Forty Day Fiancé : A Fake Fiancé Romantic Comedy Standalone

by Erin McCarthy

  I laughed. “Seriously? What is your favorite scent?”

  “Chanel No. 5. It reminds me of being a child and climbing all over my mother’s lap while she got ready to go out. It reminds me of trying on her pearls and putting on her lipstick.”

  “Your mother went out frequently?”

  “All the time.” She bit her taco, then licked her finger.

  Even that turned me on. I wasn’t going to survive thirty-four days without being able to take her.

  “My mother went out to lots of lunches and fundraising events,” I said. “It all seemed boring as hell to me as a kid, but now I understand she was actually working damn hard being philanthropic.”

  “Oh, my mother wasn’t charitable. She was a socialite. She loved her parties.”

  “What about you?” I asked her. “Do you love your parties?”

  “Not at all. I left my club days behind in Milan. Being a model there I had VIP access, and I have to admit, that was fun. But when I got back to New York, I was a regular old nobody who had to wait in line. It took some of the thrill out of it.” She eyed me. “Were you one of those frat bros Americans talk about?”

  I nodded. “I was in a frat, yes. Though I wouldn’t call myself a bro, I did like a good keg party back a hundred years ago. There is nothing wrong with that, you know. It’s a rite of passage to party at college. I was the king of beer pong.” While maintaining a four point oh GPA, but I didn’t want to brag.

  “Were you popular with the girls?” she asked, looking amused.

  “Of course,” I said. “I was a fucking catch.” That wasn’t exactly true. I had done all right but I wasn’t taking home a different girl every night. That had never been my style.

  “Modest too. What if they ask me what you studied at uni?”

  “I majored in biology and bio engineering. But they’re not going to want details. Besides, just tell them you were eight when I was in college.”

  She laughed. “That sounds horrid. And truthfully, I was more like six.”

  “Thanks for pointing that out. If you call me daddy again, I can’t promise you I won’t do whatever it takes to make you stop.” Just the thought made me want to push her down onto the couch and distract her with my tongue.

  “Oh, tempting,” she said. “But I will behave. For now.”

  Damn. “That’s disappointing.”

  “I’ll make it up to you later.”

  I really, really hoped so. I squeezed her knee and looked at Felicia. Why did she fascinate me so much? I wasn’t sure, but she had me totally wrapped around her finger.

  “We need to know each other’s toothpaste brands. That has to be in the interview.”

  Michael was wearing flannel pajama pants and a soft T-shirt and looking quite domestic and adorable. It was going to be hell to be snuggling up against his muscular body in bed and not have sex. But I had to keep some kind of boundary in place or I’d fall madly in love and then if it didn’t work out, I’d be both tossed out of the States and devastated with a broken heart. No, thank you.

  “Why would that be in the interview?”

  “Because it was in The Proposal.”

  His eyebrows rose as he came up to the sink next to me. “You think a movie has accurate information on immigration interviews? And I don’t remember that being in The Proposal anyway.” He shook his head. “But fine. This is an easy one. What toothpaste do you use?”

  He picked up my tube. “What is this? Macleans. I’ve never heard of it.”

  I snatched it back. “It’s British. I’m very brand loyal.”

  He’d already lost interest. His hand came up and his finger strolled along the neckline of my nightgown. “I like this.”

  “You need to tell me your toothpaste brand,” I said, determined to keep him on track. And him giving me that look was not helping my resolve to abstain from sex.

  “Crest.” He was totally in my personal space. “Do you wear these silky things every night?” His finger ran down over my nipple and down my abdomen.

  I nodded. “Cotton gets twisted. I can’t stand to sleep in pants either.”

  “This is very sexy.”

  I held my toothbrush up between us, preventing him from kissing me. “Brush your teeth, Michael.”

  He groaned, but he obeyed. “Fine. It has been a long day.”

  It had. I had shifted my entire life in twelve hours.

