Page 201 of The Winslow Brothers

“Flynn?”

“A couple barks short of a tail wag?”

My cheeks warm as I suck my lips inside my mouth before popping them back out. “Of everything I said, that’s the part you heard?”

“I heard the rest. That was just the part that interested me.”

“The fact that it’s going to be at least a week before I can move out there doesn’t concern you?”

“I can assume from your tone that this isn’t the answer you’re looking for, but no, it doesn’t,” he answers matter-of-factly. “We’ve both sent USCIS everything they need for the application. From where I stand, everything that needs to be done is getting done, and I don’t see a problem with it taking a week for you to move out here.”

“Okayyy…but wouldn’t you say it’s a bit of a problem for showing proof of our marriage?”

“I think they’ll understand there’s a transition period, babe. Lives take time to shift.”

“And, what? We just don’t talk to each other all that time to make the anticipation grow stronger?” I retort. “That’s sketchy as hell, Flynn. It’s going to toss up all the red flags for the immigration overlords and make them suspicious of us. Of me. We’re going to have to think of other things to do to show we’re together andwantto be together.”

“I’m a reasonable guy, Daisy, and I made an agreement with you. All you need to do is tell me what you think we should be doing, and I’ll do it.”

When I picture him standing there, most likely in his apartment in New York, holding a phone to his ear and having a conversation with me I can almost guarantee he’d rather not be having, plus the FaceTime call in his towel and everything else he’s done for me up until now, I know that’s true. Flynn Winslow has an irrefutable track record of keeping his word to me.

“I think…” I pause and, for some reason, find myself fumbling over my words. It makes zero sense, but I can only chalk it up to already feeling like I’m asking him for far too much. “We…uh…need to show proof of our relationship through other ways. Like…text messages…phone calls…you know, that sort of thing. And also, probably delete any damning evidence of contractual indifference from our previous conversations…”

“Okay.”

One word. Just like that, and he’s already agreed. Call me a sadist, but this feels too easy.

“Are you…uh…sure?”

“Daisy.”

Right. This is good. Great, even.

My need to get the ball rolling as soon as possible is too strong to deny. The call switched over to speaker, I pull up our text chat and type out a message—How was your day, hubby?

Once I hit send, I say, “Okay. Check your text messages.”

“My day was fine,” he responds, and laughter barrels from my belly and straight past my lips.

“Flynn!” I giggle. “You’re supposed to text me your answer back. You know…forevidentiary support.”

“Right. I just have one question.”

“Of course! Go ahead!” I respond, kind of excited to be able to feel useful for once.

“Will Bruiser Woods be partaking in these conversations too, or is Elle the only split personality of yours I need to be on the lookout for?”

“Flynn!” I shriek, both tickled by his highly unexpected knowledge of all thingsLegally Blondeand slightly embarrassed by his teasing.

“Don’t you think it’s important that we show proof through text messages, too?” I ask him once my laughter subsides. “Phone calls are great—I mean, it will show Immigration that we stay in constant contact, but they won’t be able to see what’s said in our phone conversations. And in order to really sell it, I think they need to see the text conversations. Don’t you?”

“They need to see text conversations or fake textconversationsshowing we’re in love and shit?”

“Um, the latter.”

“But you want us to be on the phone, too?”

“Yes,” I answer.

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