Page 37 of Impending Consent

“She asked if you were in need of a green card, if you were pregnant, or if I committed a crime.” Her brows pinched briefly then she smiled after the reasoning for all processed.

“I think we should start working on the baby then.”

“You’re barely wearing that ring and now you want to have kids with me?”

“If being pregnant means avoiding telling your mother the truth about why we’re married, then yep, put a baby in me.”

“Be careful what you ask for,” I warned. I planned on being in this for the long haul and I was approaching my fortieth birthday. I wouldn’t mind starting a family.

“Did you tell her?”

“That you married me for sex,” I stated smugly.

“That you’re accusing me of marrying you for sex.” The attorney showed up and refused to allow her to admit guilt. However, too late, she already had.

“When I clarified that you used marriage to get sex then used sex to manipulate me into no longer being angry you agreed.”

“I had your dick in my mouth. I’m more than positive I could argue the difference and you did not receive a firm yes from me.”

“We’ll table that for now. I have more pressing matters to deal with.”

She nodded begrudgingly. “I’m going to tell my parents. I just need a plan on how to ease them into accepting this.”

“This or me?” I countered.

“This, the marriage. Not you. They’re not like that. They wouldn’t care about that kind of stuff…”

That kind of stuff meaning whether or not I was worthy of their daughter. I glared and she asserted, “They really don’t. If I’m happy, they’ll be happy.”

“I want to believe the possibility of them accepting me and won’t lean too heavily into my thoughts on the matter, but for now, let’s just deal with where we are.”

“And we are?”

“Two people who bypassed a traditional union but now we need to switch gears a bit.”

“That sounds very ominous.”

I laughed so fucking hard I almost choked on the amusement.

“Ominous is a very specific word, which is not the vibe for what I’m proposing. I only want us to know each other better. More intimately…” Her smile surfaced in a matter of seconds. “Intimate details which don’t include exploring body parts, Sail. Please focus.”

Her eyes traveled over my body. “Oh, I’m very focused.”

When I offered a visual warning to stay on track, she shrugged. “Okay fine, explain.”

“We do a speed round of good old fashioned communication. I’d like to talk.”

The way her expression dropped let me know this was not what she had in mind. I did not care. I needed all the help I could get to learn about my wife and for her to learn about me. Doing so was the only way this was going to work, and I needed us to work, so let the games begin.

Chapter 9

Sailor

"Talk?"

"Yes, talk. You look panicked as hell and you shouldn’t be.”

"I’m sure you’re aware that nowhere in the history of relationships has the phrase we need to talk ever been classified as a situation where one or both parties didn’t need to feel panicked."

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