Breaking Down (The Breaking Series Book 4)

by Juliana Haygert

  I stared at the phone and barely registered Gui coming back to the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?”

  I lowered my phone as if he had caught me drooling at pics of shirtless men on the internet. “Nothing, just checking my social media.”

  Pedro stumbled out of the hallway. “I’m here, I’m here. Let’s go.”

  I scrunched my nose. “Actually, I’m not going.”

  “What happened?” Gui asked, concern lacing his words.

  I smiled at him. “Nothing to be worried about. I just … I got my period yesterday and things are nasty down here.” I gestured toward my lower parts, making both guys cringe. Bingo. “And the cramps are starting. I better stay in bed for a little while more.”

  “Hm, sim, do that.” Gui retreated a few steps as if it could be contagious. I bit back a laugh.

  “Isso. Rest.” Pedro waved at me and marched to the door. “See you later.”

  The guys bolted out of the apartment and I chuckled. Then, I froze.

  Meu Deus, Tyler was coming here. Now.

  I looked down at myself, to make sure I looked okay. Jeans, a plaid shirt with rolled up sleeves, and cowboy boots. Nothing much. My practice clothes were in my backpack, and I also had a few things in Gui’s locker at the club.

  For the next thirty minutes, I paced the living room, checked my phone two hundred times, turned on The Bachelor but didn’t pay any attention to it, and I tried not to bite my nails off.

  Forty minutes passed.

  Then fifty.

  Then sixty.

  What was he thinking, that he could toy with me? I had just opened the messaging app and was about to text him when the intercom rang. I raced to the kitchen, almost tripping on my feet in the process, and answered the call.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Fernandes,” the bellman said. “Tyler Reid is here. Should I send him up?”

  “Yes, please.” My voice was calm but my hands started shaking.

  Even though it would take him a couple of minutes to hop on the elevator and come up, I rushed to the door as if the kitchen was on fire. My heart beat fast against my ribs as I opened the door and waited, wondering, wishing, hoping, he was here for a good reason.

  The elevator’s soft ding echoed through the hallway, and two seconds later, Tyler stepped out. I held my breath. Instantly, his eyes found mine.

  He was more handsome than I remembered, which made my heart do a flip. And taller too. His shirt hugged his wide shoulders, and his jeans seemed to have been molded to his thick thighs. I tried not to stare at him, but I was too nervous to do anything else.

  “Hi,” he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

  Suddenly on the defensive, I crossed my arms. “Hey.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Can we talk?”

  He was here. Did that mean he had reconsidered my offer? He wouldn’t have come all this way to tell me no again, right?

  I stopped the thoughts hemorrhaging in my brain and stepped back, allowing him to enter the apartment.

  He walked in and glanced around. “Nice place.”

  “It’s my brother’s, not mine.” I closed the front door and walked around him. “I was going to get a Coke for me. Do you want anything?” I started for the kitchen. “There’s Coke, guaraná, orange and grape juice, water, sparkling water, and also the essentials like beer, whiskey, and wine.”

  He followed me into the kitchen, but halted on the other side of the island. “What’s guaraná?”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “It’s a Brazilian soda made from a fruit called guaraná. It’s rather good. Want to try it?”

  A knot knitted his forehead. “Um, no. Not right now. And since it’s too early for the essentials, maybe a Coke.”

  I opened the fridge and grabbed two cans of Coke. “Here you go.” I handed him the can and then leaned back on the counter. I took a sip from my Coke and stared at him while he still scanned the apartment. My defensive mode rang louder. “All right, Tyler, I don’t have the heart for this, and I’m leaving for Brazil in four days. If you have something to say, say it.”

  He returned his eyes to me and sighed. “I lied before. I’m desperate for money and I want … to talk more about your proposition.”

  “Okay … hm, but first tell me, how much do you need?”

  He paused. “Two hundred and fifty thousand dollars and counting.”

  It was a lot of money, but not too bad. At least he didn’t need millions. “May I ask if you’re in trouble, like do you owe money to some mafia boss or something? Sorry, but I don’t want to be attached to a criminal. That wouldn’t help with the green card process.”

  He let out a hollow chuckle. “No, I’m not a criminal. Only if having lots of debt is a crime. I mean, it certainly doesn’t look good, but I'm not a guy who'll end up in jail—maybe homeless.” He inhaled sharply. “How much can you offer me?”

  “Don’t you want to know the other details first?”

  “I know they matter, but right now, I’m more interest about my end of the deal.”

  I took a deep breath. “Three hundred thousand dollars.” His eyes widened and I went on. “If we get married and I apply for a green card, we have to stay married for two years before divorcing. If we divorce before completing two years, I lose the green card. So, here’s my deal: I'll give you one third of the money on the night of our wedding, the second third on our first anniversary, and the final third on our second anniversary. Does that sound okay?”

  He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “What else do I need to know about your end of the deal?”

  “I would have to research more, but I think the first thing would be to actually get married and move in together.”

  “Move in together? Can’t we just pretend to live together?”

