“Baby, we’re not going in for an interview. There’s no extension. Yourpermanent residencywas approved. That’s what we're going upstairs to collect.”
Her face scrunches up before she can manage a “What?”
“They’re waiting to stamp your passport. Immigration’s done.”
“How?” Her face still hasn’t rearranged back to normal.
“I’ve fallen for you first. And been waiting for you to take the fall too. I knew you’d meet me, but I kept myself busy while I waited. I needed you to stay. And I wanted to offer you a path that wasn’t tied to me. I wanted to give you time. And space. You know, in case we weren’t”—I step closer—“here. At the end of your three months.”
God, how I treasure her trust. I wrap my hands around her waist and lean back so we can keep our eyes locked.
“So I asked Liam for help. Well, his lawyers. And you sort of helped, signing it all off, unaware of what exactly that was. I apologize for that. I swear, I just wanted you to have the option. We don’t even have to go upstairs if you don’t agree with this.”
Mia puts her hands on my shoulders. I’m not sure whether to steady herself or keep me at a distance.
“Preston Jett, start explaining yourself now, and fast.”
I scramble to string sentences together. “Of course.Ahem. So. Weeks ago, you signed a stack of forms Liam gave you and rushed you to get your biometrics done.” I tip my head. “Remember?”
Her eyes narrow. “Yes.” Pause. “He was in a hurry, I didn’t have time to read it all, and well… I trusted him. Something about new rules for Brits on tourist visas. Fucking Liam. What did I sign?”
“Liam’s lawyers filed an independent residency case. It was approved this morning. We go upstairs, they stamp your passport, and the green card comes by mail. This gives you permanent residency in the States. You’ll be here on your own footing.”
Mia blinks as if malfunctioning.
“But…” I start.
“There’smore?” She stumbles back, but thankfully, my grip on her is firm.
I breathe, steadying us both. “Truth is, I wish there was an equally fast green card for a bride.” Her head inches back. “There isn’t. Not even Liam’s lawyers can pull that trick from a hat. We’d have to marry first, then file. That’s why I set an NIW in motion.” I wince, half-smiling. “I’m embarrassed to tell you exactly when I asked Liam to help.”
The spark is back in her eyes. “Now youhaveto tell me.”
“Ask me again on our one-year anniversary.”
She’s steady enough, so I take her hands again. “But, Mia, that won’t stop me from asking for what I want.”
I drop to one knee.
Concrete bites through my slacks. The street goes soft at the edges—horns silence, footsteps blur—until it’s only her.
“Pres…” she says in a gasp, but I can’t stop now. I pull a black velvet box from my jacket pocket.
“Make me the happiest, luckiest man on this miserable yet miraculous planet, Mia.” Her eyes water before I finish the sentence. “Can you call it rushing when it’s inevitable? Because that’s where we’re headed. That’s whatwe are.” My voice breaks, and I let it. “You are what I want, Mia. Today, and every day after. If this is too fast, we do it your way. But if you’ll have me”—I lift the box between us—“say yes.”
A single tear slips down her cheek, and my knee wobbles. I don’t dare read her.
I’m here to give her choices, I remind myself.
“There’s no wrong answer, Mia,” I say, steadying my voice. “If you don’t have that three-letter word in you today, it doesn’t touch what we have. If you’re not ready, this goes back in my nightstand and waits there, happily, until you are. We move together, always, at your pace. I’ll ask you to marry me a hundred times, baby. I’ll wait.”
Her mouth curves—small at first, then wider—until she huffs a sound I take as a laugh.
“Would you open that box for me?” Her hands tremble; tears spilling faster now. They threaten her makeup, but the soft lines of black mascara down her cheeks make everything feel more real. “I’m afraid I might drop it and ruin the moment.”
“Are you saying ‘yes’?”
“If we’re inevitable, is there another answer?”
