was smiling and laughing.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” I said, “but I have some news.”

  Felicia started and her cheeks turned pink. “What’s that?”

  “We got the townhouse. They accepted our offer.”

  “What? They didn’t even counter?”

  “No, they just accepted it. It was a fair offer.” I took her hand and lifted it to my mouth. “Merry Christmas, Felicia. We have a new house.”

  “Oh my God,” she breathed. “That beautiful home is ours?”

  I nodded. “All ours. We’re going to need to buy some furniture. It’s four thousand square feet.”

  “Woo hoo!” Savannah clapped her hands and moved her hands like she was raising the roof. “Congratulations, you guys!”

  “Thanks, Savannah.” It was amusing to me now that I had ever put her face to Felicia’s words. Savannah in person was nothing like Felicia.

  A guy who looked like he was in his mid-twenties and covered in tattoos, approached with a baby, who was crying hot angry tears. “We’re going to have to go, babe,” he said. “He’s losing it.”

  This was the guy Savannah had been in love with when she went to dinner with me? He had to be damn near twenty years younger than me. Jesus. I owed him and his tats a huge thank you. If he hadn’t been on the fringes, things might have turned out differently and I was really fucking happy with the way they had turned out.

  I held out my hand. “Thanks for coming, we appreciate it. I’m Michael, by the way. You must be Maddox. It’s great to meet you.”

  Maddox shook my hand. “Nice to meet you too. Congrats. Felicia’s an awesome person.”

  I touched the baby’s arm. He gave me a sketched-out look. “Hey, it’s okay, buddy. You’re going home.”

  He was stretching out his arms for Savannah, but she was dodging him. “This is horrible. I can’t take him. He wants to nurse and I cut him off a week ago. If I take him, he’ll face plant into my chest and cry until he passes out.”

  Maddox was turning so that Sully couldn’t see his mother, cuddling and bouncing him. The baby had reached full-on screaming now, his face red, a line of snot running out of his nose onto his lip. “You can’t give in, babe, or we’ll just be teaching him he gets what he wants if he kicks up enough of a fuss. He’s not even hungry, he just ate.”

  “I know, it’s just my heart hurts.” Savannah turned quickly away from the sight of her crying son. “I’ll go get our coats.”

  Maddox looked at me and shrugged. He ran a reassuring hand over the baby’s head and swayed with him. “He’s a boob man. Can you blame him?”

  That made me laugh. “No, not at all.”

  Once Maddox had left I turned my attention back to Felicia. She was repeatedly taking deep breaths like she might get sick. “What’s wrong?”

  “Babies are a lot of work, aren’t they? Oh God…”

  For a second I thought she was going to faint. I grabbed her shoulders hard to keep her from going down, but she rallied. There was fifty people milling in my apartment all around us but I couldn’t stop myself from demanding, “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  Her eyes widened but she just nodded. “Can we please go in the bedroom? It’s really hot in here.”

  “Of course.” I led her down the hall, my arm wrapped around her shoulders as she leaned on me.

  I heard Brent say, “Dude, sneaking off to the bedroom? Wait until everyone leaves, geez.”

  My cousin was an idiot. But it probably didn’t look that great from the perspective of everyone in the living room. I flipped Brent off over my shoulder. He laughed.

  “Everyone thinks we’re off to shag, don’t they?” Felicia asked with a weak smile as she sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Yep. Joke’s on them. We never shag.”

  She laughed. “The irony is tremendous. We don’t shag and yet, I’m pregnant. But we did shag before. Quite well and more than once. ”

  I pushed her hair off her forehead. She was clammy. “Do you want to lie down?”

  She started to, then grabbed my arm and hauled herself back up. “No, that was worse. That made me really dizzy. Is this what being pregnant is like? Everyone always looks so damn perky posing with their bumps. I feel like complete and utter ass.”

  “It’s my understanding it’s different for everyone. Even sometimes from pregnancy to pregnancy.”

  She eyed me. “You don’t seem surprised by this news.”

  “I am very surprised. I know you haven’t been feeling well, but I didn’t think you could actually be pregnant. But I came in here half an hour ago to get aspirin for my cousin’s wife and found the pregnancy test. I think I’m still in shock.” I stood in front of her, my hands in the pockets of my suit pants.

  “Me too.” She took more small breaths and rubbed her stomach. “It’s like my innards are crawling up my throat.”

  “Do you want me to help you out of your dress?”

  “That’s what got us into this in the first place,” she said, dryly. “Besides, I can’t exactly mingle with our guests in my joggers and an enormous sweatshirt.”

  “You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to. I’ll tell everyone you’re sick.” It wasn’t ideal but I didn’t want her fainting at our engagement party.

  “No, it’s fine. I can manage another hour. I think seeing Sully screaming just freaked me out on top of the nausea.”

  “Stick by me. I’ll get you out if you need to throw up or something.”

  She nodded and reached for my hand. “Help me up, please. By the way, your brother made quite the impression on Isla. She spent ten minutes ranting about how horrid he is.”

