I rose and tossed the dirty towel into the hamper. “First half on our wedding day. The second half the day he gets approved for his green card.”
“Nothing until you exchange vows? Really?” She poured a load of peach syrup over the ice. “He can’t even throw you fifty grand after the first date or something? Maybe after the first good fuck?”
“Kate . . .” I snatched a fresh towel from the pile and lobbed it at the back of her head.
“What? It’s true. Men write their checks with their dicks, not their hands. Remember that.”
“That’s not part of our arrangement. We’ve both agreed on that.”
“Yeah? And how long are you two going to have to be exclusive to make this thing convincing to the federal government?” She poured more half and half than soda water into the cup then gave it a quick stir.
I shrugged. “A few years.”
She popped a lid on and stabbed a straw through it. “And no sex?”
I checked the drive-up windows just to make sure a customer wasn’t waiting. “Nope.”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s expecting sex.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Yes, he is,” she argued before taking a sip of her drink.
“He never said that.” I glanced at the folder. No sex. I’d made sure of it. I’d quadruple-checked.
Kate lifted her eyes to the ceiling again. “No, the million singles said that.”
It did? No, it didn’t. The million said, “Marry me so I can legally get away with committing a crime.”
“Well, I’m not having sex with him.” I crossed my arms.
“Why not? Hell, I’d pay him a million bucks to have sex with him. You know, if I had that kind of money lying around.” Her eyebrow peaked, and she got that far-off look that meant she was having another filthy fantasy right in front of me.
Another towel sailed at her face. “Kate.”
“What?” She chewed the end of her straw. “You know he’s hung like a frickin’ sperm whale.”
Her mentioning that part of his body made me think about that part of his body . . . which made my stomach feel something it shouldn’t. “Eh, no, I do not.” I curled my nose and tried to shudder. Weak attempt on my part. “With those huge hands and feet, he’s probably hung like a hamster.”
Kate huffed. “You are clueless.”
“Yeah, and I’d like to remain clueless when it comes to that part of his anatomy, so scoot. I’ve got a mess of homework to complete.” I waved at the other thick folder and bit my lip. Sure, there were a thousand pages of questions and ample spaces for me to answer, but I’d only need one page to list my whole life story of twenty-three years.
“How far have you gotten?” Before I could run interception, Kate lunged toward the folder and flipped it open. “How far have you not gotten.” She flipped through the mostly empty pages.
“I know. I just . . . get paralyzed every time I try to fill in one stupid question.” I fired a glare at the empty pages like they were the enemy, instead of me and my pathetic existence. “You read through his and it’s like you’re reading the screenplay for some future Academy Award-winning movie, and then you compare what mine would read like . . .” My sneakers squeaked on the weathered linoleum when I shifted. “And it’s like what someone would read if they were trying to put themselves to sleep.”
Kate flipped through the first couple of pages of Bible of Max before turning to face me. “So what? So you haven’t scaled the Eiffel Tower with your toes. Or made enough money to support a small country. You have your own story that’s just as impressive.”
Both of my eyebrows hit my hairline. “I’m a twenty-three-year-old with a high school degree who walks dogs by day, works an all-night coffee stand frequented by felons, and in my ‘free time,’ I take photos that don’t sell.” I lifted my arms at my side and did a slow spin. “I’m single, swimming in an ocean of bills, and about to lose my grandma’s house.”
Kate set her drink on the counter and gave my arm a squeeze. “It’s your house, Nina.”
“It will always be Grandma’s house.” I kicked at the linoleum.
“You know I hate it when you get all defeatist on me.” Kate grabbed a pen from the counter and lowered it to the first question on the first page. The part about family. “‘I gave up my dreams to take care of a person I loved.’ Edit that.” She lifted her index finger. “You temporarily put your dreams on hold to take care of a person you loved. How is that any less impressive than all of this?” She shook Max’s pages. “Making money, scratching goals off some checklist, winning awards . . . who gives a shit? At the end of the day, we all want what you’ve got, Nina Burton—a big heart that doesn’t possess a single selfish beat.”
I always got uncomfortable when she painted me as some modern-day urban Mother Teresa, so I dodged the topic. “Family.” I stabbed my finger at the first thing listed. “Grandma. That’s all I’ve got to fill in. Mom would be a lie, Dad would be a guess, and brothers and sisters? Probably, but god knows I never have and never will meet them.”
Kate lifted the pen and thumped the end against my forehead. “You had the real deal with your grandma. Most people never get that. Not once. Having one person who loves you and can back that up is worth more than a million who claim to love you but come up short when put to the test.”