Green Card

by Elizabeth Adams

  He smiled a bit sheepishly. “Well, I got the reservation. The show starts at eight, we've got VIP seats.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Of course we do. What time is it now?”

  “Quarter past six.”

  “I'd better get ready.” She pushed him out of the bathroom. “You can wait downstairs while I take a shower.”

  He let her propel him toward the stairs, then turned when he reached the top. “Do you want me to bring your bag up for you?”

  “That would be nice, thank you.”

  “I'll call Andrew and let him know the plan, then I'll bring it.”

  “Thank you, honey!” she called as she walked into the bathroom.

  “Yes, dear,” he answered drolly.

  Harper quickly called Andrew and told him of their plans, double checked the information he had looked up earlier about all night wedding chapels that weren't too seedy, and fixed himself a quick drink at the bar. He checked the location of the performance venue and realized it was close enough to walk, then arranged for the car he'd hired for the weekend to pick them up after the show and take them to dinner. Another quick call to Evelyn and dinner reservations after the show were secured. They may have been there to get married, but there was no reason they couldn't have a little fun while they were at it.

  Not realizing how expedient he had been with his calls, he grabbed the two suitcases and bounded up the stairs in a surprisingly good mood. Things were finally rolling and with any luck, his immigration problems would be over soon. And though he'd never admit it to anyone, he was really looking forward to the Cirque de Soleil show.

  He stepped into the bedroom and set Liz's bag across the low dresser and his own on the luggage rack he found in the closet. Cocking his ears, he realized the sound he was hearing was steadily running water and a low voice singing. Was that Hot Blooded?

  Telling himself he would not turn around and look, he began to back toward the stairs. Liz would be understandably angry if he watched her taking a shower without her knowledge. And he was not a common Peeping Tom. He paused. Of course, she would be his wife in a matter of hours. Would it really hurt to look? Just for a second? The glass was frosted, and with the steam, he probably wouldn't be able to see more than a shadow anyway. Was it really so wrong to take a tiny little peek?

  Annoyed with himself for his lack of control over his own curiosity, he slowly turned around and looked toward the glass panel.

  “Holy mother of-” his whispered words died on his lips as he looked open-mouthed at Liz. As she turned her back to him, he couldn't help the slight groan that escaped as he took in her silhouette. He stared at her waist, the way it drew in above her hips before flaring out again over her ribs. He had the sudden urge to grab her there and pull her to him, run his hands over those round hips and feel her perfect ass against his -.

  “Get a hold of yourself, man!” he said harshly. He berated himself mentally for not having dated anyone since the whole Alicia fiasco—and he hadn't even slept with her. Come on, Harper! It's only been a few months—okay, six months. You can handle this! He lectured himself internally as he went down the first few steps until he heard she had turned off the water. He waited for her to leave the shower, then banged back up the last few steps and called to her.

  “Your luggage is on the bureau, Liz.”

  “Thanks,” she called back, her voice muffled.

  Probably buried in a fluffy white towel, he thought. He went back downstairs on shaky legs and flipped through the channels until she called down that the shower was available if he needed it. He needed a shower, all right. A very cold shower.

  **

  The show was amazing. Their seats were perfect and the foursome ooh-ed and ah-ed in all the right places. Afterward, they went to a very exclusive, very expensive restaurant for a late supper. Harper ordered champagne and toasted his fiancé and the four drank, ate, and laughed more than any of them could remember doing in a long time. Finally, dinner was over and it was time to go to the chapel.

  Harper gave the address to the driver, and twenty minutes later they were pulling up to a small white building designed to look like a country church. The four piled out, raucous but sober, and headed inside. Within minutes, they had a license and were third in line to be married.

  “I don't want the word 'obey' in the vows,” Liz said suddenly.

  “What?”

  “No obey. I don't want to promise that.”

  Will came close and whispered in her ear, “It's kind of a moot point, isn't it? Why does it matter what the vows say?”

  “Because they're vows!” she whispered back. “I may not keep all of them, like the 'as long as you both shall live' part, but I can keep others, like no cheating and not ditching you because you're sick.”

  He looked at her incredulously. “Uh—”

  “I know, it's kind of late to be bringing this up.”

  He made a face that showed he clearly agreed with that assessment. “You think?”

  Suddenly she brightened. “I know! Let's say our own!”

  “Our own?”

  “Yeah, our own vows! It's way more romantic that regular vows, and it will make a great story,” she said quietly.

  “I'm sure it would, but I don't have any vows prepared and we're supposed to be reciting them in fifteen minutes!” It was clear he was not happy and beginning to get distressed.

  “Andy can help you. He's great with words!” She looked at him hopefully while he just stared back at her with an I-can't-believe-this-is-happening-to-me expression. “Andy, come here.”

  “What's up, guys?” Andrew asked quietly.

  “What do you think of me and Will reciting our own vows?”

  Andrew immediately lit up and ignored Will's aggravated expression and frantic 'no' signals. “I think it's a great idea. It'll make a great story. Come on, Harper, I'll help.” Andrew pulled him into the corner as Will shot an angry look over his shoulder at Liz.