  I shook my head. “The immigration officer assigned to our case will find out if we’re not living together and then my green card would be denied.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “After the wedding, I can contact an immigration lawyer, and he’ll handle the green card application. As far as I know, the immigration office will then contact us and schedule an interview, about three or four months after the application is received. They will ask questions about us, about our relationship, like how we met, when we found out we were in love, and even about our everyday life. They are hard on these, and if they suspect we’re lying, they will interview us separately and ask questions like what’s our favorite color, and other small things like that, to make sure we know each other. I found a list of questions online—not sure if it’s accurate, but we can study those.” I had done extensive research about the green card process in the last few days, simply because I couldn’t stop dreaming. “If they still aren’t sure about us, I heard they can come to family gatherings to see us together, to see how we behave together. If they conclude we’re lying, I’ll be deported and I’ll never be able to come back, not even to visit my family and you … you’ll end up in jail.”

  8

  Tyler

  I stared at her with wide eyes, sure I hadn’t heard her right. “What? Jail?”

  Gabi brushed a loose strand of her hair back and glanced to her feet before returning her gaze to me. “Yeah. Hm, you should be aware of all the consequences of this deal.”

  Shit, this thing kept getting more and more complicated. “Give me a sec,” I muttered as I tried to sort through the thoughts swirling in my head.

  “Sure,” she said.

  Risk going to jail? Was this worth it? I had been convinced that accepting Gabi’s deal was a good solution. My only solution, actually, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  “Just … let me say this,” Gabi said. “If we do our parts well, if we pretend well, if we fool even my family, the immigration officers won’t know. They will believe what we tell them. As long as we do this right.”

  So, when out with witnesses, we had to be kind to each other, sit together, stand side by side, s
mile at each other—there were plenty of couples who didn’t kiss or even touch much in public. We could be one of those—and we had to nail the answers to the interview questions. I could do that, right? For money? For a debt free life? For vet school?

  “All right,” I said, still feeling wary about this, but trying to push through. “And after the interview?”

  “Nothing much. If the interview goes well, I’m given the green card. After that, we need to stay married for two years. Once the two years are up, we get a divorce, which should be quick, and done. We both go our separate ways.”

  That did sound too good to be true. Two years and a couple of months until I was debt free. It sounded like a dream, to be honest.

  The yes was on the tip of my tongue, but I still had to get some things straight. “What about your family?”

  “What about them?”

  “You’ll just get married and they won't be pissed with you about that?”

  She bit her lower lip. “Sim, bem, I kind of thought about that and had an idea.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We can elope today. Right now, if you want. The sooner we get married, the faster this thing will go and the sooner we’ll be able to get a divorce. But you’re right, my family would freak out if I showed up married. So, we can elope today and talk to an immigration lawyer next week and get everything moving, but I think we should lie to my family.”

  “Lie …”

  “Sim, hm, we could tell them that we are engaged and will be moving in together, but we aren't in a rush to get married. They don’t need to know we eloped, and they certainly won’t find out about the green card process unless we tell them about it.”

  “Or if an immigration officer thinks it’s necessary to interview them. Or come to one of our gatherings.”

  “Not if we fool them.” She cringed, as if she didn’t like the idea of fooling anyone. “If we nail the interview questions, if we show them pictures of us together during the next few months leading to the interview, if we post these pictures on social media, they will believe us.” She sighed. “It’s not the most noble thing. I hate having to lie to people like that. I’ll hate lying to the immigration officers, probably not as much as I’ll hate lying to my family, but it’s for a good cause. We won’t be hurting anyone. I’ll be able to follow my dreams, and you’ll get the money you need. No harm done.”

  She was right, of course, but a sham marriage was a hard thing to swallow.

  “Why can’t we tell your family we eloped?”

  Her eyes bulged as if that idea hadn’t even crossed her mind. “My family would freak out. Really, like a full-blown freak out with lots of yelling and disinheritance threats. My parents would fly here and my father would certainly try to drag me back to Brazil by my hair.” She shook her head. “Besides, they know I want to live here. The moment I tell them we are married, they would be onto us. They would know I married you for the green card and … I don’t know what would happen. Just know that it wouldn’t be pretty.” She snorted. “And trust me, when we tell them we’re engaged, they will already freak out. Just not as much.”

  “But won’t your family think you’re engaged to me to get married and get a green card?”

  “Probably, but I have an idea for that.” I stayed quiet and let her continue, “Besides the green card suspicion, they will probably bother us about a wedding date. We can tell them we’re not in a hurry. Some couples get engaged and don’t get married for years. We can pretend to be one of those couples. At first, we can tell them we’re waiting a year or so, so there’s no rush to organize a wedding. And when it gets closer, we postpone it a couple more months. Then, we'll postpone again and again, until the two-year mark is up. Once we’re divorced, we can tell them we broke up. They will never have to know.”

  “But what will happen after? How will you explain suddenly having a green card after the divorce?”

  Shit … I hadn’t thought about that part. “Maybe … my job will be going well and I can lie that the company sponsored a green card for me.”

  Job? She already had a job here? I cocked my head, watching her sad eyes. “You don’t look happy about it.”

