Breaking Down (The Breaking Series Book 4) Read online

  To top it off, she invited me to another freaking party tonight. What did these people do? Party every night? What the hell?

  Shit, this was getting complicated.

  Groaning, I parked my truck in the hospital’s parking lot and sat back.

  What the fuck had I done? This entire situation was ridiculous.

  Debt free, debt free.

  It was all I could do not to turn around and ask Gabi to annul this insane marriage.

  Debt free, debt free.

  With a sigh, I climbed out of my truck and entered the hospital.

  The lady at reception nodded at me as I walked past her. Then, I crossed paths with two nurses I saw often and they nodded at me too.

  I knew every doctor and nurse and technician who worked on this floor of the hospital—a fact that I hated. A fact that stated things were going from bad to worse.

  I paused at the room's door, trying to find the words I would say, but nothing came. For once, my mind was blank. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to think too much about this all.

  After a soft knock, I stepped into the room.

  My father smiled at me from the bed in the middle of the room. “Hey, you. I didn’t expect to see you until tomorrow morning.” He pointed the remote to the TV and lowered the volume. “Everything okay?”

  He looked better than usual—a little less pale, a little less tired—which was a relief.

  I walked up to his bed. “I should ask you that. How are you feeling?”

  “Today is one of the good days,” he replied.

  A rare one, then.

  “That’s good,” I said, taking the big armchair beside the bed.

  He smiled at me. “So, what’s new with you?”

  I paused, considering what to tell him. “Hm, I’m planning on moving to a better apartment.”

  His smile was gone. “But … why? I mean, our current place stinks, but we can’t afford paying rent for a better apartment. Our financial situation is bad, isn’t it? We can’t afford that, Tyler.”

  I sighed. Until yesterday, our financial situation was even worse than he imagined. He had no idea I couldn’t even afford rent anymore. But now things would change. Come Monday, I would pay a lot of our bills and things would start looking up.

  I reached over and rested my hand on his arm. “We can, Dad. This time, we can.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just … trust me, okay.”

  “Tyler, you’re not doing anything illegal, right? You’re not … playing poker or selling drugs or working for some mafia boss or—”

  I chuckled. “No, Dad, nothing illegal.” Not totally illegal. After all, I was married to Gabi. That part wasn’t illegal. “Don’t worry about it. Just worry about getting better, okay?”

  He stared at me as if trying to see through my eyes. I must have looked trustworthy because he nodded. “Okay.”

  18

  Gabi

  I didn’t see Tyler on Sunday, though I went out again in the afternoon, lying to my family I was meeting Tyler somewhere. I walked around the neighborhood, feeling as if I was hiding a bomb inside my purse that could explode at any moment.

  On Monday, he sent me a text letting me know which apartment he had liked the best. Again, when I left Gui’s place to meet with the real estate agent, I lied I was meeting Tyler instead. That afternoon, I signed the papers for the apartment, and to make sure Tyler didn’t bother me about rent at all, I paid a full year in advance. There, now he wouldn’t be able to argue about it.

  Then, on Tuesday, Tyler picked me up at 9:15, as agreed, and drove us to the immigration lawyer’s office. There, the secretary told us to sit down in the waiting area until someone came to get us.

  I took a spot on a loveseat and Tyler sat in an armchair, not too far, but not close to me either. He stared at the news show on the TV and didn’t utter a word the entire twenty minutes we waited. In fact, I realized that besides the “good morning” when I entered his truck earlier, he hadn’t spoken a single word to me yet.

  I was about to ask him what was going on when a tall woman with black hair pulled in to a tight bun stepped into the waiting area.

  “You two must be Tyler Reid and Gabriela Fernandes. I’m Anita Wyatt, nice to meet you.”

  After greeting her, Tyler and I followed the lawyer back to her elegant office. She stopped at the door and offered us water or coffee. When we declined, she closed the door and took the seat behind her desk.

