Chapter 15
MY EYES CRACKED open twenty minutes before the alarm went off and instead of springing out of bed and heading to the bathroom, I stared at her lovely face instead. I never got bored looking at her and, like this, I could stare my fill, no questions asked. But after a few minutes, I had to fight the urge to smooth that rust-colored hair back from her face. I wanted to touch that soft cheek, run my thumb over those full, rosy lips.
Wow, she was stunning… even with bed hair and no makeup, her long cinnamon lashes lying peacefully against her pale cheeks. Her soft breathing. And the way she’d touched me last night, something stirred, replacing those tender feelings.
Slick, hot arousal. I wanted her again. Well, actually—I amended the thought—I wanted her still. Last night’s release had been a pale shadow of what I’d knew it could have been if I’d given in to her request, if I’d come inside her. The mere thought of it crackled over me with an electric energy. The usual urges that came with morning wood knotted into something tighter, more demanding, even painful. I wanted to roll her gently on her back, part her legs and taste her again. Then I wanted to quench my thirst deep inside of her heat, riding those silky soft thighs to release.
Damn… an extra-long shower again this morning might do the trick. Rubbing one out might take the edge off, but I needed this woman out of my bed ASAP or I’d most definitely give in to temptation tonight.
And I couldn’t. We couldn’t. Right now she was beholden to me for this favor I’d granted. I couldn’t let this happen between us because the power balance was uneven. She was not paying for my cooperation with her body.
But I was not a goddamn saint for chrissakes. I could only say no for so long.
When I got out of the shower, I remembered belatedly that in my distraction, I’d neglected to grab my clothes for the day. I usually showered at night and really had had no need of a shower again. It had been an impulse decision once I was already in the bathroom. I’d jumped into the shower in the vain hope that it would help me overcome this. It was either that or stay in bed and initiate what would certainly be some smoking hot morning sex.
With a towel wrapped around my waist, I crept back into the bedroom and glanced at the clock. She usually woke up around this time of the morning but I’d turned off my alarm early. I’d wake her up after I got dressed, so I dropped my towel and began pulling clothes out of my dresser.
“Mmm. Nice view,” she murmured from the bed from which she had a full view of my bare ass. I hurriedly pulled on my boxers before turning around.
“Didn’t realize there was a full moon out this morning, did you?” I snorted.
She smiled, doing a full body stretch that gave her movement an almost feline-like quality. One thousand percent sexy.
“Come here,” she said.
I swallowed. I was not going anywhere near her when I was only partially dressed and she was laid out like that.
“Can we talk for a minute? Or should I get up and go over to the washroom naked in order to get your attention?”
I took a deep breath, stepped into my jeans and pulled them on, then walked over to the bed. She patted my side, as if she wanted me to sit down. Meanwhile, she struggled to sit up, resting on her elbows. Her shirt—my shirt—was huge on her and the neckline dipped down to reveal a large slice of her creamy breast, just above the nipple. She seemed unaware, and I fought to keep my eyes above her neckline.
“What’s up?” I asked, as if I didn’t know.
“Can we talk about last night?”
I glanced at the clock. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“It won’t take long. I just wanted to know—”
“Why we didn’t go all the way last night?”
She laughed. “Jeez, you make it sound like we’re still sixteen. But yeah. I mean, I’m not going to be coy and say it was because you didn’t want me. Because I know you did.”
I bit the inside of my lip to keep from smiling. So like Kat. As honest as ever. No pretensions, no games. No manipulations. No fishing for a compliment though she was goddamn-well worthy of nearly all of them.
“I just didn’t think it was wise to jump into something like that without…”
“… discussing it first?” She nodded, her eyes widening with obvious hope. “Hence my desire to have a discussion about it now.”
I swallowed. “I’ve jumped into things in the past and they were the biggest mistakes of my life. I don’t jump anymore.”
She frowned slightly and then nodded. “Okay. So what should we discuss? I’m on birth control and I’m clean. I’ve been checked since my last—since last time.”
Last time. Huh. A streak of jealousy sliced through me to think of some other guy having what I’d denied myself last night. What I wanted more and more with each passing day and yet wouldn’t allow myself to have.
“Uh, huh. It’s not really that I wanted to discuss, though that is important. I’m also clean and it’s been a while.”
She blinked as if surprised.
I cleared my throat. “But there’s more. I don’t like—I don’t think we should start anything physical.”
Her face clouded. “Well, newsflash. We already did do physical stuff. And you started it.”
