“And how can we trust that you’re not lying?”
A rough, furious sound rumbled in Henry’s chest. “The same way we will have to trust that when we apply for another government document, it won’t get lost in the maelstrom of chaos masquerading as an online operating system. I suppose it’s an exercise in faith, for both parties.”
Henry stood, lifting me out of the chair and setting me on my feet. I hurriedly wiped my eyes and ran the back of my hand under my dripping nose. His arms never left me.
“You know where we live. You can come and check on us. If she’s still there two days from now, you can arrest us both, I don’t care. I’m prepared to play by your arbitrary rules to ensure that this woman stays with me.”
My legs turned to liquid, and I tightened my grip on Henry to stay upright.
“Are we in accord?” he prompted.
“We’ll be keeping a very close eye on you both,” the detective muttered. “But yes—if you leave the country, her file does state she is able to reapply.”
“Good. I’ll be taking her home now.” Henry’s tone brooked no argument. Keeping one arm around my waist, he dug a business card out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. “If you need to talk further, you talk to me.”
He guided me towards the door, leaning closer as he opened it for me. “Did they confiscate any of your belongings?”
I nodded. My phone had been taken when they brought me in.
His nostrils flared. “I’m so sorry, Catnip. I’ll get this sorted, and we’ll get you home.”
“Okay,” I managed. His hands came up to cup my cheeks, and I lifted my swollen, teary eyes to his face.
“I hate that this frightened you so much,” he whispered, his eyes tortured. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about your visa. I thought …”
“Later,” I told him. “Let’s just get out of here.”
I hung up the phone, the pretence slipping from my face. Fuck, I hated lying to Kat. But there was no way in the world that I was confessing that I had to leave the country until this whole mess was sorted out. I’d already shocked her enough that morning when the police had knocked on the door and she’d learned about my marriage as they arrested me.
The deception was a heavy coating on my tongue, and I longed for a glass of vodka to hopefully burn the guilt out of my mouth. I went to stand, the bar stool making a grinding sound on the floor.
Henry looked up from the bubbling pot of pasta he was stirring on the other side of the kitchen. “Is it later yet?”
“Later than what, exactly?” I asked in confusion.
“Later enough that you’ll allow me to apologise.” His eyes flicked away to the bubbling water. He fished out a piece of spaghetti and bit into it.
“Aren’t you supposed to throw it at the wall to test if it’s ready?” I asked.
He turned back to me, a faint smile twitching. “That’s a complete fallacy. Taste testing is the only way to know. And it’s not ready yet, so …” He crossed the kitchen and leaned on the bench, making that intense eye contact that he seemed to reserve only for me.
“Is it later yet?” he asked again.
My face heated. “I don’t need you to apologise, Henry, I?—”
“ButIneed to apologise. I thought that keeping the information from you until I had everything ready to leave the country with you was protecting you …” He huffed, running a hand through his messy curls. “I shouldn’t have lied to you, Ri.”
“I forgive you,” I said hurriedly, my stomach tightening at the mention of lies. “You were right to keep it from me. I would have just spent the last couple of weeks panicking about it, if I’d known, and … did you say leave the countrywithme?”
Henry’s eyebrow quirked quizzically. “Is that okay?”
O Doamne, it was more than okay. And it shouldn’t be okay.
“I thought, when you were saying that to them in the station, that it was just for the act … you have a business to run, Henry! I’m not?—”
His fingertips slid across my cheekbone and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “Youare.”
I snorted nervously, unable to meet his eyes. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