  “About the lying part, no, I’m not. I’m close to my family. They mean everything to me, and it’ll be hard to lie to them, but I think it’ll be worth it. And like I said, we won’t be hurting anyone.” She gasped. “Meu Deus, your family. What about your family? Won’t they be pissed at you too?”

  A big frown settled between my brows. “There’s only one person in my family, and I don’t think he’ll care.”

  She mirrored my expression. “Is that a good or bad thing?”

  I shrugged. “It’s neither. Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

  “Okay,” she said, sounding unsure, but she didn’t push it. Instead, she changed subjects. “We should talk about living together …”

  “Yeah, I know. I think you’ll have to move in with me, but …” I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to tell her why I needed the money and my most-of-the-time-absent roommate. Not yet, at least. “My apartment isn’t in the best neighborhood and it’s small and old and messy.” And I hadn’t paid rent in forever and had just received a letter telling me I would be evicted if I didn’t pay for it soon. But, with the money I received from her as soon as we got married, I could pay all the rent I owed and even pay a few months in advance. Or … “What about if we looked for a better apartment in a nicer neighborhood first and then moved in there?”

  She smiled at me and my breath caught. Damn, she was pretty. “That sounds good. Though, we can’t take too long since we’ll already be married.” Her voice caught on the last word. Her smile faded. “So, are you ready?”

  My mind spun. That was a lot to process. Get married? Meeting her family? Lawyer? New apartment … It was too much, too fast. Then, I remembered that one hundred thousand dollars would be hitting my account by this evening, and I could make a lot of things work with that. I could pay my rent. I could pay my utility bills before they were cut off. I could buy some fucking real food and go grocery shopping for real, fill up the tank of my truck for the first time in over a year, and work a little less.

  I sighed, knowing all too well that there was no decision to be made here.

  I stood. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  9

  Gabi

  For a moment there—when I mentioned jail—I was sure Tyler would back out, and I would have to go pick up my suitcase and head to the airport.

  I was surprised when he said yes.

  Meu Deus, I had proposed and the guy had said yes! This was crazy.

  “Okay, hm.” I smoothed my sweaty palms over my jeans. “We need to start moving. We need to dress up and go to the courthouse to get a license and the ceremony done.”

  “Dress up? Ceremony? Aren’t we eloping?”

  “Yes, but we need to show the pictures to the immigration officer when it’s time for our interview. It needs to look like we planned this, not like we were in a rush. So …” I got my iPad from the living room and placed it on the kitchen’s island. “We should check for stores where we can rent a dress and a tux and also what documents we need to bring to the ceremony.” I gasped. “Meu Deus, I’ll need a ring.”

  His face paled. “I don’t … I can’t …”

  I waved him off. “Don’t worry. I won’t ask any of that from you. I’ll rent our clothes, pay for the ceremony fees and pictures, and I’ll buy the ring. We’ll just pretend you got the ring for me.”

  “More pretending,” he muttered.

  “Tyler, for the next two years, pretending will be part of our lives. Try to come to terms with that now, otherwise this will be harder and harder.” I had to come to terms with that too. I had never lied to my family like this, and I still couldn’t believe I was going to do it now.

  He let out a long breath. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s a lot to take in and I’ll need a moment to adjust, but I’m okay. I’m still
in.”

  I nodded once. “Good. Now let’s see where we can find our outfits.”

  We browsed the internet and made a list of where we needed to go and what we would need.

  Tyler left to go find his tux, promising to pick me up here in two hours so we could go to the courthouse together.

  Meu Deus, I would be married in two hours!

  Panic rushed through me, but I pushed it aside. No time to panic now.

  I made a mental list of all the things I needed to do, shut the emotional part of my brain down—I could deal with that part later—and got moving.

  First, I sent a message to my family, telling them I had a surprise for them tonight and wanted everyone at the apartment by six. Of course, everyone texted back asking what it was about. And my answer was: wait and see.

  Next, I researched a local but good immigration lawyer, called the office, and scheduled an appointment for next Tuesday.

  Then, I stopped by a nearby jeweler and looked for an engagement ring.

  In Brazil, it wasn’t customary to get big rings. When a couple got engaged, they bought matching wedding bands and wore them on their right hands until their wedding, then they changed the bands to the left hand. That was it.

  But since my husband-to-be—Meu Deus, that sounded so strange, even in my head—was American, I thought he would follow American traditions.

  I felt lost while browsing. There were small rings with a tiny diamond and huge rings that could give Hannah’s humongous stone a run for its money. But then I remembered Tyler was desperate for money, which meant his financial situation wasn’t good and he couldn’t afford an expensive ring.

  My gaze settled on a ring with two thin white gold bands and one small diamond set between them. The bands connected and turned into one at the bottom. It was modern, simple, and pretty.

  The attendant, who had been asking nonstop which ones I wanted to try on, was happy when I finally told her to get a ring from the display. I tried the ring on and it was a little loose on my finger, but I bought it anyway. After all, I needed a ring for the courthouse and for my family tonight. I looked at the ring on my finger and a shiver slid down my spine. Shit was getting real, and as the hours passed, I was getting nervous about facing my family.