Forty Day Fiancé (Sassy in the City 3)

“I have not been married before, no.”

Something about my tone must have alerted him that I was on the edge of hysteria. He finally glanced up from the screen. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head. “Not really. You’re discussing getting a marriage license like we’re picking up a pizza. Get it while you wait.”

“I don’t want you to leave the country,” he said. “My concern is you won’t be allowed reentry.”

Again, so romantic. I was happy to hear that he didn’t like the idea of me being gone permanently, but it still wasn’t exactly a love declaration. “I’m concerned about that too.”

“I can’t live in England. It’s not even a maybe until I’m retirement age. Which contrary to what some people think is not anytime soon.”

“I know that.” The waitress appeared with our lunches and I actually thought my soup looked appetizing. When she left, I took a small spoonful. It almost immediately settled my stomach, thank goodness. “Can we just maybe let it all sit for a minute and talk about this later today? It feels very manic to make an instant decision.”

Michael had a mouthful of burger and couldn’t respond. He was the oddest eater, vacillating between barely eating at all and smashing on huge meals. I guess it wasn’t odd to him, but to me it felt unpredictable. I would have preferred he be in a healthy mood today but obviously not.

I sipped my soup and waited.

But he didn’t react to my statement at all. He just changed the subject. He asked me how the sale of Becca’s clothes was going.

The abrupt shift surprised me but I was relieved. I didn’t want to argue about the visa.

“Actually, it’s almost completely sold out. There are only a few stragglers still up for sale on the site. I’ll have a fair amount of money to transfer to you next week.”

He nodded. “Great. I’ll donate it then.”

“I think that’s very generous of you.” It was. I wanted to say more, ask more, but instead I just sipped my soup.

He bit his burger and didn’t elaborate.

Our vibe was off. The lunch felt weird, the day felt strained. What the hell was going on?

He must have felt it too because this time when he changed the subject it had nothing to do with us personally. He asked me, “What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever seen on one of your murder shows?”

I appreciated the effort to stay away from hot topics, so I just shrugged. “Oh, geez, there are so many things people have done that are bonkers. I think the ones that are literally so stupid in their planning aren’t as interesting as the devious ones. Who murders three family members with antifreeze over eighteen months and thinks no one will be on to you?”

“Someone who really hates their family, I guess.”

“People are nuts.” I gave him a smile. “Thank you for trying to distract me. I appreciate the effort.”

“I’d really like to distract you by getting you naked and driving you crazy, but that’s against the rules, so I’m stuck with crime TV.”

That made me laugh. He looked forlorn.

“Maybe we can work something out. Bend the rules a little.” If I had to go back to the UK before my visa expired, I was not stepping foot on a plane without having sex with Michael first. That didn’t give us much time.

“Don’t tease me. Is that an actual offer?”

“Not today, because I feel like hell from not sleeping, so don’t try to run me home for a quickie before apartment hunting. But yes, it’s an actual offer.” He wasn’t the only one being tormented by nights lying in bed next to each other. Not only did I want him physically, I wanted the intimacy it brought.

“That turned my day around completely,” he said. “I am really fucking happy now.”

Sure, because he wasn’t the one who felt like they had a golf ball in their throat.

I love you.

I swallowed the words. Again.

* * *