“Sounds like very stringent protocols you follow.”
“Oh, they are,” Fran comments, and I almost sense a smile on her firm lips. “Very stringent.”
“That’s great to hear.” I smile at her. “A relief, to be honest. I appreciate your dedication to the monumental responsibility you’re tasked with.”
“Wow. Well, thank you, Mr. Winslow.”
“Are you going to need us to come back for another interview?” I question nonchalantly and use all my strength to keep up the loathsome small talk while ignoring the tension that’s vibrating off Daisy’s body.
Fran looks down at her notepad. Then at Daisy. Then at me. Her eyes waver a few times, but eventually, she says, “No, sir. You will not need to come back for another interview. I feel I have obtained all the information I needed for your wife’s case, and I am happy to report that I will be recommending her for a green card.”
Thank fuck.
“Really?” Daisy questions and hops up from her chair. “I get to stay in the country? I get to live here? With my husband?”
Fran nods. “Yes, Mrs. Winslow.”
“Oh my God, Fran!” Daisy shouts and jumps around on her feet. “I could kiss you right now!”
“Please don’t do that, ma’am.”
“So, we’re all set?” I quickly ask, and Fran nods.
“Yes. Good luck and congratulations.”
“Thank you!” Daisy squeals and jumps into my arms. “Thank you, Fran! I love you, Fran!” she continues to shout, and I don’t hesitate to carry her right out of ol’ Fran’s office.
Once I get us safely on the elevator and behind closed doors, I set Daisy to her feet and kiss the hell out of her.
“Babe, I love you,” I whisper between kisses. “But, fuck, I was scared shitless you were going to break in the middle of that interview.”
“Oh my God,” she says through a giggle, her lips still permanently attached to mine. “Is that why you started talking so much? I had a moment where I thought you’d been abducted by pod people.”
“Says the woman who kept shooting fucking finger guns at the immigration agent.”
“I didn’t know what to do with my hands!” She giggles some more, and it’s the best sound I’ve ever heard in my life.
“Fuck, baby, once you started smiling like you were trying to get your mouth to reach your damn hairline, I knew I had to do whatever I could to get you out of there.”
“And boy oh boy, am I glad you did.” Daisy snorts and hops up to wrap her legs around my waist. She places erratic kisses all over my face, and I don’t hesitate to squeeze her luscious ass with my big hands.
“Now that you saved me from being deported by Fantastic Fran, what’s next, husband?” she whispers against my mouth.
“First, home, so I can fuck you senseless. Then, we get ready for Jude and Sophie’s wedding.”
Daisy giggles, but then, she leans back and stares deep into my eyes. “And then what do we do?’
“We spend the rest of our lives together.”
Her responding smile lights up my whole fucking world.
“There will be a night, though. One wild, unexpected night in a seemingly predictable life where you, my sweet boy, will make a pact with a stranger from which there will be great consequence.”
There’s only one thing Cleo failed to mention that night in her dark, velvet-draped room—that Daisy would be the kind of consequence I would pray will never change.
Ten hours later…
Daisy
I take a bite of delicious wedding cake and look across the room, where I spot Flynn standing in a corner off to the side of the dance floor, chatting with his brother Remy.
I don’t yet know all the details of what happened between them last night after the rehearsal dinner, but from what I understand from Flynn’s limited explanation, Remy broke open our huge Pandora’s box of lies and dragged Flynn through a tense questioning.
My shoulders sag. And to think, while he was going through all that, I was finding out about the little bambino in my belly. To say the past twenty-four hours have been a bit of a roller-coaster ride would be quite the understatement. But I can’t deny I’d ride that crazy roller coaster a million times over if it meant I’d end up in the same place—married to Flynn, with a precious baby on the way.
As I place another bite of cake into my mouth, an approving moan falls from my lips, but that’s quickly overcome by what sounds like a text message notification.
Quickly, I locate my purse beneath my chair at the head table and realize both Damien and Gwen have been trying to reach me since my dead battery abruptly ended our FaceTime chat.
The whole screen looks a little like a psycho-killer movie massacre, but the last two texts in the group chat are…downright dire.
Damien: Okay, that’s it. I’m getting on the phone right now and calling everyone I know until it leads me to Liam Neeson’s number, and when I get him on the phone, I’m going to pay him as much money as it takes to fly to New York, feel if the wind is blowing from the east, and find your cute little stranger-marrying ass.
Gwen: Michael, my boyfriend from ten years ago, has “connections.” I’m waiting for a text back, but we did enough freaky stuff that I KNOW I can blackmail him into using them if I have to. Maybe he, and this Liam, can team up.
Holy hell. I’m an asshole.
Me: You guys, I am so, so, so sorry. My phone died last night, and it’s a very long, crazy story, but all you need to know is that I’m good. Fantastic, even. I love you both so much, and I swear, I’m doing really, really good.
I hit send and add one more message to the chat.
Me: Oh and, Damien, I need to permanently stay on the East Coast.
Damien: You’re good? YOU’RE GOOD?!! Listen, missy, I’m going to spank you so hard the next time I see you, and I’ve already visualized the whole scene happening on the West Coast. So, you’d better give me a damned good reason if I’m going to mentally rearrange my vision to accommodate smelly New York.
Me: I’m in love with my husband and he’s in love with me, and yeah, I’d kind of like to keep living with him.
Damien: Well…hot damn! I guess you’re off the hook, then. Because that’s a pretty good reason.
Damien: Happy for you, Daisy. Even if you’re a little biotch and made me cry!
Gwen: Time to settle in, darling.
Me: Settle in? For what?
Gwen: Happiness.
“Come dance with me.” Warm hands wrap around my waist, and I glance back to see Flynn standing behind me, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“Everything go okay with Remy?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “We’re good.”
“Is he…mad at us? At me? For…lying to everyone?” I ask just as I lock the screen of my phone and set it on the table.
“No, babe.” Flynn shakes his head. “He gets it. But even if he were pissed, it wouldn’t fucking matter. You and I are a package deal.”
“A package deal. I like that.” I smile and reach out to adjust his tie. “Did you…tell him…about…?” I question, and Flynn places a gentle hand to my belly.