  “So, what can I do for you?” she asked, clasping her hand together over her desk.

  “Well,” I started. In a couple of minutes, I told her about our wedding last week and when I started telling her about how we met, she interrupted us.

  “I can smell a fake wedding a mile away,” she said, making me cringe. Tyler, finally, showed some emotion. He straightened in his chair with a big frown between his brows.

  Actually, I had no dreams we could trick the lawyer. I was hoping she would help us trick the government, as bad as it sounded.

  “I can explain.” I told her about our situation, about why we decided to get married and why I wanted a green card—to play polo here. At that, Tyler looked at me from the corner of his eyes. I guess we hadn’t talked about that yet, had we?

  Like Tyler and I, the attorney didn’t think we were harming anyone, though she had one condition. She didn’t want us tricking the government any further, which meant, she wouldn’t let us fabricate a history with photoshopped pictures of us together from before our wedding date, or fake older messages and emails. She explained to us the consequences if we were found out by the government—deportation for me and jail for Tyler.

  “That’s an exaggeration, of course,” Anita said. “I think I only saw one man go to jail for a marriage-based green card before, but that was because he was marrying the daughter of a powerful international criminal. Her father had plans to smuggle weapons and drugs into the country through her. Most of the time, there’s a hefty fine.”

  Tyler’s jaw popped at that. I knew he didn’t want to go to jail—no one wanted to—and money was already a problem for him. He couldn’t have yet more debt.

  I turned to him. “It’s okay if you want to give up,” I said in a low voice. I knew the lawyer still could hear me, but speaking in hushed tones made me feel a little less awkward. “We can get the marriage annulled and we can forget this ever happened.”

  He stared at me with those intense hazel eyes, his jaw even harder than before. “No, I’m not giving up now.”

  I wanted to ask him if he was sure, but the look he gave me, a depthless glare, made me shut my mouth and nod.

  The lawyer, after stipulating a hefty retainer, finally agreed to help us with the green card application and the process.

  “All right, you two have to move in together right away and take lots of pictures together,” Anita said. “All the time. Selfies everywhere. Always smiling, always happy. Oh, and study the interview questions. Know them by heart.”

  We knew that was a part of the deal, but being close together and pretending to love each other was still our biggest challenge.

  The lawyer gave us a few forms to fill out, an invoice to pay, then told us she would have it all sent out before the end of the day. She probably would receive confirmation that the government received our application by Friday or the beginning of next week.

  Tyler and I left the lawyer’s office a little before noon, and for some reason, I felt heavy. Concerned. Defeated.

  And he was still tense and hard like a damn rock.

  “Hey, what is it?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, just not a good day, I guess.”

  I glanced at my phone. It was almost noon. “Are you hungry? There’s this sandwich place I like around the corner.”

  He looked at me with his eternal frown and said, “I have some stuff to do.” He ran a hand through his hair.

  “Do you want some company?”

  “No, i
t’s fine. I can drive you back to your brother’s apartment, though.”

  I shook off the shock. I hadn’t truly expected him to say no to both offers. I was trying here, damn it. “No, it’s okay. I’ll walk.”

  “Okay, hm. I pick you up Friday morning.”

  I nodded. “Yes. We’ll get the apartment keys and start moving.”

  He nodded. “Okay. See you, then.”

  Then, he just turned around and walked to his truck before I could say anything. Because I had plenty to say, but when I tried, he either left in a hurry or the words got stuck in my throat.

  I walked back to the guys’ apartment, trying not to think too hard about Tyler and our current situation.

  19

  Tyler

  I had rented a small U-Haul truck for the move. My pride was too fucking big and I didn’t ask for help when trying to load all the things we had in my shitty apartment into the truck, but a neighbor who always greeted me in the hallway saw me and offered some help. I wanted to say no, but I dropped a big chair and broke its leg. Then, I relented and let him help me.