  We brushed in our separate side-by-side sinks. It felt oddly intimate. I didn’t really know Michael all that well. I didn’t want him to see me spit. Yet we were engaged. The thought made me finish up quickly and go get in the big fluffy bed. It was cold in the room and I snuggled under the thick blankets.

  “That’s my side,” he said when he entered the bedroom. “Scoot over.”

  He actually patted my butt and kind of shoved me across the mattress.

  “What the hell? You could have given me two seconds to move.”

  “This was easier.” He spooned me and sighed as he relaxed.

  I stared at the windows of his bedroom and blinked against the harshness of the overhead chandelier. “You do realize the light is still on.”

  “Shit. Can you turn it off?”

  “No! I was in bed first. The last person in turns out the light. Everyone knows that rule.”

  “But you’re closer to the door.”

  “Because you shoved me over like I was a cat in your bed.” I wasn’t getting up. It was December, it was snowing again, and my feet were cold.

  He made a sound that might have been an agreement or a protest, I couldn’t tell.

  “Michael, turn the light off.”

  I waited, then realized the bastard was asleep. “Seriously?” I asked.

  To which, of course, I got no response. I wasn’t getting up to turn the light off. Hell no. He needed to be trained. It was called fairness. Last one in turned off the light and I would die on that hill, proving that point.

  Or sleep with the light on to prove my point.

  I actually did that. It was a hellish, miserable night of sleep, but I did it. I tossed and turned, but I stubbornly refused to get up and put out the light and finally I settled into a restless sleep with the blanket mostly over my face.

  In the morning, I vaguely heard my alarm going off. I turned it off, and tried to fall back asleep, not even sure why I had set it. Then I remembered why I’d set it. Because I had to commute to Washington Heights now that I was living with Michael. I needed to get ready and take the train, as opposed to stumbling down the hall for coffee and then straight to my computer.

  This officially sucked.

  My alarm went off again.

  I pried my eyes open to find my phone screen and the harshness of the overhead light hit me in the eyes. Right. We’d slept with the lights on.

  As I fumbled around, I actually knocked the phone off the nightstand where it continued to squawk. I ignored it, stiff and groggy.

  “Felicia. Shut that alarm off,” Michael said, sounding sleepy.

  “I can’t. My phone fell on the floor.”

  “So get it off the floor.” He shifted in the bed, rolling over. “Oh my God, why is the light on? What time is it?”

  “It’s five thirty. The light is on because you wouldn’t turn it off last night.”

  “Are you kidding me?” He groaned. “Make it stop. My ears are bleeding.”

  “You get it. That makes about as much sense as me turning the light off when you got in bed last.” The alarm really was irritating but I was stubborn and the air was freezing cold. We needed to talk about the thermostat setting.

  “Fuck.” Michael threw back the covers, burying me in them.

  Even drowning in blankets, I was aware that he flicked the light off. “You turn the light off now? What is even the point?”

  He didn’t answer. I watched him stumble around the foot of the bed and bend over to get my phone. He turned off the alarm, which was a relief, I had to admit. He tossed the phone on the nightstand
carelessly.

  “Be careful, you’ll break my screen.”

  “I’ll buy you a new one.”

  I was about to reprimand him when he climbed back into bed and lay on top of me like I wasn’t even there. “Michael, get off of me!”

  “No. You’re very cozy.” He nuzzled his head into my chest.

  I laughed, shoving at him. “Stop. You’re crushing me. Is this what marriage to you is like, you take the whole bed? This isn’t selling it.”

  “What’s yours is mine.” He gave me a sleepy and ridiculously charming smile. “I like being close to you.”

  “My lungs are collapsing.”

  “Obviously not, because you’re still talking.” But he did roll off of me. “Why are we up so early?”

  “Because I have to get dressed and commute to work now. I want to be there by eight. That’s my normal start time.”

  “You need two and a half hours to get to Washington Heights?”