I ran a hand through my hair, gritting my teeth so that my jaw muscles bulged. “I mean, we shouldn’t take it any further.”
“Because…?”
“Because we work together…”
“But we’re married.”
I shook my head. “But soon-to-be divorced, remember? And trust me, working together will be more than just awkward if we’ve had a physical relationship and then ended it.”
Her eyebrows twitched together. “Why worry about awkward? I’ve never worried about that. Who gives a shit?”
“I don’t really care what other people think.” I shrugged. “I’m talking about our feelings, our…” I cleared my throat, trying to find the words.
Her eyes narrowed. “Our own emotions? You think I’m going to get emotionally involved?”
I flicked a glance at her. It wasn’t just her I was worried about, but I had no problem allowing her to believe just that.
“Also I don’t want you to think I expect sex as a payment for doing this whole marriage thing for you.”
Her face clouded, and she pushed herself up to a full sitting position. “Uh, why on earth would I think that?”
I shrugged. “Because it’s a power imbalance. Like if I was your boss…”
“If you were my boss, I’d have to kick your ass on a daily basis. But this whole payment thing… it assumes that I don’t like or want sex and would only be doing it for you.”
I froze. I guess she was right about that…
She leaned toward me and I enjoyed a full view of her mouth-watering cleavage. Reluctantly, I tore my eyes away, frustrated at my own body and my constant reaction to her. I had zero control where she was concerned. And, I’d just had two orgasms in the past ten hours that hadn’t been enough to get my mind off how much I wanted her. I was still as hungry as an apex predator during migration season.
“Newsflash. Girls like sex, too. Some of us love it, as a matter of fact.”
Oh gawd. That was about the last thing I needed to hear. Blinking, I ran a hand through my hair. It felt a lot shakier than before just remembering what she’d sounded like when she’d climaxed. “Yeah, that was kind of a stupid thing for me to say.”
She shook her head. “Aren’t you at least a little curious about how we’d be together?”
Curious? No. More like obsessed. I pressed my lips together. “I just think there’s too much potential for problems.”
“We have an agreed-upon expiration date, right? No harm, no foul.” Her eyes dropped to my lips and she slowly licked hers with that pink devil tongue of hers. That tongue that had wreaked havoc on my senses the previous night. The one that had made me want to throw caution to the wind.
But every time, every damn time, I’d ever done that in the past, it had ended up in disaster. And trying to extricate myself from said disasters always constricted the trap. It hadn’t been that long ago that I’d had to completely jettison my old life to gain freedom.
I wasn’t prepared to do it again. Because this time, I had too much to lose. Too much that I cared about.
And with Kat, I knew—I just knew—that it would be worse. She’d cover me and blow through my life like a flash fire, here and gone, bringing complete destruction wherever she touched. Without even intentionally setting out to do so or even being aware of having done it in the aftermath.
I took a deep breath. “I think it’s best if we go slow, no matter what we decide.”
Her mouth curved—almost seductively, I thought. “Six months of marriage isn’t slow enough for you?”
It’s not real, I almost said. I didn’t want to keep repeating it to her. She knew it damn well herself. It’s not real, was going to have to become my goddamn mantra over the next little while, while we lived together, while we were a married couple.
It’s not real. Not real.
“I need to think about it. About a lot of things.” I shifted where I sat to avoid the view down her shirt. “In the meantime, I wanted to ask if you would let me handle this situation with your brother and his pothead buddy.”
Her brows knit. “Handle it, how? Challenge them to a duel or something?”
“No, I just mean… getting them out of here and avoiding any more crap like last night. It’s seriously pissing me off how they treat you.”
Her features smoothed and those big blue eyes got even bigger as she studied me. She said nothing for a while, as if pondering how to respond. Then she silently nodded. “Yeah, yeah I’d like that. Please.”
I got up, grabbed my shirt and pulled it on. “Time to get going. Think we’ll have to grab breakfast in the cafeteria at work.”
“Barf,” she said, but slipped out of bed. I left the room shortly thereafter to get my things together—and avoid another glimpse of that gorgeous naked body. I must be stark raving mad to try to avoid the sight of all that smooth, creamy skin. The curves of her hips, the swell of her gorgeous, perky tits. The pale pink color of her nipples. The thin strip of proof that she was a natural redhead where those luscious thighs met.
Remembering it made me hard yet again. I’d just rubbed one out less than an hour before. It was like I was eighteen with all systems set on perma-horny all over again.