  “I think the feeling was mutual.” I hauled her off the bed.

  “They are both a couple of charmers.” Felicia blew out a breath and reached up with a shaky hand to smooth her hair back. “I guess we can talk about the elephant in the room later?”

  “The baby?” I asked. “Yes, but in case you need reassurance, I’m very happy. I know the timing is terrible, but I’m excited to start a family with you.”

  She nodded but didn’t respond.

  I wanted to tell her that I loved her but when I tried to make eye contact she glanced away.

  Yep. Bad fucking timing all the way around.

  A bad feeling kicked me in the gut.

  But I ignored it and went back to our party.

  Seventeen

  By the end of the night, I was exhausted. Like the kind of fatigue where walking across the room feels like it might kill you. I wasn’t sure if it was being pregnant or the party or the stress of impending deportment, but I felt like total ass. Any one of those alone would have been enough to droop my sails, but the trio together was like being hit by a truck.

  Without bothering to put them away (which would normally drive me bonkers) I kicked off my Louboutins and reached behind me to unzip my dress. I couldn’t reach the damn zipper. “Michael!” I yelled, in a burst of frustration.

  He appeared in the doorway of my closet in a towel, as if he’d been about to step into the shower. “What’s wrong?” he asked, looking at me like he wasn’t sure if he should grab me or call 911.

  “Nothing. I can’t get this dress off.” I dropped my hands. “I’m going to scream if I can’t be in bed in the next three minutes
.”

  He walked into the closet and unzipped the dress. He held my hand while I stepped out of it. “Should I hang it up?” he asked.

  “I don’t give a shit, honestly.” Initially I’d been happy about the baby, about the townhouse, but as the night wore on I had to admit I’d been expecting some kind of speech or declaration of his love from Michael.

  We had a week before my visa expired and I’d got it in my head that this would be the night we discussed if this was going to stick or not. I’d thought he would either say something publicly or we could have a conversation about it without him knowing about the baby. I didn’t want him to be with me solely because of a pregnancy. But the devious bastard had somehow spotted the test. Not that I’d hid it particularly well in my panicked state, but still.

  He was going to push to marry me now, I knew that. Yet I still had no clue how he actually felt about me. Plus, there was a little concern that kept popping up in my head.

  “How do you think I got pregnant?” I asked as I pulled open a drawer and pulled out an oversized T-shirt. I wanted to sleep in cotton.

  He gave me a grin. “Want me to show you? I can give you a hands-on demonstration.”

  “I’d rather sleep for a week straight but thanks for the kind offer.”

  Michael’s towel knot slipped and he held it together with his fist. “If you were feeling better, I’d think you made my towel slip with your mind. You are a witch, remember?”

  I wasn’t in the mood for witty banter. “I’m serious. How did I get pregnant? We used condoms.”

  “They’re not foolproof.”

  “You didn’t do this on purpose, did you?” I asked, just needing to address the issue straightaway.

  “What?” To his credit, he looked astonished. “Why the fuck would you ask that? No, of course not.”

  “Your mother told me at lunch I should check the condoms to make sure you hadn’t poked holes in them. She said that’s how much you want a baby.”

  His nostrils flared. He rubbed his jaw. His eyes were angry. “My mother has no business talking about my sex life. Though I doubt she was actually serious. It sounds like she was joking. But why would you think for one second I would do something that manipulative and fucking psycho?”

  He was angrier than I expected. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve made it very clear from the beginning what you want from me is a baby.” I pulled the shirt on over my head.

  Michael was just staring at me, his jaw working.

  “You can’t deny it. Those were the terms. You got me a green card, I would make you a dad.”

  “That is really oversimplifying what we agreed to. Why don’t you just go to bed? We can talk about this tomorrow. Today was a long day.”

  I wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do or if I was overreacting but to me his tone sounded condescending and that just was the perfect exclamation point on the whole situation. It was like everything I’d been worried about with another older man right there in front of me. Daddy knows best. Damn. Ignoring the hand he held out for me I just shifted past him out of the closet and went to the bedroom. It seemed to take all of my energy to even climb up onto the mattress.

  Michael didn’t follow me and that was fine with me.

  I thought I would have trouble falling asleep but the day caught up me with. I was out instantly, though my last thought was that I was having a baby.

  Holy shit.

  * * *

  The apartment was a disaster of dirty glasses and plates, overflowing trash receptacles, and linen napkins the caterers were supposed to pick up in three days’ time, the day after Christmas. It matched my mood as I pulled blankets and a pillow out of my closet in the bedroom. Chaos and confusion. Felicia was already asleep. I took the bedding to the couch, trying to process how I was feeling. I was really damn upset that she thought I was capable of such a dick move as to get her pregnant on purpose.

  But I wasn’t going to explode our whole relationship over that. I just figured she needed rest and time and I needed to let her have that. But there was no denying I was pissed. And excited. And concerned.

  We would have a real conversation the next day and everything would be resolved. It would be fine. Hell, fucking awesome.