  “Pretty much. I need a shower, to get dressed, grab coffee, take the train.” I flung the covers off of me. “I’ll see you tonight. By the way, I think we need an app that allows us to turn the heat down at night, but then turns back up at like five in the morning. It’s bloody cold in this room.”

  Michael rolled over and watched me, paying particular attention to my chest. “I can tell.”

  He reached out and touched my taut nipple. I slapped his hand. “Down. Have a good day.” I gave him a kiss, despite being a little concerned about bad breath.

  He tried to take more kisses and to hold me in the bed, but I wiggled free. By the time I got out of the shower, he was sleeping again. So Michael was not a morning person. I made a mental note of that.

  As I stepped outside in the brisk morning air, the street still dark, I shivered beneath my puffer coat. How long until my lease with Javier was up? Five and a half months. I was either going to be back in London by then or I would still be with Michael, in which case I needed an office closer to SoHo. There was nothing fun about being in the cold in the dark, crowded on the train. I was officially spoiled.

  Once I got off the train, I still had a ten-minute walk, so I checked the time. It wasn’t even seven thirty yet. I figured the only one of my friends who might be awake would be Savannah. I shot her a text. You up? Can you chat?

  Sure, just feeding the baby.

  I hit call and put my headphones in my ears.

  “Hi!” she said, sounding very cheerful for so early in the morning. “How are you?”

  “Feeling very pissy and like a straight-up diva. How do people commute every day? It’s freezing and early and my coffee got cold after two stops on the train.”

  “Get coffee when you get off the train. I agree, though. Commuting is not fun. We’re very fortunate.”

  “I’m a recluse, but that’s better than this.”

  “How was your first night living with the good doctor?”

  “We slept with the bedroom light on because we were both too stubborn to get out of bed and turn it off, so we’re off to a rousing start.”

  Savannah laughed. “That is ridiculous.”

  “I realize that.” I buried my hands deeper into my pockets. “I also realize that given half a chance, I might fall in love with Michael.”

  “Isn’t that the point?”

  “No! Of course not, are you mad? If I fall in love with him, I’d be gutted if he dumps me in thirty-four days. Besides, I have a terrible track record picking men.”

  “Welcome to the club. I didn’t pick Maddox so much as he picked me. I was too stupid to see what was right in front of me.”

  “But you knew Maddox was a good man. You’ve known him for years.” Was there anything cuter than a friends-to-lovers scenario?

  “And sometimes its love at first sight.”

  That made me uncomfortable because it implied I was already in love with Michael. “He did not fall in love with me at first sight,” I said, because deflection when you’re already emotional is a wise move. I rolled my eyes at myself.

  “I wasn’t there, so I don’t know. But I do know that he asked you to marry him about a minute later.”

  “Because I’m being thrown out of the country.”

  Savannah believed in love wholeheartedly. I could practically see her waving her hand in dismissal. “Details. He moved you into his apartment. That’s huge. I think you’re going to stick, you and Michael, and I think it’s adorable.”

  “Adorable is not the word I would use. Twisted might be better. I mean, can you imagine telling children this story? Yes, children, Mummy catfished Daddy and then was about to be deported so Daddy proposed. Such a charming story.”

  “Being sarcastic is just a defense mechanism.”

  “I readily admit that. Now, how are you? How is the baby and your tatted and muscular boyfriend?”

  I listened to her chatter away about how happy she was and how Sully had popped out another tooth. It all sounded so lovely and ordinary. I wouldn’t mind having a bit of that for myself.

  “Oh, gotta go,” she said abruptly. “We have a diaper accident.”

  “Sure thing, I’ll chat with you later.”

  After she ended the call, I rounded the corner and saw my building.

  Funny how it looked different first thing in the morning.

  What else was going to look different when I turned a corner?

  Eleven

  “That was your last patient,” Sara, the RN who worked with me, said.

  “Thank God. I need a coffee the size of my head.”

  “You’re really dragging today, Dr. Kincaid,” Sara said. “You’re not getting sick, are you?”

