Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“I’m Charlotte Spencer, and this is Colin Walsh. Gordon Price requested a meeting with us?”
We’d toyed with the idea of introducing ourselves as Mr. and Mrs. Walsh to present a united front, but doing so at a hotel in a tiny town in Hudson Valley is one thing. Doing it in a government office is another thing entirely. A two-second glance at my ID would give me away as Charlotte Spencer.
Oh, and yes, our IDs with the new, shared address arrived in time. Granted, if they look too closely at the issue date, we’re in for a whole slew of questions, but it’s a hell of a lot better than me having to show a California driver’s license.
“Okay, you’re all checked in,” the receptionist says, handing us back our IDs. “You’re a few minutes early, so Mr. Price will be with you closer to your two o’clock appointment time.”
The waiting room is empty except for us. “Ooh, new Vogue,” I say, picking up the magazine.
Colin glances at it distractedly. “Don’t we have that exact same magazine on our coffee table?”
“Yes, and I haven’t had a chance to read it yet. It’s been a busy week,” I tell him pointedly, without looking his way.
He says nothing because he knows exactly how busy my week’s been since his has been the same. Flash card trivia over coffee in the mornings as we memorized favorite foods and learned prominent childhood memories. Lunch breaks where we reviewed names of key colleagues and career-defining moments.
And over dinner, we’d defined our … um, love story. The moment we met. First impressions. How nervous we were on our wedding day.
Most of it true, but not all of it. A couple of things had to be fudged. The first kiss. The moment we realized we’d fallen for the other person.
The fake answer on that last one for me? Christmas dinner when I was twenty. In this version of our history, I’d watched as Colin patiently cut up my arthritic aunt’s prime rib. And to be clear, that moment actually happened, and I do remember thinking it was sweet. But at twenty, those aren’t exactly the things that make a girl’s heart skip a beat. At least not the shallow twenty-year-old that I was.
They are the sorts of things that make a thirty-one-year-old woman’s heart skip a beat in retrospect, but that’s a whole other situation for me to deal with later.
As far as when Colin “fell for me,” it was the first moment he saw me. I was wearing short jean shorts, an off-the-shoulder black T-shirt showing a pink bra strap, and he’d been a goner. Allegedly.
Now, as annoyed as I’ve been with my brother on the whole prenup mess, I will give him credit where it’s due. Back when Colin and I went through the interview process the first time, Justin had insisted that we not only write down all of our interview questions and answers verbatim, but that we keep them in case we ever got asked the same questions again and needed to be able to ensure our answers lined up with what we said on the record back then.
His foresight saved our asses and might be enough for me to forgive him for the prenup sneakiness. Maybe.
Eventually.
Vogue is open in my lap, but for all my enthusiasm, I don’t really see a single photo, much less read a single word. My gaze flits to my right, toward Colin as he reads something on his phone. Should I reach for his hand?
I should. It would be more convincing that we’re in love if we’re holding hands.
Or will that look like we’re trying too hard?
But if we don’t try at all, will they suspect? Maybe if I just casually rest my hand on his leg …
“Charlotte Spencer and Colin Walsh?” We both jerk to attention and jump to our feet. Vogue hits the table with a loud smack.
“Hi, there. I’m Gordon Price, come on back.”
Gordon Price looks pretty much like you’d expect him to look. Medium height, medium build. His hair is medium brown; his blue checked shirt is tucked just a little too tight into navy slacks that are just a little too high.
The office is technically the same as when we came the first time ten years ago, but I don’t recognize any of it. I’m not sure if that’s because they’ve given it a facelift or because I was blinded by terror. Except I don’t remember being blinded by terror. It’s like I told Colin, back then I’d been a little jittery but not petrified like I am now.
Colin’s right. Age and wisdom are a bitch. At twenty-one, it hadn’t really occurred to me that anything in my life wouldn’t work out the way I wanted it to. Now, I’m not even close to being confident of this going our way.