I also went to wake up the deadbeat guests and get them roused and ready. To say they were reluctant was an understatement. I ended up blaring Queen on my speakers in the front room. They finally stirred about halfway through Bohemian Rhapsody.
“What the hell is a Scaramouche, anyway?” I heard Mike ask Derek as they stumbled toward the guest bathroom.
Soon Kat joined me, her gorgeous copper-colored hair brushed out and gleaming over her army-green hoodie. She twitched her head, and I saw them—the hickeys I’d left on her neck the night before.
Damn it. It turned me on like little else had—besides her hands on me, of course. Those small mementoes of my mouth tasting her neck, my hands all over her round, soft breasts. The way she’d moved against me, the way she sounded when she came to climax.
Ugh. This hard-on was never going away, apparently. She should come with that warning label on the Viagra bottles about causing erections lasting more than four hours. Looked like I was suffering from perpetual wood for the foreseeable future.
Desperate for a way to get her out from under my roof and fast, my mind raced. The first step was getting her back into the guest room. And I couldn’t do that until her unwanted guests were on their way.
“Guys,” I said when they were gathering up their things for the day. I reached for my wallet and pulled out a couple bills. “We talked it over and we think it might be best if you two stay at a nearby hotel.” I handed them a paper I’d just printed out. “Here are five places that have good ratings and are close.” I held out the bills to them. “And something to help you with the cost of the room.”
The two guys looked at each other and when Derek opened his mouth to protest, I held up a hand. “No, you’re going. I’m not having a repeat of what happened last night. And I don’t care for how you speak to my wife. Let’s keep things, cool, yeah? We’ll spend time with you after work and on the weekend. We can take you out to Hollywood or to Disneyland.”
Kat entered the room with her bag slung over her shoulder on the tail end of my pitch. The look Derek gave her was one of pure hurt. “It’s okay with you that your husband’s tossing us out?”
She paused as she locked gazed with him and I saw something in her eyes, as if she were instinctually responding to Derek’s hurt feelings. Then she shook her head, as if snapping herself out of something. “Last night was too much. When you pulled out the weed, you made the decision that you weren’t appropriate guests to stay here.”
He took the paper but refused the money, saying he had plenty. Kat didn’t push it so I tucked it back into my wallet. “I’ll make us some dinner tonight. Give me your number and I’ll let you know when we’ll be home.”
Mike rolled his eyes and Derek gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Let us treat you, to make up for it. If this town has half-decent Chinese, I’ll bring your favorite. Cashew chicken.” He threw a tremulous smile at his sister as she held out her hand for his phone to program her number into it. I could sense it from here, her wavering.
But there was no way in hell I was allowing them back to stay so they could mistreat her as they had the night before. Otherwise I’d be putting him in a hospital for whatever shitty thing he’d inevitably do or say to his sister. This was all so weird. Kat, who took zero crap from any of the dickheads we worked with seemed to really have a soft spot for this deadbeat of a brother of hers.
The guys proceeded to gather up their things with a bit of muttering—mostly coming from Mike. Derek seemed more resigned to his fate. But he gave Kat a hug on the way out. “See you soon, sis.”
Then he left, head drooping as he watched the ground dejectedly on the way out to the car. Kat watched him with unreadable blue eyes and a complex expression on her face. As if she had fifteen things racing through her thoughts at once.
I loaded the dog and an unusually quiet Kat into the car and, aside from Max’s constant panting and some road noise, the inside of the car was silent. We made our way down the broad boulevards of Irvine, all marked by artful dividers and carefully placed trees. Irvine was the quintessential planned community. Many lamented its lack of character but I liked the order that it presented. A clean, quiet city.
Kat hadn’t moved, one hand clenched into a fist, the other holding a phone that she scrolled through with her thumb.
“What’s up?” I finally broke the silence.
She took a deep breath in and out. “I’m searching for a local chapter meeting.”
I raised my brow. “Of…? Exasperating Red-haired Expat Canadians?”
She threw me side-eye, then hesitated, lowering her phone. “Al-Anon.”
I blinked. “Isn’t that for addicts?” Was there something she wasn’t telling me? Maybe she’d had similar struggles as her brother?
“That’s Alcoholics Anonymous—or Narcotics Anonymous, or various other organizations depending on the addiction. Al-Anon, Nar-Anon, etc. is for family members and friends of addicts.”
I blinked but didn’t look at her. “Oh.”
