Billionaire Romance Boxed Set 2(50)

Ever.

Strangely, the thought didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

As much as I’d like to say I was productive for those first few days as Daniel’s stay-at-home wife, I spent most of it wandering around aimlessly, watching terrible daytime T.V. and trying to acquaint myself with the place. I unpacked some boxes, and shopped around for art studio supplies online - an easel, maybe? A new desk? A nice chair? I could spend as much as I wanted, and somehow that was more intimidating than liberating. On the third day, when Daniel got home from work, I realized I’d spent the last two hours clicking around the website for one five-hundred-dollar working stool.

He kissed me chastely on the forehead when he walked in, as he always did. We hadn’t made love again since coming home, and I hadn’t pressed the issue.

“I’m having trouble deciding what to get for my studio,” I said.

“Get it all,” he said, smiling, just before he stuck his head in the fridge.

“I think we might have a space issue.” I walked into the kitchen. “So, how was your day?”

“Fine.” He came up for air with a carton of orange juice. “I submitted some forms to the government today, so there’s a chance we’ll be called for an interview in the next few weeks. Remember what we talked about?”#p#分页标题#e#

It felt like a thousand years had passed since then. “Yeah,” I said. “I think so. Maybe we should go over some of the details later.”

“Of course.” He was pouring himself a glass. “I’m not worried. And you shouldn’t be either. We’ll do just fine.”

“Sure,” I said. “It’s nerve-wracking, though.” Not to mention, it was the first time we’d talked about the nature of our arrangement since the honeymoon, and I suppose I wasn’t quite prepared for it.

“Well, just try not to think about it for now,” he said. “No use borrowing trouble.”

“Why’d you bring it up, then?”

“Sorry,” he said, grinning. “Greek for dinner?”

“Sure.” I sat down on a stool at the breakfast bar. “One of these days I’m going to cook some real food for us.”

“Why bother? We’ve got some of the best restaurants in the country within a twenty-mile radius.” He made a dismissive hand gesture as he opened his phone.

“Well, at least it would give me something to do,” I muttered.

He set the phone down on the counter and came over to me. “Anything you want to do, you can do it,” he said. “You have your car. You have my credit card. Do whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what I want.”

It was true, in more ways than one.

Wisely, he walked away and left me to think. I didn’t really want to think, but it was better than trying to talk about it.

I successfully pushed thoughts of the interview into the back of my mind, and the next day I ordered an easel and a light table. Before long, I had actually set up a studio in the larger of the two spare rooms. We got rid of the bed and superfluous furniture, and the place was roomier than I expected it to be. With the curtains open, the windows even let in a nice amount of natural light.

I started drawing in charcoal again. Slowly, at first, because it had been a while. But before long I had a few rough sketches, and one pretty good drawing of my childhood home. I’d always done still life, mostly. I never liked the challenge of trying to capture the nuance in people’s faces.

I came to bed every night when Daniel turned in, but he never touched me beyond a peck on the lips. I wasn’t sure if I expected it to change, but I suppose I thought it was worth the shot.

He got the call from the INS a few weeks later.

After he told me, I spent a long time pacing. There was no more drawing in the cards for me. I read everything I could find on the internet about surviving marriage fraud interviews. But none of the write-ups were particularly encouraging, because every single one of them warned me that if I had a sham marriage, there was absolutely no chance I’d be able to convince the INS otherwise.

Well, they probably just said that for legal reasons.

I hoped.

It took some jumping through hoops to actually schedule the appointment for a time when Daniel could get away from work, but when we finally did, it was a full month away. I didn’t know how I was going to survive the anticipation.

I spent a lot more time researching and a lot more time pacing. Daniel pulled out his tiny notebook and we went over everything again, and again and again. He kept telling me that the most important thing was to sound honest and unrehearsed, but I was absolutely sure I was going to make some horribly obvious mistake and ruin everything.