“Oh my God, that’s from Immigration.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“That’s from Immigration, Flynn!” she repeats, this time much more manically.
“Yeah, I know. I saw the address,” I reply calmly.
“What does it say?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t open it.”
“You didn’t open it?” she nearly shrieks, making a couple of the regulars look our direction. But I don’t give a shit who’s watching us, so I don’t pay them any mind.
“Daisy.”
“Okay, you said that, but why? Why didn’t you open it?”
“Why don’t you just open it now?” I suggest instead of answering.
She nods then, grabbing the envelope and ripping into it without much finesse. The envelope is practically shredded, and I lean down to pick up a stray piece of it that’s fluttered to the floor.
By the time I straighten back up in my seat, Daisy is fully engrossed in the letter and chanting the phrase, “Oh my God,” over and over again under her breath.
I raise my eyebrows in question, and she says it again, extending the last word like some sort of prayer. “Oh my Gooood, Flynn! They want to do the interview in less than a month! Holy shit, they want to do the interview May 31st!”
May 31st. The day of Jude and Sophie’s wedding.
Daisy’s eyes have turned wild and crazy as she frantically glances between me and the letter in her hands. “Geez Louise, what are we going to do?”
“Go to the interview?”
“Flynn, they said three months, and that’s only like a month and a half! They must know!”
My eyebrows draw together. “Know what?”
“About us! About the sham! That I’m a big fat phony who needs to get deported!”
“Daisy, relax.” I reach out to place my hand over hers. “They don’t know anything. You’re Canadian. You’re, like, the most nonthreatening type of immigrant. They’re probably just ready to push your stuff through.”
“I just can’t believe it’s that soon,” she says, her voice despondent in a way I’m not entirely sure I understand. This is good news. The sooner they do the interview, the sooner we know there’s no chance Daisy’s going to get forced to leave.
“When you get home tonight, I promise to fuck all the anxiety about it right out of you,” I respond cheekily and squeeze her fingers.
Her smile is genuine but doesn’t quite meet her eyes.
“I have to get fitted for a bridesmaid dress tonight with Winnie and Sophie.”
“After, then,” I promise, wanting desperately to see the excitement her little question-game had brought to her beautiful face before she got freaked out by the USCIS letter.
She nods, and her smile lights up her whole face, including her eyes. “After.”
I may be a creature of habit, but a lot sure has changed in the last month. Most of all, I’m beginning to think there isn’t any length I wouldn’t go to to see Daisy smile.
Daisy
I shove inside the dress shop from the bustling city, and I immediately take a breath as the noise settles. It’s not that LA isn’t packed full of people—it is—but I’m used to having the buffer of my car. Don’t want to speak to someone? Roll up your window and gas it. Here in New York, I feel a little like I’m volunteering as tribute for the Hunger Games every time I step out onto the sidewalk.
I spot Winnie immediately, perusing a rack of dresses in the center of the store, and make my way over to her. Just as I arrive, a young blonde steps out from behind the rack and moves to join us.
“Hi, Daisy!” Winnie greets excitedly, pulling me into a big hug before stepping back.
“Hi, hi!” I greet back with a pathetically awkward wave. I’ve been a little off-kilter since finding out that my immigration interview is scheduled for the morning of Sophie’s wedding, but I need to shake it off, for Pete’s sake. Trying on dresses is supposed to be fun, and I refuse to be the cloud of doom.
“You remember my daughter, Lexi?” Winnie asks, holding out a sweeping hand to the absolutely gorgeous girl in question.
“Oh, of course, Lexi. It’s so nice to formally meet you. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to talk with you more at family dinner.”
“That’s all right. Logistically speaking, it’s pretty hard to carry on a conversation when people are shouting at above one hundred decibels anyway.”
When Winnie laughs, I figure it’s safe to unleash my smile. “There were a lot of people yelling, weren’t there?”
“Yeah. They all thought Uncle Flynn would grow old and die alone. So, a wife was a shock.”
I laugh then; I can’t not. Surprisingly, it seems like the perfect time to let in a little tiny nugget of the truth. “To be honest, it was a jolt to me too.”
Winnie and Lexi both laugh at that, and I take the moment to glance around the bridal shop in search of the third member of our party. “Where’s Sophie? Is she not here yet?”
Winnie rolls her eyes good-naturedly and laughs. “Oh no, she’s here. She’s in the back. Every time we come here, no matter the reason, she can’t leave without trying on her dress too.”
“Oh, great! I’d actually love to see it.”
Lexi snorts. “That’s exactly what she said you’d say.”
“Well, she was right,” I confirm. Plus, anything that delays the inevitable of me getting fitted for a dress I’m not even entirely sure I’m going to get the chance to wear is okay in my book.
Does Flynn even realize the interview is the same day as his brother’s wedding?
When we found out about the appointment at lunch this afternoon, he was encouraging, his usual calming force to my emotional nerves, but I don’t know if he put two and two together. I mean, once the interview is done, he’ll be released from his obligation. I’m sure I’ll have to do some things with Immigration on and off as I seek citizenship, but once USCIS declares us legitimate, I’m allowed time in the country to sort my status even if Flynn and I break up. I know, because on a painfully pathetic day while having lunch at my desk to avoid Tara and the rest of the people in the office, I looked it up.
Winnie seems oblivious to my mental wandering, thankfully, as she and Lexi chat about different shoe options for the wedding. Lexi insists that flats are the most practical of all the options, but Winnie contests that then her butt won’t look as good.
Evidently a fan of practicality over fashion, Lexi rolls her eyes.
“Well?” Sophie announces suddenly, popping out from behind the back wall in a gorgeous top-beaded satin gown that pools around her feet beautifully. Not very many people in this world could pull off that dress, but Sophie does it in spades.
“Wow, Sophie. You look stunning.”
“Yeah. I’d say Uncle Jude is statistically likely to get an erection when he sees you.”
“Lexi!” Winnie snaps while I choke on saliva and Sophie dissolves into a fit of laughter. “Oh my God, what in the world?”
Lexi shrugs. “Men average eleven erections a day. With the sex appeal of Sophie’s wedding dress, it’s highly likely one of those will happen when he sees her.”