“I really think a meeting would do me some good right now.”
I raised my brow. “You used to go a lot? When you lived in Canada?”
She shrugged. “Yeah for a while. When I started college. I’d never heard of it and there was a chapter at my college campus. I started going and talking to others. It helped me feel less alone.”
I nodded. “I take it your parents never went.”
“My dad went to one meeting, declared it a bunch of bullshit and never went back. Mum refused altogether. They hate anything that might even remotely resemble tough love. They prefer the mollycoddling approach because that has worked so goddamn well with him.” Her voice was sharp and bitter—something I’d rarely ever heard.
I thought about their conversation that I’d overheard the night before, the way he’d moved up to her, grabbed onto her and was begging her to do something for him. Just this one thing, he’d said. You could really help me out.
I swallowed and decided to take the delicate approach to digging deeper into the subject she’d lightly brushed aside the night before. “Derek seems to really want you to go back to Canada. Is everything okay with your parents?”
She darted me a look before beginning to fiddle with her phone again. “I guess they’re fine. He didn’t tell me much.”
We drove another block before the next question formed in my mind and I’d figured out how to reword it in an unthreatening manner. “Is there anything I should know? For example, why you left Canada?”
She turned her head and looked at me, then spoke in a flat voice. “I left because Mia was sick. My best friend needed me.”
I’d heard about that before so it wasn’t a surprise that she’d repeat it. “Is that the entire reason?”
She blinked and gripped her phone tight. “Why are you asking me all this?”
“Because I need to know. It’s occurred to you that immigration does a background check on you with your home country, right? If there’s anything…”
She frowned. “I got the background check and submitted it. I’m clear. I’m not some secret felon if that’s what you’re asking.”
I rolled my eyes as I hit the blinker to turn into the parking lot of Draco. Max barked excitedly. He adored coming to work with me because that meant he got spoiled.
“I know you’re not a felon. I just—I just want to say I’m here for you if you want to talk. About your brother or anything else.”
She smiled faintly. “Thanks.”
I frowned, mulling over the past two days as I got out of the car, grabbed my bag and the dog leash and locked up. I watched Kat’s bright hair swing across her back as I followed her into the main entry of the building.
There was something up and weird going on with her family—and not just the shitty behavior I’d seen Derek show his sister. There was something about the parents. It seemed like Derek ruled the roost there, including the parents. That must have been shit to grow up with.
Of course, who was I to talk? My parents had been so busy wrapped up in their own lives and image. And they were obsessed with how their two children fit like accessories into that overall image. I doubted they’d ever seen us as real people at all.
Yeah, the trap I’d wiggled myself out of while practically having to chew my own arm off to get free had not started with the doomed marriage to Claire. My feet had been clamped inside those steel jaws long before that.
That same old oppressive gloom weighed down on me just to think about it and I had to remind myself that those things were in the past. Hopefully, soon, the distant past.
At lunch, Warren approached me with a slap on the back. “You musta tried another one on her last night. I saw her neck, bruh. Way to go.” He held out his fist for me to bump. I just looked at it, gave him a grouchy sneer and he retracted it. “Tap the Maple, eh? Man, to be able to have sex with a hot girl whenever you want. It must be great to be married.”
Yeah, whenever I want. Sure. ‘Cause that’s what marriage was all about.
“Go back to your bugs, Warren,” I growled, “before I move up your deadlines.”
I ran into Kat only a few times. She was weird today, distant and a little distracted. And she’d been keeping her distance.
I couldn’t tell whether it was because of our talk this morning, because of what her brother had said to her or because of my questions about it. Part of me was determined to get the story behind what was going on there. But if I dug deep into her life, and she into mine, it might make it all the more difficult to pull things apart again.
As I reminded myself practically daily, this marriage had an expiration date on it. Better to keep my distance and emerge unscathed. After all, I knew I could do that well—be emotionally distant. It might make for a shitty husband—and I knew I had been one the first time around—but hopefully it would make us great exes.
I found an empty conference room to spread out my concept notes and rudimentary sketches on the VR game and worked there for an hour or so. Kat slid in to find me at around five. She glanced at the table, then at me, tucking a long strand of that gorgeous hair behind her ear. “Uh, hey. So you’re still working?”
“Did you hear from your brother? Did he still want to get together for dinner?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t heard and to be honest, even though he talked about getting Chinese, he’s usually a lot of talk. If he doesn’t text me first, I’ll touch base with him later tonight about the weekend.”
