Teaching Roman (20 page)

When Roman took over the bathroom, I stepped onto the balcony for fresh air. Our room might be average, but the view wasn’t. I couldn’t step onto the sandy beach from here like I’d been able to in December, but the salty scent of ocean water perfumed the air. The smell reminded me of splashing with Roman in the water. We’d made love in that ocean, holding back promises we knew we couldn’t make.

The door behind me slid open, and then he was there, the warmth of his presence augmenting the calm I found in our ocean view.

“How are you?” I asked in a soft voice.

“I’ve never felt so happy and broken-hearted at the same time,” he admitted. “Tell me something funny, so I don’t feel this horrible pressure anymore.”

“The nurse thought I was your wife,” I said, laughing as I leaned against him on the balcony.

The breeze caught my hair and blew it against my face, but Roman brushed it back and nuzzled into my neck.

“That’s because I told them you were my wife,” he whispered. “They weren’t going to let you into her room if you weren’t related.”

My pulse sped up, my mind blank as my heart pounded in my chest.

“It’s funny,” he continued. “The lie slipped out so smoothly that I almost believed it myself, and then as I sat with Aba and spoke with her about you, it hit me. Saying you were my wife wasn’t a lie at all. It was a wish.”

The confession hung between us, but it didn’t weigh down the air or make it hard for me to breathe. It simply sent a pang trembling through my chest. By the time Roman took me by the shoulders and turned me to face him, tears pooled in my eyes. When he cupped my chin softly and brought my gaze to his, they spilled over the edge. I understood what he meant about the wish. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, but our relationship had evolved, morphed into something more than either of us had expected. I’d felt it when Cassie told me about Aba, and at the airport, and at the hospital. I felt it now.

“Marry me.” It wasn’t a question or a command when he said it. It was fact. Truth. The answer we’d both been searching for, but had been too obstinate to see.

My lips opened to give him the answer he didn’t need to hear, but he placed a finger over them before I could speak.

“I know what you’re going to say, Jessica Stone, because I know.
I know,
” he said. “So I have a request. Marry me tomorrow. Don’t make me wait another day for you. I know I’m not perfect. I know there are a million logical reasons to wait, and I don’t give a damn about any of them. Be my partner—to have and to hold.”

I could barely speak through my tears, but I managed a small smile. “From this day forward?”

“For better or worse,” he promised me.

“Until death do us part?” I asked in a whisper, my eyes never leaving his.

“Not even then.” His lips sealed over mine, and the world melted away, leaving only him and I, promises on our tongues and stars over our heads.

T
he next morning I found myself in a pale yellow sundress, the closest thing I could find to white in the bag Cassie had packed, standing at the foot of Aba’s hospital bed, clutching a bouquet purchased from a street vendor on our walk to the hospital. We’d managed to find inexpensive silver bands from another. The hospital staff didn’t seem to mind that Roman had lied to them about me being his wife since we planned to get married in the ICU. In fact, the whole floor twittered with activity. Nurses brought in more flower arrangements sent down by other patients’ families. The Doctors teased Roman in Spanish, elbowing him in the ribs good-naturedly. The chaplain had arranged for an expedited marriage license so we could be married as quickly as possible. In a place that usually saw so much sickness and death, everyone seemed eager to celebrate life.

Aba was sitting up, alert and glowing. She looked healthier than she had yesterday, although she was too weak to get out of bed. When the chaplain arrived, he spoke with Roman for a few minutes. I watched my groom nod solemnly and then shake his head. Roman’s eyes flickered to mine, and they blazed, burning straight through me and leaving me breathless. He nodded again to the chaplain, who clapped him on the shoulder. Outside the room, the staff pressed to the windows and crowded into the doorway to watch the ceremony. All around I saw my own goofy grin reflected back at me. Everybody loves a wedding.

But it was certainty smoldering in Roman’s eyes and I felt it as surely as my heart beat in my chest. Roman stood across from me, the chaplain between us, as we exchanged our vows. The chaplain spoke slowly so I could follow along. Of course I had snuck out of bed this morning and read and reread the traditional wedding vows in Spanish so that I would know what I was saying. Even so, Roman repeated his vows in English as though he wanted to be clear about what I was getting into.

