Paper Wedding, Best-Friend Bride

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  He said, “I should buy you a ruby for here. Or a colored diamond, like what’s in the earrings I gave you.”

  “No, you shouldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it will only remind us of what we did tonight.”

  Damn, he thought. She was right. Giving her another jewel would be a mistake. “I won’t do it. I won’t buy you anything else.” He thought about the cuff links she’d given him and the groomlike way they’d made him feel. “You can’t buy me anything else, either.”

  She played with the ends of his hair. “I don’t intend to.”

  “Good.” He pushed her legs open and went down on her, kissing and licking and swirling his tongue.

  She gasped and arched her hips, watching him through the misty light, telling him how much she liked it.

  How good it felt.

  How she never wanted it to end.

  But it did end, with her shaking and shivering and coming all over his mouth.

  She insisted on doing it to him, too, on giving him the same kind of lethal pleasure he’d just given her. He let her work her magic, his body responding in thick, hard greed.

  But when it became too much for him to handle, he grabbed a condom, anxious to thrust inside.

  He entered her, and they kissed warmly and fully, the sweetness of her lips drawing him deeper.

  Locked together, they rolled over the sheets, and within no time, Lizzie was straddling him, her hair falling forward and framing her face. He gripped her waist as she traveled up and down, riding him quickly, fiercely.

  They shifted again, bending and moving. He was behind her now, nibbling her neck and pumping like a stallion.

  It didn’t stop there. They swiveled onto their sides, kissed like crazy, then returned to where they’d begun, with Max braced above her.

  Driving her toward a skyrocketing orgasm, he pushed her to the limit, making sure she came again.

  And finally, finally, when she was in the throes of making primal sounds and clawing his back, he let himself fall.

  Into the hot, hammering thrill of his wedding night.

  * * *

  In the morning, Lizzie awakened next to her husband. He was still asleep, the sheet bunched around his hips.

  Should she gather her things and tiptoe off to her room? No, she thought. That would make her feel cheap, dashing down the hall, clutching her wedding gown.

  The least she could do was find something to wear. She climbed out of bed and put on her panties. From there, she went to Max’s giant walk-in closet, where his dresser was, and rummaged through the drawers.

  The only belongings Lizzie had brought with her were in a suitcase that she’d left in her room. Later today, they were leaving on their honeymoon, jetting off to Nulah to start the adoption proceedings, and she wasn’t moving into Max’s mansion, not officially, until they got back.

  She kept digging through his dresser, trying to decide what to borrow. Keeping it simple, she went for a black T-shirt and gray sweat shorts. She had to roll the waistband of the shorts down to her hips to make them fit, but it was better than just being in her panties. Rather than leave the hem of the T-shirt hanging, she twisted the material into a center knot and tied it below her bust.

  Lizzie gazed at her reflection in the closet mirror, enjoying the way his clothes felt against her skin.

  She frowned at her seductively smudged eye makeup and sleep-tousled hair. Nothing had changed in the light of day. She was still afraid of falling in love with him.

  Determined to sneak off as quickly as she could, she exited his closet, hoping he remained asleep. But he was awake and was sitting up in bed.

  He squinted at her. “What are you doing, pretty Lizard?”

  “I borrowed some of your clothes.” She stated the obvious, wishing her nickname didn’t sound so endearing on his lips.

  “So I see.” He swept his gaze over her. “And how stylish you look in them, too.”

  While he studied her, she glanced at the scars on his chest, trapped in the memory of the well-intentioned touch he’d rebuffed. The solace he’d refused. She forced herself to look away from the scars, not wanting him to catch her doing it.

  Would he rebuff her love, too? She hoped that she never had to find out.

  He said, “I could use some breakfast. How about you?”

  She wasn’t the least bit hungry, but she replied, “Sure. I can fix it while you shower or whatever.” She needed to bathe, too, but she wasn’t ready to strip off her clothes. Or his clothes, as it were. She wanted to wear them a little longer.

  “I’ll shower after we eat.” He got out of bed and took his tuxedo pants from the chair where he’d left them. Same chair where her dress was. “I can help you make the food.”

  He climbed into the pants, sans underwear. Of all things he could have worn this morning, he’d chosen to go commando in his wedding attire? He threw on the formal shirt, too, leaving it unbuttoned with the tails loose.

  “No point in wasting a perfectly good suit,” he said. “After all, I did buy the dang thing.”

  “Yes, you did.” But most men wouldn’t treat a pricey tuxedo as if it was casual gear. But Max wasn’t most men.

  He glanced toward his bathroom. “I’m going to brush my teeth before we go downstairs.”

  She tried for a smile. “So you can be minty fresh before breakfast? I should do that, too.”

  He smiled, as well. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

  When he was gone, Lizzie scooped up her gown, wrapping her shoes and stockings and jewelry inside it.

  Once she was in her room, she deposited the bundle on her bed and went into her bathroom to brush her teeth. She washed her face, too, removing the remnants of her makeup. She also tamed her hair, taking a few minutes to get her emotional bearing.

