Forty Day Fiancé (Sassy in the City 3)

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.