  “He has a new girlfriend,” Kim said, as she sailed down the hallway, a stack of folders in her hand. She gave us a grin. “Late nights, right, Dr. K?”

  It was both true and sadly false. I wasn’t worn out from sex. I was tired from Felicia’s alarm going off at the crack of ass. I wasn’t about to admit that. “I plead the fifth.”

  That only made it worse. They both laughed. “Oh, la, la,” Sara said. “What’s her name?”

  “Felicia.”

  “Do you have a picture?”

  It had to come out sooner or later, so I pulled my phone out of my pocket. I scrolled until I found the photos from the night we’d gotten engaged. We’d taken some selfies. I picked one and turned to show it to Felicia.

  “Wow, she’s beautiful.”

  I had to admit, looking at the picture that one, she was beautiful. Two, I was lucky she was even giving me the time of day. “She is.” I gave Sara and Kim a look. “Before you comment, yes, she is fourteen years younger than me.”

  Kim laughed. “Don’t be paranoid. No one cares about that anymore. Unless it’s a woman dating a younger man.”

  “Sadly, that is true. If either one of you wants to date a younger man, I fully support you in doing so.” I flipped through the pics, trying to find a different one I liked. I really did need to post something online. Felicia had sent me a statement to post but it had read like she wrote it, which she had. I needed something that sounded more genuinely like me.

  “How did you meet?” Kim asked.

  “Hold on!” Sara pointed to my phone. “Is that you proposing?”

  It was and it was super obvious. The whole “down on one knee” was a dead giveaway. I guess there was no point in denying it. “Yes. Last Thursday night. She moved in with me yesterday.”

  They both stared at me in astonishment.

  “You keep things close to the cuff, geez,” Sara said. “I tell you about every single date I go on.”

  “It was quick but when you know, you know.” I shrugged.

  “Well, congratulations,” Sara said. “I’m happy for you. You need some love from a lady.”

  That made me wince. “What the hell, Sara? What does that even mean?” I held up my hand. “Don’t answer that.”

  “This is so exciting,” Kim said, though she sounded skeptical. “Have you set a d
ate?”

  “No, not yet. Or I don’t think so. Felicia is kind of a bulldozer, so for all I know she’s set a date and booked a venue already. I do know she is planning an engagement party before Christmas, so I’ll keep you posted.”

  “Before Christmas? That’s less than three weeks away.”

  “I know. But she and my mother are working together, so I have total confidence they’ll bully it into happening.” I put my phone in my pocket. “I have to head out. I have an appointment. See you tomorrow.”

  They waved and we said our goodbyes. I went to my office to grab my coat. I had to meet Felicia at the lawyer’s office.

  I got there forty minutes later and the receptionist ushered me inside. Felicia was already sitting in front of a large desk. The attorney was around my age and he stood up to shake my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thanks for offering us some advice on how to proceed with a fiancée visa for Felicia.”

  “I’m happy to help.”

  The lawyer’s name was Ken and he had the smooth, calm demeanor of someone who dealt with people in dire straits all day long. “Tell me a little bit about your situation.”

  I looked at Felicia. “You can tell him, sweetheart.”

  She made a face but she said, “I’m British. I have a temporary visa but it’s expiring next month. Michael and I are engaged and we want to apply for a fiancée visa until I can get a permanent spousal visa.”

  “As you’re probably aware, there has been a crack down on visas. So I’m glad you came to me before your visa expires. Once that happens, it’s difficult to backtrack. What type of visa are you on?”

  Felicia crossed and uncrossed her leg. “Well. In the past I’ve been on a student visa and then a temporary work visa. This was a visitor visa with a B1 extension.”

  That was news to me. She lived in New York, had a lease and a business. How long was a visitor visa?

  The lawyer stared at her. “I see.”

  That didn’t sound good. “How do we start the application process?”

  “We can start the process today but be prepared for it to be denied. Felicia has been granted more visas than we generally see and applying for another may raise some red flags.”