  “What's going on?” Jen asked.

  “We're writing our own vows. Here, help me.” She handed Jen a scrap of paper and a pen from her bag. “I would just like to lie as little as possible,” she whispered to her sister.

  Jennifer looked a little perplexed, but after thinking it over for a second, understood her sister's feelings and began writing.

  Exactly thirteen and a half minutes later, they stood in front of the officiant, who was dressed like a country minister, and the ceremony began. The first part was relatively quick and before she knew it, it was Liz's turn to say her vows.

  “I, Elizabeth, take you, William Harper, to be my husband. I promise to always be by your side when you need me, to listen when you need an ear to hear you, to hold you when you need comfort, and to be your companion when you are lonely. I promise to be there for as long as you want me.”

  Harper looked at her with wide eyes, surprised by her candor and her ability to promise things she could actually deliver without telling a single lie or saying that she loved him. No one seemed to notice that omission. He took the paper with Andrew's flowery words and put it in his pocket, deciding on the spur of the moment that if she could be honest, so could he.

  “I, William, take you, Elizabeth Barrett, to be my wife. I promise to support you, encourage you, and protect you. I will be there when you need me and give you space when you don't. I promise to be there for as long as you want me.”

  They shared a private smile and the minister instructed them to exchange rings. The next thing they knew, he was announcing them husband and wife and telling William to kiss the bride.

  He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss, then led her down the aisle to a bad organ recording of The Wedding March. They quickly got into the limo with Jennifer and Andrew and sped back to the hotel.

  “Well, that was lovely,” said Jennifer.

  “Yes, well done, Will. You scared me for a minute when you put away your notes, but you pulled it off. I'm impressed,” Andrew added.

  “Thank
s, Andrew. Coming from you, that's saying something.” Andrew nodded silently and Will looked down at the hand he was still holding. “Well, Liz, how does it feel to be a married woman?”

  “I don't know just yet. How does it feel to be a married man?”

  “Ask him in the morning!” Andrew exclaimed. Will looked down, embarrassed, but before he had time to reply, they pulled up in front of the hotel.

  “What are your plans?” Liz asked her sister as they were climbing out.

  “Well, since you two will be heading up, we thought we'd play for a little while. Andy has offered to teach me how to play roulette.”

  “Sounds fun. Just don't lose all your money!”

  “No worries. I only brought enough cash to play with and left all my credit cards in my room.”

  “Good thinking.” Liz and Jen kissed each other's cheeks as they parted in the lobby. “Good luck, Jenny!”

  “You, too!” Jenny called as she was pulled away by an excited Andrew. Liz laughed and took Will's arm as they waited in front of the elevator.

  “Well, my husband, can you believe we're married? How do you think you'll like the ball and chain?”

  He chuckled softly. “I think I'll like it just fine.” He leaned down to kiss the top of her head where it rested on his shoulder.

  “Oh, did you two just get married?” asked an older lady in pearls and a red Chanel suit.

  “Yes, tonight,” Liz answered with a smile.

  “Congratulations! You know, I was a Vegas bride,” she said with a knowing look to Liz.

  “Really?”

  “Oh, yes. It was different back then, of course. Oh, my father was so angry with me! I thought he'd never forgive me! But he did, and Henry and I have been together forty-three years now.”

  “Wow! That is quite an accomplishment! What's your secret?” Liz asked as the woman was joined by her husband, a dapper-looking man in a gray suit.

  “Oh, I don't know. I'd have to say it's living every day like you said your vows that morning.” She leaned in toward Liz and whispered, “And good sex helps!”

  Liz let out a startled laugh and the woman's husband took her arm. “Come, Sophia, I see our car has arrived.”

  “All right, Henry. I'm coming. Congratulations again, you two. You make a lovely couple.”

  “Thank you,” said Lizzy sincerely.

  “Thank you,” added Will.

  Just then the elevator doors opened and Liz followed Will in. “Our first congratulations. And from a happy couple. That's got to be a good sign, right?”

  “Of what?” he asked.

  “That we're doing the right thing.”

  He didn't answer but wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side.

  10

  Wedding Night

  Late April, Friday

  Married 2 hours

  “Wow. You look...” Harper trailed off, his voice soft and his eyes wide as he took in the image of Elizabeth in a long white nightgown and robe.

  Liz smiled mischievously. “What can I say? I'm a traditionalist.”

  He raised his brows in disbelief.

  “Well, in some things. This is my wedding night after all.” She sashayed toward William, her hips swaying beneath the white silk. “Who knows when I'll have another wedding night? Besides, second weddings are always much more subdued than firsts, so I thought I should milk this one while I had the chance.” She stopped and looked serious for a minute. “I had to be seen buying something in the shop downstairs, and I thought, since I have it,” she trailed off and shrugged. And since I might not actually ever have another wedding night…

  He smiled at her jest, then looked at her seriously, his eyes soft and gentle. “It’s all right, you look nice.” He touched the hair over her shoulder for a second. “Elizabeth. Thank you,” he took her hands in his and kissed each one, “sincerely. I don't know any other woman who would have done half so much for me.”