I thought I might be self-conscious getting married in a hospital room, but there was only Roman and the words passing between us, our voices steady and strong. The smile on my face grew each time Roman made a promise, but it wasn’t until he surprised me by stepping forward and reaching for my hand that I felt rawness creep into my throat. Setting my flowers on the bed, he took both of my hands, his gaze leveled directly at me and spoke in a soft voice, loud enough that only the people in the room could hear.

“There was a time when I couldn’t have imagined a family of my own, and then I saw you—truly saw you for the first time. Maybe I hadn’t been looking before, but I thank god you were on that plane that day. In fact, when we get back to Olympic Falls, remind me to send Trevor a thank you note for being a jerk.”

We both laughed at this, which gave me a momentary reprieve from the press of tears in my throat.

“I screwed up before, and you called me out on it. And one day I woke up and realized I was living a half-life without you. I need you, not only because you make me laugh, but because you don’t put up with my BS. It was that day that I knew my life was entwined with yours forever. That’s what I want you to remember about today. I’m not a perfect man, Jessica, but I will protect you, love you, respect you. I’m honored to be your husband.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks as he finished, and I could only nod, whispering “I love you.”

I was barely aware of the chaplain’s guidance for the rest of the ceremony. Every moment was instinctual. Bringing my hand up for him to slip on my wedding ring. Placing a ring on his finger. And the kiss.

The kiss
.

It was the first kiss of my life. At least it felt like it. As though I’d never really kissed anyone before. Roman’s hand cupped my face, holding me steady, even as I felt I might crumble against him. It was soft and gentle and firm and demanding all the same time. There was the weight of our vows and the promise of forever in that kiss. A lifetime passing between our lips as we sealed our wedding vows.

In that moment we fused into one and I understood the meaning of
always
.

When we broke from the kiss, breathless, I saw the same wonderment reflected in Roman’s eyes. The applause of our audience drew us back to reality, and I laughed and blushed as they called for another kiss. We obliged with a quick, self-conscious peck on the lips. Roman’s arm wrapped around my waist, drawing me to his side, and he shook hands with the chaplain. As it turned out, the whole group wanted to congratulate us, and they filtered into the room one by one, giving us hugs and kissing our cheeks. I didn’t understand half of what they said, but I knew what they were telling me. There was a twinge in my chest at the thought of my absent friends. The only thing that could have made this moment more perfect would have been in if Jess and Cassie were here. But as it was, the room was filled with love and joy.

When it became clear that news of the ceremony had spread through the hospital and that we might very well be accepting congratulations for a long time still, I slipped from my husband’s side and sat down next to Aba. She took my hand, her strong fingers felt fragile as they held mine.

“I am happy,” she told me. I saw it in her shining eyes and toothy grin.

“I am, too.”

“You are good for him,” she said. “You love him, but you don’t put up with his crap. That’s the wife he needs.”

I laughed at this assessment. “But he doesn’t put up with my crap either, Aba.”

“Good. The world is full of enough liars and cheats. There’s not place in a marriage for them. Be honest, but be gentle. Speak with love even in anger.”

I nodded, drinking in her advice. “I will, Aba.”

It felt as though I was making my own vows to her. She was giving him to me. To protect. To love. And I took this seriously. As much as I wanted to believe Aba was doing better, and it looked like she was, I needed her to know Roman would be loved and cared for.

“Roman is not helpless,” she continued, “and neither are you,
mi nieta
, but you must learn to depend on each other. It is good to be strong, it is better to be whole.”

I understood what she was saying. Roman and I were both opinionated at best, obstinate at worst. Our ambition had put us both through school. We were both independent, but there was strength when we were together that I’d never felt before. Marriage would mean compromise. It meant give and take on both our ends. But it also meant being whole.

Aba waved for Roman. When he came over, she lifted his hand and clasped it with mine, her fingers tight around our joined hands, sighing in satisfaction. She spoke to Roman in rapid Spanish so that I couldn’t keep up, although I got the word
leche
.

