Page 108 of Rule 3: Never Fake Marry the Coach's Son
“So you haven’t discussed this?” She blinks.
I swallow hard. God, why didn’t I bring a bottle of water here?
“I mean, Oskar wouldn’t take my name. There are enough Volkovs in the world. They’re not so great. But, um, I could take his name.” My voice rises too much at the end of the sentence, and my heart pounds.
Maybe Oskar will think this is a terrible idea. Maybe I shouldn’t be springing forever and matching last names and potential children to him. Especially since I said our future children would be misbehaved. I mean, is that actually appealing to Oskar? Why didn’t I say that our future children would be little wingless angels or something?
He slides his gaze over to me, and his blue eyes glitter.
“What do you say, Mr. Holberg?” Ms. Santoro asks.
“I think that sounds very nice,” Oskar asks, his voice still clear and steady, he reaches to me and squeezes my knee.
I gaze at my handsome, adorable husband.
God, imagine if we were Mr. And Mr. Holberg.
“Might get confused for brothers,” Ms. Santoro sniffs.
The mood shatters. Oskar withdraws his hand from my knee. The air is cold, the whirl of the air conditioner obviously broken, because why else would Arctic air flood the room. Just leave that air in Siberia.
“We don’t look similar,” I tell Ms. Santoro.
“And you’re not that similar,” she says, and I stiffen.
I didn’t think that statement would be a segue to all the reasons people doubt our relationship.
That so was not my intention.
Ms. Santoro opens a manila folder that Vince definitely did not give her. “You’ve made the news, Mr. Volkov.”
“Unintentionally.”
“Be that as it may, we don’t condone that.”
Vince clears his throat. “Perhaps we can constrain our discussion to normal interview questions?”
Ms. Santoro sniffs. “Yes, you would like that.” She looks at her papers. “In this case, the newspaper articles are highly relevant to this case.” She looks at me. “Most couples who come to me have been in relationships for at least months, most normally years. How long did you date before you decided to get married?”
My throat goes dry. I try to swallow, but my tongue has lost all function. My heart beats unsteadily.
I inhale and smooth my pants. This is fine. Completely fine.
“Oskar and I have been friends for years. Best friend, in fact.”
I smile, but Ms. Santoro does not follow me.
“In other words, you knew that Oskar Holberg might follow your scheme to defraud the US government?”
“Um...”
Vince leans forward. Maybe he’ll say the right thing. “Strictly speaking, they’re not doing anything to defraud the government. Financially speaking.”
Shit.
Maybe I’m not a native English speaker, but even I know that wasn’t a reassuring comment.
Ms. Santoro’ eyes gleam. She’s enjoying her job. And I’m pretty sure she’s not imagining how she’s going to make Oskar and me happy. No way.
