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)
He doesn’t smile back, but I feel his thoughtful gaze on my back as I turn and head to the bedroom.
Chapter 37
Thursday, November 5
Colin’s gone the next morning before I wake up. I don’t see him until he comes home around two so we can share a cab to the Immigration Services office, but we don’t exchange a single word on the way there.
I don’t know if it’s because of the awkwardness of last night, because of the stress of the meeting to come, or if we’re simply too lost in our own thoughts. A little bit of everything, probably.
A different woman checks us in this time. She’s a lot less smiley than the last one, which I find oddly comforting. Her somber vibe suits my mood, and it suits this day.
“Who do you think will be first?” I ask Colin. I feel too jittery to read Vogue or any of the other glossy magazines this time.
“If it goes anything like last time, I’m hoping me,” he says.
“Why’s that?”
“I’m imagining you’ve got a hell of a grand finale up your sleeve.”
Oh, soon-to-be-ex-husband. You have no idea.
“Well, regardless of who goes first,” I say, “do you mind if I jet right after? I’ve got a couple of work things to take care of.”
Colin looks down, confused and maybe a little hurt. “Yeah. Sure.”
I know he wants to know why I’m not my usual upbeat self, but I don’t have an answer for him. Not one I want to share, anyway.
“Ms. Spencer. Mr. Walsh. It’s good to see you again,” Gordon Price says, opening the door. He’s holding a manila folder, and I don’t consider myself a fashionista or anything, but the fact that the folder matches his tan suit almost exactly is … unfortunate.
“Ms. Spencer, we’ll start with you. Come on back. Mr. Walsh, this should only take about twenty minutes or so.”
“Sure.”
I give Colin what I hope is a reassuring smile and follow Price down the fluorescent-lit hallway that I’m really hoping I’ll never have to see again after today.
He shows me into the same office. I sit in the same chair.
“Ms. Spencer, thanks for coming in. How are things?”
“Actually, not great.”
“That’s good—” He breaks off and looks up from the open folder, realizing his mistake.
I smile to put him at ease. “Let me guess. Most people say fine?”
He laughs. “Actually, yeah.”
“They’re probably terrified to let you think anything in their marriage is less than perfect.”
He closes the folder and tosses it aside, giving me a thoughtful look. “You do not share that fear.”
“Obviously not,” I say with a rueful smile. “I told you the first time we met that my husband had been seeing another woman.”
“Yes. And that you two were trying to work through it.”
“We were. But Mr. Price, can I be blunt?”
“Of course.”
I take a deep breath. “Half of all marriages end in divorce. People drift apart. Cheat. Want different things. Couples in which one person is born in another country aren’t exempt from any of that.”
He nods slowly. “Go on.”
“Colin and I have gotten closer since I’ve moved back from California. We’ve made significant progress. We’ve been kind to each other, respected each other, but Mr. Price, this is the part where I need to be frank … no amount of trying is going to make my husband love me again.”
The addition of “again” is a tiny white lie, but I press forward.
“Our current situation has nothing to do with the fact that Colin’s from Ireland. This is about emotion, not citizenship. And the brutal truth is that my husband loves someone else. And I can’t change that, no matter how much I might want to.”
Mr. Price blows out a long breath. “Ms. Spencer, your candor is noted, but I’m not entirely sure what it is you think I can do with that information.”
“Nothing,” I clarify quickly. “Nothing at all. But I wouldn’t feel good leaving here today without telling you the truth: my husband and I plan to get divorced. Soon.”
Price picks up his folder again and flips through it absently without really reading it. “This is … unusual.”
“I know, but I’ve been thinking through this whole process. Back when we got married, we went through these same types of interviews. The aim then, and I think now, is to prove that it was a marriage based on love, not the acquisition of a green card? Correct?”
He nods. “Yes. We want to ensure that a couple is married for the right reason.”
I take a deep breath, ready to deliver my grand finale, as Colin had put it.
I lean forward. “I know I said that Colin doesn’t love me, and I meant that. I can’t change that fact, and trust me, I have tried. But Mr. Price, if you want to know if this is a love match, I can tell you at least that I love my husband. I love Colin.” I reach down and take a document out of my bag. “And I can prove it.”