Milk.

Crimson painted my cheeks, but Roman only laughed. Leaning down, he kissed Aba on the cheek and said, “I promise.”

“Go! I’m not going anywhere,” she ordered us. “Take your wife to bed.”

My blush deepened and my eyes found a crack in the wall that required all my attention. Suddenly, two strong arms scooped me up and carried me out the room. Doctors, nurses, and visitors whooped as we passed them, yelling more congratulations at us. On my way out I tossed my bouquet to a young nurse who raised it triumphantly.

He finally set me onto my feet when we were back on the street, but he pulled me to him immediately, kissing me deeply as he cradled my body. I melted into him, my skin growing feverish with desire.

“I think maybe a taxi?” he suggested , his lips still brushing against mine.

“Mmmmhmmm.” My brain had stopped forming words.

His hand thread through mine and we dashed up a block, laughing, until he finally hailed a cab. The interior of the taxi was worn and dirty and the least romantic place I’d ever been in, and I couldn’t care less. My gaze was trained on Roman and his on mine. We were so lost in each other that it took the driver clearing his throat before we realized he had stopped the car. Roman tossed way too much money at him which elicited an enthusiastic thanks and the driver’s business card.

“Mr. And Mrs. Markson,” the concierge called as we came in. The name hit me like a ton of bricks. I wasn’t certain I’d be taking Roman’s last name, but there was something thrilling about hearing her say it. If only because it was a reminder that I was his wife.

“Yes,” Roman said, skidding to a stop. His toe tapped a tattoo on the polished floor.

“We are so happy to hear of your marriage,” she said in a heavily-accented English. “We’ve taken the liberty of arranging a villa for you this evening.”

“But our things,” I said. I was already forming a list of all the items I would need from my bags.

“That’s kind of you, but not necessary,” he said. It was obvious he was making his own list of all the items that had to be transferred. I guessed it had less to do with inconvenience and more to do with wanting to take me to bed.

“Your sister called us and had us take care of it already. She wanted your wedding night to be special,” she told us. “The villa is ready for you. We can show you there if you like.”

“We know our way,” Roman said, his lips twitching. The concierge handed us a key and wished us well.

As soon as we were out of the building, we ran hand in hand to the villa. It was the same one Cassie and I had stayed in during our trip.

“This was nice of your sister,” he said as he slid the key into the lock.

“I didn’t tell my sister,” I said slowly, confusion creeping into my happy stupor.

“Then who?” Roman asked as he opened the door.

“Aba?” I guessed. She was the only one who knew we were married. I hadn’t even texted Jess or Cassie. This seemed like an in-person announcement.

“Perhaps we can set Nancy Drew on the case?” Roman suggested. “I’ll call her later. For now, I’m under orders to take you to bed.”

“From your grandmother,” I said.

“Who is a wise woman,” he reminded me. Before I could respond, he’d lifted me into his arms again. “Over the threshold, Mrs. Markson?”

Throwing my arms around his neck, I buried my face against his shoulder. “I think I’m keeping my name.”

“I figured as much,” he said as he carried me into the bedroom. “But would you mind if I made love to Mrs. Markson for the afternoon?”

I shook my head. “Not in the least.”

R
ose petals had been sprinkled over the bed and there was a bottle of champagne chilling on the bedside table. It looked as though we’d stumbled into a brochure for a honeymoon suite, and then it hit me, we had. The realization burst through me with a fit of giggling.

Roman nuzzled my cheek as he laid me on the bed. “Something funny?”

“It’s all so surreal,” I said. “We’re
married
.”

“It hasn’t sunk in for me either. I’m happy and disoriented at the same time,” he said.

“That sounds like a decent start to a marriage. There are worse benefits than blissful confusion.”

“You know the other benefit?” he asked me.

“I’m hoping to,” I said, reached for his belt buckle.

“I’m trying to have a serious conversation and your mind is in the gutter.”

“I thought you wanted to make love to your wife?”

“I do,” he said. “But it just occurred to me that my wife will enjoy some benefits at Olympic State.”