preston
There’s nowten days left on Mia’s visa. It also marks the firstand lasttime I lied to her. I told her we got an extension.
The truth is Liam’s lawyers did their magic. I’m a free man,andMia can stay in the States for good. As much as I wanted the marriage-based green card, she deserves residency that stands in her own name. She might say I’m in a hurry, but I’m only matching the speed of my pulse when she walks into a room.
Mia is the first choice I’ve made becauseIwanted it. I’ve lived a long life of honor and duty, of doing what I believed was right, not what I genuinely wanted.
And now? Now I want what’s mine to want: Mia.
She restores the part of me that forgot how to smile. She’s the hand that steadies the tremor I didn’t admit I had. Mia is proof that life is meant for more.
I crave the pleasure and pride of calling hermy wife. Of seeingmy ringon her finger. And fuck, what aring that is. She’ll be walking around crooked to the left. Hopefully, a little smug too.
I made plans. Outrageous ones. Needed the whole team involved. Callie is so hyped she’s carrying an inhaler now. April’s coordinating everything in a way she’d make Mia proud. Liam stepped up as father of the bride—sat me down, held the green card papers hostage, and wouldn’t hand them over until I’d heard him out. Threats to my life and all.
Lily’s in the dark. I won’t ask my kid to keep secrets. She’ll hear it all on the day.
I’ll take Mia to the federal office downtown, and they’ll wait at the building across from it. Balloons, champagne, confetti. Because there’s no wrong choice, no wrong answer. Of course I want her to be my wife, but she’s already what really matters.
My rebirth. My love. Mine.
* * *
It’s a school day, so Liam covers drop-off since Mia thinks her immigration appointment is at eight-thirty. While she’s upstairs getting ready, I loop Lily in and hand her a bouquet by the door, ‘just in case’ Mia says yes. Lily could rocket through the ceiling; instead, she climbs Uncle Liam, and they do a victory lap around the limousine he rented. He lets me know he also booked a presidential suite for us. Unnecessary, but I thank him anyway. He’s done so much for us already.
I park a block from the building, and we walk the rest of the way. She’s bracing for the interview, rehearsinganswers. If only she knew the question that matters most isn’t on their clipboard, it’s sitting in my pocket.
Across the street, our friends are lying low in a coffee shop window, half-crouched behind the counter. April’s palm is clamped over Callie’s mouth while they both jump in place.
Mia looks up at the building we’re about to go in and whispers, “This is it.”
I echo the same words in my mind.
A horn bleats. Her breath fogs. I take her hand in mine.
“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.”
