The Professor's Green Card Marriage (Dreamspun Desires Book 98)

by Heidi Cullinan

  Peter nodded, head cast down. He looked frustrated and miserable as he hurried away.

  “Don’t mind him.” The girl crouched down, efficiently picking up the last of the mess. “He doesn’t talk much. It’s nothing personal. I’ll make sure he wasn’t hurt. But are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I was sitting at my table. I only came over to help.” He stared at Peter’s retreating back, mind whirring to process everything.

  I’ll marry you.

  Peter had heard them, no question. That wasn’t good. Had that been some kind of joke? It hadn’t seemed like it, but Valentyn couldn’t work out what else it was supposed to be. Certainly not a serious offer?

  But what if it was?

  Valentyn had watched Peter ever since the young man had started working at Procaffeination. He was slight and pretty in a way that had always caught Valentyn’s eye. The quietness attracted him too. More than once Valentyn had stopped his work to admire Peter’s efficiency of movement, the way he had a tendency to rub his fingers delicately on his apron after picking up one too many dirty plates. There was a sharpness about his face as well that hinted at a deep intelligence.

  He needed to talk to Peter. He needed to find out what he’d meant, whether Peter was promising trouble or salvation.

  “You can go back to your seat.” The girl smiled cheerily as she hefted the bin onto her hip. “We’ve got this.”

  Valentyn searched for Peter, who hadn’t yet reappeared from the kitchen.

  The girl’s smile slipped a little. “You didn’t try to talk to him before, did you? Did you make him drop the tub?”

  Valentyn blinked at her. “Sorry?”

  Her smile evaporated. She glanced at the door to the kitchen, then spoke in a low and no-nonsense tone. “I’m not joking around. He doesn’t talk much, and he never talks to strangers. He can’t. I don’t want to get into it because it’s none of your business, but Peter’s a good guy. He’s just got that mutism thing is all. He can’t talk to you.”

  Puzzle pieces began to click into place. Murmuring thanks, Valentyn returned to his seat, head spinning.

  Dennis, ever the gossipmonger, leaned in close as Valentyn sat. “What was all of that?”

  Valentyn waved him quiet as he pulled out his phone. Mutism. The search page instantly filled with articles, all titled selective mutism. He scanned them, lips moving.

  Dennis continued to stare at him, curious but quiet.

  When Peter returned with the broom, he didn’t look at Valentyn, but his face and ears were beet red. He moved the broom angrily across the floor. The girl was gone.

  God, but Peter was adorable.

  Had he been serious?

  What if he was?

  Heartbeat quickening, Valentyn dug through his bag, produced a paper and pen, and hurried over to Peter before he could slip away again.

  Peter glanced at him, then very deliberately didn’t look at him again. Just like the time Valentyn had complimented him on his coffee-making skills—his disastrous attempt at flirting.

  Except maybe it hadn’t been a disaster at all.

  Clutching the pad and pen, Valentyn stood beside Peter and the Wet Floor sign. “Were you serious?”

  The broom stopped. After a pause, still not looking up, Peter nodded.

  Valentyn’s heart was going to beat right out of his chest. “So you heard me talking about my… problem with Dennis?”

  Peter’s shoulders rounded. He glanced longingly at the pad of paper and pen.

  Valentyn handed it to him. Peter took a great deal of time to write with a shaking hand, then passed the tablet over. Sorry.

  Valentyn’s cheeks heated now too. “But you weren’t making a joke when you asked me that? When you proposed to me?”

  After a long pause, Peter shook his head.

  Was this really happening? Valentyn didn’t know what was appropriate to say right now. He wanted to ask why someone would simply offer themselves up like that to a complete stranger. He also wanted to ask if he was right, if Peter had figured out he was flirting before and simply hadn’t been able to respond. He wanted to apologize for not figuring out Peter had selective mutism, but he wasn’t sure if he should say Peter’s coworker had spilled the beans.

  Plus the girl, who was back at the counter, looked ready to punch him. Valentyn didn’t have any time left to dither.