  I had already put everything in boxes or bags, so it took only a little over an hour to load the truck—I didn’t have much, and all I had was junk. My neighbor offered to help me at my new place, but I told him I was fine. However, I had no idea how I would carry the sofa up the stairs alone.

  To my surprise, Gabi was already at the apartment. The living room hardwood shone and a heavy citrus smell hung in the air; she had been cleaning.

  “Oi,” she said from the kitchen. She had a small, white rag in her hands, which didn’t match her plaid shirt and jean shorts and cowboy boots. She reached over the fridge, standing on her tiptoes and giving me a full view of her long, lean legs. Damn, she was fine. “I’m just finishing here, and then I can help you bring your stuff up.”

  I averted my gaze. “No, it’s fine. I can do it myself,” I said, not sure why I lied to her.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m almost done cleaning, and all my stuff is already in my room. My new bedroom furniture won’t arrive until later, so I have plenty of time to help you.”

  Groaning, I dropped the bags I had brought and turned around to retrieve more. I had taken three loads of boxes and bags up when Gabi joined me at the truck. Without hesitation, she reached for a large bag.

  “That’s heavy,” I warned her.

  She lifted it in her hands, testing it. “It’s fine. I work out, you know.”

  She whirled on her heels and hauled the heavy bag up the stairs, while I caught another glance at her legs. Yes, I did know she worked out.

  Sighing, I picked up an end table and took it upstairs. Though most of my furniture was the cheapest stuff from Ikea or thrift stores, some pieces were large and heavy for a single person. Like the TV stand and the couch.

  I stared at it from outside the truck, wondering how I would do this.

  “Let’s give it a try.” Gabi climbed up on the bed of the truck.

  “I confess I’m impressed with some of the boxes and bags you took inside, but I don’t think we can carry these.”

  She stared at me, her hands on her waist. “What do you want to do, then? Just stare at it and will it upstairs? I’m the only thing you got right now, so just pipe down and let me help.”

  Damn, girl.

  I hated how she was right. She was the only thing I had right now, for better or for worse, and she didn’t even know it.

  I shook my head but reached for the couch.

  It took us a few minutes and two quick rest stops on the stairs, but we did it. We hauled the couch upstairs to our apartment, and then the TV stand and the armchairs. I had to admit, her help was essential.

  Soon, my stuff was inside the apartment. Now came the boring part of opening the boxes and bags and organizing everything.

  My stomach growled.

  Beside me, Gabi chuckled. “Someone is hungry.”

  I glanced at the time on my phone. “It’s almost four in the afternoon and I haven’t eaten since seven in the morning.”

  She gaped at me. “You woke up at seven today? But you didn’t even have to go to work this morning.”

  “I woke up at six thirty, because I had to finish packing all this stuff—” I gestured to the boxes and bags littering the living room. “—out of my apartment by noon.” That was the time I had agreed with the landlord.

  In the end, he had pitied me and let me pay only half of what I owed him. A little guilt snaked its way into me as I accepted his offer. Now, I had money, because of my deal with Gabi, but it wouldn’t last long. And I hadn’t even paid all my bills yet. I had to save all I could.

  My stomach growled again.

  “Why don’t you get started here, and I’ll get us a pizza?”

  I frowned. “That’s okay. I’ll go out later and grab something.” I reached for a box and opened it up.

  Gabi came to stand on the other side of the box. “Tyler, stop being stubborn. I’m gonna buy a pizza. What do you like?”

  Shit. When she looked at me with those blue marbles, all serious and unrelenting, it was hard saying no. “Plain pepperoni.”

  She smiled. “Great. I’ll be right back.”

  I couldn’t help but watch her, her smile, her silky hair bouncing side to side, and her body and long legs as she sashayed out of the apartment.

  I braced the box with my forearms and lowered my forehead. Shit. It had been one week. Only one week of this arrangement and the few times I had been close to her had already started driving me crazy. Mad. Enraged. Jealous. Lusty.