She moved deeper into the room as something on the table caught her eye. She picked up one of the sheets covered with my scrawl, squinting as she tried to read it.
“Is this the thing you’re working on to present to the officers? For the new position?”
I cleared my throat, suddenly wishing I could yank the notes away from her. Weirdly self-conscious without realizing why. Probably because, when it came to all matters gaming, I highly valued her opinion, and this concept was far from developed enough for me to ask for feedback from her.
Kat leaned her curvy hip against the table as she pondered the notes, then without a word, laid a sheet down while she picked up another. I watched her as those blue eyes slid down the page and she chewed her thumbnail absently. She was dazzling, even when she made no effort to be…
“Hmm,” she mumbled, snatching up another sheet. “I see what you’re aiming for here. A cross between a Battle Royale first-person shooter and a sandbox game so you can design your own hideout fort. Interesting.”
I sat back and flicked the pencil in my hand with irritation. “You hate it.”
She straightened, startled. “Nooo. I wouldn’t say that. I just think it could be more… original. More on brand with Draco?”
I frowned at her. “But that’s just the point. I’m showing how Draco can expand beyond its original concept of Dragon Epoch.”
She shrugged. “Sure but…”
“But?”
She locked gazes with me, then leaned forward, that soft hair brushing across my face. I’d wound it in my hands the night before while I’d kissed her, touched her and made her moan. It had been so hot when she’d touched and rubbed my dick, as if she’d done it a hundred times before. Her concern that I get mine after I’d given her hers was actually rather sweet.
And very much appreciated.
She pointed to one of my sheets of paper. “Why not make it a medieval shooter and sniper game? There is no Player vs. Player feature in Dragon Epoch so why not give the people a chance to fight each other in this game instead? The forts they build can be the old medieval type. There could be a phase for gathering resources, like in Minecraft. And building. And designing terrain. The game could start on common ground and then branch out to player-designed areas.”
“And what exactly are they shooting if they don’t have modern assault rifles?”
“Oh that’s easy. The usual fantasy fare—bow and arrow, crossbows, magical wands and staves. You can shoot out magic missiles, meteor showers, fireballs or even some steampunk version of an early hand grenade. Or just anything—spears, throwing stars, boomerangs. Whatever.”
I sat up and stared at her for a moment. Then grabbed the nearest empty sheet of paper and started writing that down. It was damn brilliant. She started talking again. “You could even tie it into Dragon Epoch. Let people take things they’ve built or won into the main game as incentive after they’ve earned a certain amount of points or kills or whatever. And they could somehow integrate their creation back into the Dragon Epoch game, if they want.”
She kept talking, and I kept taking notes.
“And you know, for the next phase, you could try to go with a mobile app. Like our own version of Pokemon Go. People could walk around their neighborhoods and find treasure or weapons or building materials to integrate into the game. Keep the flavor a medieval fantasy so it’s all seamless and builds on the other games. You can reuse the lore from Dragon Epoch that way, too. Have intertwining stories and crossover quests. That way it encourages our existing player base to branch out to other Draco products instead of being something completely new like a contemporary shoot ‘em up or something futuristic. Besides, there’re already tons of those. You don’t want to compete with them.”
I nodded, scribbled, nodded some more. She quietly watched me. “Or you can just completely toss this idea. I won’t be offended.”
“Why would I do that? It’s a good idea.”
She flipped her hair back over her shoulder, a waft of stunning coconut smell followed the action. “Well your idea was good to begin with, I was just building on it.”
I said nothing, just continued taking notes.
I felt her gaze on my face. “You’re really stressed out about this, aren’t you?”
I flicked my gaze up at her while continuing to write. “I really want the job, Kat.”
She nodded. “I know you do. Believe in yourself a little. You have a very good shot at it.”
I blew out a breath.
She grinned. “Well at least you have a trust fund to fall back on if you don’t get it.” She made a face as if she meant to duck or hide from my reaction to her tease.
I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. “You’re lucky I know you’re joking.”
She bit her lip. “I am a bit curious. How much is that bad boy worth, anyway?”
I stared at her sidelong. “You honestly don’t want to know. I spend very little of my time thinking about it anymore.”
She sat down on the table, facing me, swinging her free leg while the other braced on the ground. “Why is that?”
“My father has relied entirely on his inherited fortune to make his way in life. I’m a better man than he is. And I sure as hell don’t need that inheritance to succeed.”