  Lifting the pad, he scribbled down his name, his email, and his phone number, then passed them to Peter.

  Peter took the paper, clutching it as if it were a hundred-dollar bill. Then he dropped the broom and hurried out of the dining room, head down the entire way.

  The girl came back, picked up the broom, and aimed it at Valentyn.

  Holding up his hands, Valentyn backed away. His heart beat too fast in his chest. He was confused, unsteady. He wasn’t sure he should have given the man his number, let alone his name. He worried his impulsiveness had just put him in danger. Gathering his belongings, he headed for the door.

  Dennis hurried after. “Val, what are you—Val, wait up!”

  Valentyn didn’t wait. He stepped out of the shop and headed toward the university, trying not to worry he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

  Chapter Two

  VALENTYN. Man With the Ukrainian Accent was named Valentyn.

  Dr. Valentyn Savvich Shevchenko, to be exact.

  Peter googled the hell out of him as soon as he went on break. Valentyn was a visiting professor in the Department of Ecology and Evolutionary Biology and seemed to be pretty well-respected in his field. He had several social media accounts, including a YouTube channel. It was half in Ukrainian—or maybe Russian, Peter honestly wasn’t sure—and half in English. His bio on the college web page said he’d gone to undergrad at Iowa State University and grad school at Ohio State, then returned to Kyiv to teach for a few years before coming to teach at the University of Colorado Boulder. He had a lot of positive student reviews at CU.

  His English YouTube videos largely focused on restoration ecology, but several were about the importance of protecting the environment. Could the man be more perfect for Peter? He knew he’d felt a connection for a reason.

  Valentyn’s Twitter account had thirty-five followers. His profile picture was… a rock. He tweeted about six or seven times a month and retweeted a lot of stuff about ecology, most of it highly technical. Well, Peter assumed the non-English stuff was about ecology.

  There were a few other hits in English that mentioned articles Valentyn had written, and Peter read them enthusiastically. They were a little technical, but he relished the idea of digesting anything about his crush.

  While Peter did the dishes, he put in his Bluetooth headphones and watched some videos on how to speak Ukrainian. They were highly enlightening on more than just language. Also, he felt cool finally knowing how to say some of those letters that had baffled him whenever he saw Cyrillic script before. Who would have guessed a backwards R sounded like ja?

  He had to pause one of the videos when Amy tapped him on the shoulder. She looked worried. “Is everything okay?” She kept eyeing him carefully. “What did that guy say to you?”

  It took him a few seconds to reply. “N-nothing. It’s fine.” He gave her a smile he hoped was only mildly weird. Unless he was with his family, they always felt practiced.

  She looked dubious, but she didn’t press the issue. “I’m going back out to the front. But if you want to tell me anything, you know I’m always willing to listen, right?”

  Still smiling, absolutely sure it was an off-kilter one, Peter nodded.

  She returned to the main part of the coffee shop, and he resumed his videos. He got through two more before the back door opened.

  It was his uncle. Smiling for real this time, Peter paused the video and took out his headphones. “Hey, Uncle Joe.”

  “Hey yourself. Everything good?”

  Peter thought about the phone number in his pocket. “Very good.”

  Joe nodded. �
�Gonna do some payroll. How’s business been?”

  “Steady. The usual grad students and people with summer courses, and some professors.”

  Joe stopped at the large garbage can where Amy had dumped the broken dishes. “What the hell happened here?”

  “I dropped a tub. Sorry.”

  Joe waved a hand at him. “So long as nobody was hurt.” He frowned at Peter. “Wait, did someone bother you?”

  Peter pursed his lips. “Why does everyone assume someone bothers me?”

  Joe said nothing, but he came over and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Your mom called me this afternoon. She misses you.”

  “I’ll call her tonight.”

  “I’ll remind you.” Joe slapped his belly and sighed. “All right, I’m gonna go hit the books.”

  “Have fun.”

  Amy stuck her head through the door. “Peter, can you come help me with drinks? I’m slammed.”