  Living with her for two years would be hell. I had to find a way to put more distance between us somehow.

  20

  Gabi

  There was a pizza place right around the corner. I ordered an extra-large pepperoni pizza and also one of their cookie-pizza desserts, and in less than twenty minutes, I was back at my new apartment. In the little time I was gone, Tyler managed to open his boxes and spread his things through the place.

  I halted in the door and looked around. He had told me he didn’t have much and what he had was simple, but so far it looked like he had a good taste. At least right now he had way more things than me in the apartment. So far, I had only two suitcases in my bedroom. My furniture would arrive—a queen bed and mattress, two nightstands, a dresser, and an armchair. I would have to think about the little walk-in-closet. There was only a couple of wire shelves in there and it wouldn’t be enough. But that was for later.

  “Pizza is here,” I announced, weaving through the open boxes.

  Tyler’s head poked up from behind a stack of boxes. “Oh, good.”

  I placed the pizza on the kitchen counter and looked around. No plates, forks, or knifes. I glanced at Tyler. “Do you know where your kitchen stuff is?”

  He halted beside the counter. “Hm, I’m not sure. I don’t remember seeing it just now, so it must be in one of the boxes I haven't opened yet. Why?”

  “So we can eat.” I wasn’t going to eat pizza at this time of the afternoon, but I was dying to sink my teeth into the cinnamon-scented cookie.

  Tyler let out a low chuckle. “We don’t need that.” Unceremoniously, he opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice with his hand. Then, he bit into it. All the while looking at me.

  I scrunched my nose. “I forget you Americans eat pizza like that.”

  He swallowed. “Is there any other way to eat pizza?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Bem, if you let us, Brazilians will eat even cheeseburgers with a fork and knife. Or at least holding it with a napkin.”

  “It seems Brazilians are nuts.”

  I smiled. “Perhaps.”

  He stopped chewing and his eyes flicked to my mouth for half a second. I lost my smile and turned to the second box I had brought. “There’s this too.” I opened the smaller box with the cookie pizza. “I think it’s just a giant, thick cookie in a pizza shape, but it looks so good.”

  He nodded. “I've had it before. It
is really good.”

  I picked up a small slice in my hand, wishing I had a plate and utensils. “It would probably go well with coffee.”

  Tyler glanced over his shoulder. “The coffee machine isn’t in a box. I saw it a few minutes ago.”

  He took a step back, but I raised my hand. “It’s okay. Eat your pizza and I’ll look around for the coffee machine.”

  I dropped my slice of cookie pizza back into the box and made my way through all the things spread around the living room. Looking at it all so messy, I wondered if this small apartment would be enough to house everything. But I knew once Tyler picked it all up and organized his things, I would probably have to go out and buy more furniture and decorations. As far as I knew, guys weren’t into details, while I needed them.

  I rummaged through the boxes until I saw it, lying on the floor beside an open box. I bent down to pick it up, but the contents of the open box caught my attention. Right on top of the box was a small jewelry box, and right beside it, a picture frame. I picked up the picture frame and smiled at a young Tyler, probably three or four years old, on a horse’s back, his smile wide and his entire face alight. Underneath the frame, there was an open shoe box filled with pictures. Curiosity won over, and instead of picking up the coffee machine and bring it over to the kitchen, I grabbed the box.

  “Look what I found,” I told Tyler as I walked back to the kitchen. I placed the box right beside the pizza on the counter. I reached for the picture on top—a young couple and a baby, who I assumed were Tyler and his parents. “You never told me about your family.” The moment my fingers closed around the photo, Tyler snatched it from me. I was about to snap at him, but then I looked up at him. His eyes were rounded, his jaw taut, his shoulders tense. “What happened?”

  “You shouldn’t have touched this,” he said, his voice low and harsh.

  “It was just lying there. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It doesn’t matter where it was. It isn't yours.”