She folded her arms across her chest and studied me with a tilted head. “So you’re proving yourself.”
I laughed. “I’ve got nothing to prove to him. He’s pretty disgusted with the choice I made to leave that life behind and get my hands dirty working for someone else.”
She shook her head, smiling good naturedly. “No, not proving yourself to him. But you’ve got a lot to prove to yourself.”
I blinked, returning her speculative stare. “Maybe.”
“I’ve got a good feeling about this. I think you’re in. And no, not because I’m Mia’s friend either. It’s just a feeling.”
“Well I need more than a feeling to feel better about all this waiting.”
“Just do your best to convey your vision, because you have a great one. Adam may have started out as a programmer. But in reality, he’s a visionary. This company, this game were products of his vision. And you can be the visionary he wants to see. Doesn’t matter that you’re QA and Jeremy a dev.”
I quirked a smile, somewhat heartened by her pep talk. “Thanks.”
She stood. “When you finish the game design document, I’ll be happy to look it over if you want me to.”
She put a reassuring hand on my shoulder, then let it slip off, and partially down my arm, which she squeezed before letting go. Her touch burned me through my shirt and I swallowed hastily.
Then she turned and was gone. I stared at the doorway for long moments, wondering why I was finding it hard to breathe. Like the fresh air had been sucked out of this room and had followed her sunshiny presence as she left.
With our unwanted guests out of the house, we met a few more times with them. Once to take them up to Hollywood for some Walk of Fame tourism. And once to Disneyland, which we spared half a day for and left them to enjoy the rest.
Shortly after that, they disappeared. But I’d noticed that Kat had chosen never again to be alone with her brother. He did mention several times how much he wished she’d come back to Canada soon. Every time he said it, she got tense.
So, I was relieved when they finally hit the road a few days later.
Our time together as husband and wife—post the unwanted guest era—regressed to its new normal. Kat retreated to her room at night, thank God, and I slept alone. Though not that well. I lay in bed for hours each night craving her next to me, craving the feel of her body beside me, beneath my hands. Hungering to touch that silky hair. She’d only been in my bed two nights but I’d quickly gotten used to it.
We were cordial, but each kept our distance. Kat left the discussion about getting physical at that and I didn’t touch it with a ten-foot pole. She was already too much of a delectable temptation and she now slept dozens of feet away from me with a wall in between.
But some days I’d walk into the living room. She’d be in the middle of doing yoga, leggings and a tank top on, her tight little ass in the air. Or on weekends, she’d walk around with her robe half open revealing something lacy underneath.
To say nothing of the incident where she’d tried to fix a leaky faucet in the guest bathroom and had splashed water all over her thin t-shirt. Her hardened nipples were as easily visible as if she’d been topless when she innocently came to me to ask for my tools. Jesus. I had a nice hard tool I desperately wanted her to handle. Again.
Even the sounds of her moving around on the other side of that wall were enough to keep me up at night. I’d obsess over what she was doing, what she was wearing, if anything. What position she slept in.
Goddamn. Sexual frustration seemed to be my normal mode these days. Rubbing one or two or three out in the shower just wasn’t doing it for me. I wanted her day and night and it was starting to drive me slowly insane. And cold showers did not help one bit. That was a huge ridiculous myth. Talk about society’s great lie. All cold showers did was leave you shivering and pissed off and yet still sexually frustrated.
To combat these temptations, I kept long hours at the office and we started going to and from work separately. We established a relaxed but distant pattern to our living and marital arrangement. I tried not to think too hard about why it wasn’t as satisfying as it was comfortable.
The summer was in its final weeks when we were summoned into the immigration office for our inevitable interview. If things went well, it would be our only one. And as we were easily able to prove a long-time relationship of over a year before the wedding happened, things went smoothly. No need to memorize what kind of face cream she used or toothpaste or—god forbid—how often we had sex or whatever else.
The immigration officer assured us he saw no problems on his end and would recommend for Kat’s green card. We celebrated over smoothies after the interview, then headed back to work where we both burned the midnight oil to make up for our afternoon off.
Things were going along smoothly and our expiration date, whenever that was, drew near. I’d counted on a feeling of relief. But it never came. Instead, it felt like a weight in my gut. Like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Because the past had ingrained that into me. Just when things might get comfortable, something was bound to happen to screw that all up—even if that something was brought about based on my own stupid decisions.
Here’s hoping that shoe wouldn’t drop down on top of either one of us.