  Peter nodded, heart skipping a beat in fear as he realized she might have heard him speaking easily to his uncle. He put his earbuds next to his phone on the ledge after turning them off and set down his towel to go fill the drink orders.

  When his shift was over, he hopped on his bike and hurried home. It was a sunny, mild afternoon, and the five-mile ride was flat. After saying hello to his aunt and cousins, he grabbed a bottle of water and shut himself in his tiny room, plugged in his phone, and got out the paper with Valentyn’s number on it.

  Squaring his shoulders, he applied his thumbs to the keyboard and began to type furiously.

  Hello, Dr. Shevchenko. This is Peter Grunberg, the one who dropped the bin at Procaffeination and asked you to marry him. How are you? Is this a good time to talk?

  Sipping his water bottle, he switched over to Twitter and got in several arguments about the environment until a notification bubble sent a preview of Valentyn’s reply, which came inside of three minutes.

  Good evening, Peter. Thanks for reaching out. Sorry again for startling you. And please, call me Val.

  Peter smiled and flipped back to the text message app.

  Okay. I will. I hope it wasn’t too weird that I said I’d marry you? I didn’t mean to open with that.

  This time he waited for the reply.

  You did surprise me.

  What, you don’t get proposed to every day? What’s wrong with the men in Boulder?

  LOL. You’re quite a charmer, aren’t you?

  Well, I can be, in text. In person I have trouble talking to people, but when you give me a keyboard, my performance is quite different…. Peter hesitated before typing the rest. Since you offered me a notepad, it looks like you figured that out already, though.

  Your coworker gave me a big hint. I hope that’s all right.

  I mean, it’s not like you can hide selective mutism. At least you didn’t assume I was unintelligent. Or autistic. Absolutely no shade at autism. It’s just that I’m not. I can’t talk to people I don’t know well when they’re in front of me, especially in a busy setting. It’s always been that way. Peter’s heart raced as he typed again. Sorry if I’m coming off as too intense. I’ve wanted to talk to you for a long time, but I haven’t been able to until now.

  A pause, lots of typing without anything coming through. No need to apologize. More pause, more typing. So you have trouble talking to strangers, but there are some people you can talk this freely with in person?

  Yep. My family and a few close friends. I’m not scared of people either. Obviously, since I proposed to you. A lot of times I want to talk, but it doesn’t work. Like with you. I always noticed you sitting at the window and wanted to say something. We’ve had a lot of conversations in my head you didn’t know about.

  Well, now we’re having a real one. This was the longest pause yet. So you heard about my predicament.

  I did. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but… okay, I eavesdropped on purpose. Sorry. But I’m not going to turn you in or anything. I want to help. You aren’t able to stay in the US, but you want to, right? You couldn’t get an employment visa, and your only chance now is a green card marriage?

  Shorter pause. Yes.

  I did some research on it. Pretty rough. How much time is left on the visa you have now?

  Four months. I was counting on a new one through the H-1B visa program, but the current administration has made that process tougher than it should be. With my J1 visa, there’s no recourse outside of marriage that will keep me in the country, not in time before I’m legally required to return.

  That really blows. I’m sorry. Peter settled deeper into his pillows. So are you willing to do a green card marriage? With me?

  I’m not trying to look a gift horse in the mouth, but is it wise for you to offer this to someone you hadn’t spoken to until today and know nothing at all about?

  Well, I wanted to get to know you first. But sure. I’m game.

  Just like that?

  Peter bit his lip. Maybe not get married tomorrow. Totally cool with a discussion about it, though.

  You do understand you wouldn’t be able to date anyone for years if you went through with this. I would receive a conditional green card because we’d have been married for less than two years at the time of the interview and final approval, and so we’ll have to wait two years from that point to file to remove the restriction. That would mean we’d need to live as married that entire time. I wouldn’t want to risk ICE finding out it was a fake.

  That’s not a problem. Also, it’s funny how you think people are lined up to date me.