  Elizabeth met his eyes for a moment, then smiled slyly. “Well, you are paying me, so I'm not a complete saint.”

  Harper smiled and chuckled, accepting her shift away from the serious. “Champagne? It's a shame to let it go to waste.”

  She nodded and he poured her a glass. “To two happily married years.” She echoed the toast and touched her glass to his.

  After taking a sip, he looked at her uncomfortably. “I had planned to kip on the sofa, but as you can see, there isn't one here. It would raise suspicions to ask for an extra bed. If you don't want to share, I can sleep on the chaise.”

  “Don't be silly, Will. You're way too big for that thing.” She gestured to the chaise by the fire. “We're adults. And we are married. I think we can share a bed without too much trouble.” He just smiled in response. “Now, I am exhausted. What do you say we veg out upstairs?”

  “Lead the way.”

  After nibbling on strawberries and drinking almost the entire bottle of champagne, Harper leaned back against the headboard and looked at Lizzy as she lounged on the other side of the bed. She really was a beautiful woman. Her long white nightgown hugged in all the right places, one perfectly toned leg peeking through the thigh-high slit. Her robe had fallen off her shoulders and now hung round her elbows, baring her creamy shoulders and delicate collarbone to his eyes. How was it that no one had claimed her yet? It struck him that she must trust him; here they were, all alone in a hotel room, late at night, half drunk on champagne and she was barely dressed. Yet she seemed completely comfortable.

  “Liz, can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why did you marry me?” She looked at him incredulously. “Seriously. In one evening, you agreed to spend more than two years of your life with a man you'd only known for an hour and lie to all your family and friends about it. Why did you do it?”

  Liz looked at him, unsure of how to answer. “I don't really know. Jenny told me about the situation and it sounded intriguing. Then I met you and you didn't seem so bad.” He raised his brows. She sighed. “Honestly?”

  He nodded his head. “Please.”

  “I don't know why I did it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. All I can say is that it seemed like the thing to do.” He gave her a look. “And now you think I’m crazy.”

  “I don’t think you’re crazy. It just seems like an odd reason to me. Are you always so spontaneous?”

  “Not always. I just go with my gut. It's rarely wrong.”

  “Your gut?”

  “Yeah. Don't look so skeptical. It's true. Once, I applied for this college that I really wanted to go to. They had the perfect program for me and everything seemed just right, but every time I tried to fill out the paper work I got this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Once I got so nauseous I actually ran to the bathroom thinking I was going to lose my lunch. So I applied to NYU and got a scholarship to boot.”

  “I see. And does this amazing gut instinct apply to other life decisions or just your choice of educational institutions?”

  “Actually, oh doubtful one, it does. Three years ago, there was a really cute guy in one of my classes. He was constantly trying to get me to go out with him, but even though he was charming, I always thought there was something not quite right about him. My friends thought I was crazy not to say yes but my gut told me not to. Six months later he was arrested for slipping mickeys to freshmen at a frat party. So you see, I was right about the charming sleaze ball.”

  He raised his hands in surrender. “All right, I give in. The gut knows all and shall not be questioned.”

  She laughed and ate another strawberry before asking him, “What about you? Was there really no other option than getting married? And why me? Didn't you have an ex or a friend who would've done it?”

  “Well, as far as options went, this really was the safest one. Even if immigration never looks my way, having a green card is a much better set up for me. As far as your involvement goes, we were in a hurry, Andrew s
uggested you, and I agreed to meet you. You didn't seem so bad, so I—” Lizzy interrupted by throwing a pillow at his head. “Hey! What was that for?”

  “Not so bad?” she cried.

  He laughed out loud. “Well, I did think you had a great ass.”

  “Thanks,” she said sarcastically.

  “And I don't really have any exes. The only one I would have considered is married to someone else with a couple of kids, so that wasn't an option.”

  “You weren't afraid I was a psycho killer or anything?”

  “Psycho killers must be a relatively small portion of the population.” She shot him a playful glare. “And Andrew trusted you and I trust Andrew. That's what really did it.”

  “You two are really close, huh?”

  “Yes. He's my oldest friend. Like a brother, really.”

  “How many siblings do you have?”

  “One. Just my sister I was telling you about that's seven years younger than me. She got married last summer and moved to Cyprus with her husband. He has a place there where he likes to go to 'write',” he said with air quotes.

  “What's so wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, if you're really writing. But he sits on the beach, swims, and takes walks. He never actually writes anything. He says he's gathering inspiration and ideas, but I think he's just lazy.”

  “How do they live? Does your sister work?”

  “Jacqueline bought a little run down inn and is fixing it up. She's always been interested in restoration. I don't know whether she'll sell it or run it when she's finished. Possibly neither. She has her trust fund which they could easily live on comfortably, plus he has his own, though I don't know if he ever uses it.”

  “Wow.”

  “What?”

  “It's just a little odd. I've never known people who don't need to work. Besides retired people. And they definitely aren't buying hotels in Cyprus to renovate.”

  He smiled. “It's a different world. You'll get used to it. Besides, it's not all fun and spending. It's not unusual for me to work sixty plus hours a week and I know some who do more than that.”