  It had to be.

  After turning off the Christmas tree lights, I watched TV until three in the morning, tossing and turning on the couch, before finally falling asleep. I woke up to Felicia shaking me.

  “What? What’s wrong?” The shaking was aggressive. I rubbed my forehead and eyes. “What time is it?”

  “I have no idea. Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

  “Because I thought you needed a good night’s sleep. I didn’t want to disturb you. And I was pissed off,” I said. I wasn’t about to deny that.

  She was leaning over me, her dark hair falling over her face. She looked as angry as I’d felt the night before. I waited for her to say something. When she didn’t I closed my eyes again. It felt like I’d been asleep for an hour, tops.

  “Michael!” She shook me again.

  “What?” I sighed and forced my eyes open again. God, I hated mornings.

  “Can we please talk?” She sat down in the chair across from me, pulling her legs up under the T-shirt she was wearing.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked, assessing her color. She looked a lot better.

  “I feel okay. I slept hard.” Then without preamble, she said, “What are we going to do?”

  I sat up, swinging my feet around to the floor. “About what?” I knew she meant everything, but maybe we could start with one specific portion of the overall issue.

  “Don’t be daft. About the visa. We’re supposed to be deciding this week if we stay together or not.”

  That wasn’t already a guarantee?

  Fuck. I needed coffee. “Let me start the coffee. Do you want me to make you tea?”

  “Yes. But do you want to be with me or not?”

  I was halfway to standing. I reached out and squeezed her knee. “Sweetheart, I just bought a four-million-dollar townhouse for you. I thought it was obvious I wanted to be with you. Besides, I never would have agreed to a party with all my family and friends present if I wasn’t already sure about my feelings.”

  She put her chin on her knees. “But you didn’t say anything last night at the party. There was no toast, or declaration of your feelings.”

  Oh, God. I’d stepped into that trap? “I didn’t think you were the grand gesture type of woman. I’m sorry if I disappointed you.” I was. “Besides, I’d just found out about the pregnancy and I had a lot of shit running through my head. I didn’t know you needed a speech.”

  She’d been with me until I added the last sentence, then she gasped and shot me a frown. “I didn’t need a speech, don’t make me sound like a twat.”

  On that note, I went to the kitchen and took a mug down out of the cabinet. I put it under my coffeemaker and hit the button. I rustled around for tea in a drawer. She’d moved in and taken up at least three drawers with tea crap. I hadn’t even complained. I’d just let her. She’d taken over my life and I had let her and why? Because I wanted this relationship.

  If she couldn’t see that, I wasn’t sure what in the hell else I was supposed to do to prove it. Obviously make a toast but not take it so far that it was a speech. Find that muddy line and I’d give you a thousand bucks.

  My back was still to her but I asked, “What is it you want to do about the visa, Felicia?” I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like her answer.

  “I’m going back to England.”

  I looked at her over my shoulder as I got a teacup down for her. “Just like that? No discussion, no input from me?”

  She nodded. “It’s my decision.”

  That pissed me off. Really pissed me off. “Except now you’re having my baby. So it’s not just your decision. I’m the father. I have a say, too.” A baby. What I desperately wanted. A child to love and raise. We were having a baby and here
she was talking about taking my flesh and blood away from me? Not happening.

  She recoiled from the sound of anger in my voice. “I didn’t say I was going forever. Just while I wait for the fiancée visa.”

  That mollified me slightly. “Not spousal?”

  She shook her head.

  “What if I don’t want you to go? Not just because of the baby but because I don’t want to be without you.”

  “It’s the right thing to do,” she said. “Legally.”

  “Fuck legally. Is that what you want? To be apart from me?” I picked up my coffee mug and took a big swallow, burning the fuck out of my tongue. “Ow, shit.” I set the mug back down, hard, splashing liquid over the back of my hand.

  “No, I don’t want to be away from you. But we have to be logical because I am pregnant. I need to not screw this up.”

  “I… me… where is the we in this?”

  She eyed me. “So what would you have me do?”

  “Marry me and stay here.”

  “Why should I marry you, Michael?” she asked, her voice soft and contemplative.

  Because I loved her. Because I’d been intrigued by her since the first minute I’d met her. But if she didn’t want to marry me, and she wanted to leave, I wasn’t sure now was the right time to tell her how I felt.

  Damn it, I wished I’d told her sooner.

  I made her tea and wished I could read her mind. I didn’t know the answer she was fishing for. I was failing the pop quiz and I hated that. “Because we’re having a baby and I don’t want to risk you getting stuck on another continent for who knows how long.”

  She made a sound of frustration and dropped her feet to the floor. “No. That is never a good reason to get married.”

  Wrong answer, then. Okay, I’d go with choice B. “Because we’re great together.” I brought the tea over to her and set it on the coffee table. “Because from the minute I found out you were the woman I’d been talking to, I knew we had a connection.”

  She just shook her head slowly like I’d failed again.

  “What do you want me to say?” I asked, frustrated.

  “I want you to tell me that you love me.”