  What’s wrong with the people in Boulder?

  Ha, ha.

  What’s good for the goose, etc.

  Peter grinned.

  Valentyn sent a second message. Well, I’m humbled and honored you’d even consider this. Please know I don’t expect anything, that I view this as entirely in your court.

  No, this has to be a mutual decision, I think. I mean, I get you have a lot invested in this, but I’m a stranger to you too.

  A pause. It seems to me that meeting up will have some significant disadvantages for you? How do you propose we go about getting to know one another? And I’m sorry if that’s a clueless question.

  Peter smiled at his phone. He liked this guy. It’s not a clueless question. Yeah, I won’t be able to talk like this in person. But there’s a lot we can do without talking.

  Realizing what that had sounded like, he blushed from head to toe and frantically typed again.

  I didn’t mean that to be a come-on! Sorry!

  Well. Now I’m disappointed.

  Now Peter blushed for an entirely different reason. But he also smiled. Wryly. I’m a little shy about that too. I tend to frustrate potential partners on so many levels. I haven’t yet met anyone willing to put up with me.

  If they view being with you as putting up with you, you’re better off without them.

  Now you sound like my aunt. Peter snuggled happily onto his side, though, and bit his bottom lip.

  That doesn’t make it not true. A pause. So, to the point: how would you like to proceed?

  How long do we have until it’s the point of no return for you?

  I’m not entirely sure. I think as long as I get married before my visa expires, I’m covered, but sooner is better than later, I suspect. And should you decide this isn’t for you, which is entirely valid, I’ll want a little time to try… other avenues. I have no idea what those are, but if I don’t think of something, Dennis will.

  That’s the guy you were with today, right?

  Yes. He teaches world literature at CU.

  Cool. Well, as to your question, I’d say let’s meet as soon as possible, but regular texts or emails wouldn’t be a bad idea. He sighed, then pressed on. Also, please don’t be weirded out when we meet and I can’t look you in the eye or say much. It’s not because I don’t want to see you.

  Understood.

  There was a long pause. Peter worried things had become awkward and was working out the best way to lighten
the mood when he got another text.

  Very sorry. I’ve had someone come into my office and should go. Please feel free to email me anything you like, or send me texts, whatever suits you. Later this evening after my lecture, I’ll do the same.

  Peter let out a sigh of relief. Sure. And no worries. Talk to you later.

  He got another smiley emoji, and then the conversation went silent.

  Clutching his phone to his chest, Peter stared dreamily at the wall, a goofy, giddy grin spread across his face.

  VALENTYN put his phone on his desk, leaned back in his chair, and stared at the wall as he willed his heartbeat to return to a less alarming rhythm. There was no one in his office. He simply hadn’t been able to continue that conversation for one second longer without coming apart. What he wouldn’t give for a cigarette right now, if not for CU and Boulder’s strict nonsmoking ordinances.

  Had he truly just casually agreed to talk with Peter about a green card marriage as easily as he would order a sandwich at a café?

  Well, nothing about it had been easy. He’d dropped the phone twice trying to type.

  He’d flirted, though. At such a time!

  With a groan, he curled forward and rested his forehead on the desk.

  Desperation had driven him to respond to Peter’s text. Fear of exposure, a need to contain a possible problem. Why hadn’t he insisted Dennis be quieter? Except if Dennis had been quieter, Valentyn wouldn’t have Peter’s number.

  Which he shouldn’t use at all. But since it was too late for that, he should explore this as a possible solution.

  How convenient he’d been attracted to the man since he appeared at Valentyn’s favorite coffee shop.

  Oh God. This is a disaster.

  When his phone buzzed against the desk, Valentyn turned his mobile over to see the notification. He couldn’t decide if he was relieved or disappointed it was Dennis and not Peter.

  Got any texts yet?

  Valentyn stifled the urge to curl under his desk. Still hunched over, he typed a reply. Yes.

  Excellent. Do I hear wedding bells?

  Valentyn swore under his breath in Ukrainian.