  Still wearing Max’s clothes, she ventured downstairs and entered the kitchen. He was already there, removing pots and pans from cabinets. He had a carafe of coffee going, too.

  She pitched in, and with minimal conversation they fixed ham, eggs and steel-cut oatmeal.

  They sat across from each other at the main dining table, and Max drizzled honey over his cereal. Lizzie preferred hers with milk. But what struck her was how intently they were watching each other eat.

  “Are you ready for our trip?” he asked.

  Their big, fat, fake honeymoon, she thought. “Yes,” she replied. “Are you?”

  He nodded, but he didn’t look any more ready than she was.

  * * *

  Since Nulah was twenty hours ahead of Los Angeles, Max and Lizzie arrived in time to hang out on the beach and swim in the crystal-blue sea. They tried to behave like newlyweds whenever other people were around. But mostly they kept to themselves, so they didn’t have to make it harder than it already was. But either way, being in each other’s company was absolute torture.

  And so were their accommodations, Max thought.

  Their bungalow was similar to the ones they’d stayed in before, with wonderful island amenities. The only difference this time was that they were sharing the same space.

  Bedtime rolled around far too soon. Lizzie changed in the bathroom, putting on a long cotton nightgown. Max suspected it was the most modest thing she owned. But that didn’t stop him from noticing how gracefully it flowed over her body.

  “I can sleep on the couch,” he said.

  The couch was adjacent to the bed, as the main area of the bungalow was basically one big room. Even if he wasn’t sleeping with her, he would be within tempting distance. But there was nothing either of them could do about that.

  “All I need is a sheet,” he said. “Sometimes I get hot when I sleep.” He didn’t mean “hot” in a sexual way, but it triggered sweet, slick memories of thei
r wedding night.

  Apparently for her, too. She shot him a dicey look.

  A second later, she composed herself and removed the top sheet from the bed, gathering it for him. He took it from her, and she handed him a pillow, as well.

  “We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow,” she said.

  Max nodded. In the morning they would be going to the orphanage. “I hope Losa lets us see Tokoni. When I spoke with her earlier she said that she wasn’t sure if we should see him on this trip.”

  Lizzie frowned. “Why not?”

  “Typically she waits until the process is further along before she lets applicants spend more time with the child they are trying to adopt. She says it can get too emotional later if something goes wrong or if the applicants change their minds.”

  “We would never change our minds.” She got into bed, but she didn’t lie down. She sat forward and pulled the covers over her legs.

  “I know. But that’s just how she does it.”

  He settled onto the couch, plumping the pillow behind him. Neither of them turned out the light. They gazed at each other from across the room. The windows were open, with a tropical breeze stirring the curtains.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before now?” Lizzie asked.

  “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I know how badly you want to see Tokoni. How you were looking forward to his big, bright smile and giving him a hug. I want to do that, too.”

  Concern etched her brow, signaling another frown. “I hope she lets us see him. We’ve been waiting all this time.”

  “Yeah, planning a wedding, getting married. We’ve been to hell and back to become his parents.” He made a tight face. “Sorry, that didn’t sound very nice.”

  “I knew what you meant. It would have been so much easier if we could have stayed single and still adopted him.”

  “But that isn’t how it worked out.” He glanced down at his hand. “It’s strange wearing a ring.”

  “You think you’ve got troubles?” She waggled her fingers, showing off her ruby. “Look at me, hauling this gigantic bauble around.”

  He laughed a little. “I’m surprised you didn’t sink to the bottom of the ocean today.”

  A laugh erupted from her, too. “Good thing I didn’t or you would’ve had to rescue me.”

  “Me performing CPR on you would have been a disaster.” He smiled, winked, made another joke. “Mouth-to-mouth and all that.”

  She shook her head, and in the next uncomfortable instant, they both went silent. No more smiles. No more laughter. Their silly banter wasn’t helping.

  “We should try to sleep now,” she said. “I just hope that I don’t keep you awake, with the way I might be tossing and turning.”

  “I’m probably going to be restless, too.” Being in the same room with her, knowing she was just a forbidden kiss away. But in the morning, they would get past it. Because all that mattered was doing what they’d come here to do.

  To make Tokoni their son.

  * * *

  Lizzie and Max sat across from Losa in her office, but their meeting wasn’t going well. Something didn’t feel right, Lizzie thought. Even though she and Max had been prattling on about their wedding and how excited they were to adopt Tokoni, Losa seemed cautious of them.

  In fact, she watched their every move, as if she were analyzing their body language. By now, Lizzie was so nervous that she kept glancing out the window, avoiding eye contact. Max seemed anxious, too. He shifted in his seat, like a kid who’d gotten called into the principal’s office for committing a schoolyard crime.

  Did Losa suspect that their marriage was a ruse? And if she did, why hadn’t she said something before now? Why had she allowed them to continue the charade, letting them believe that they were being considered for the adoption?

  Losa asked Lizzie, “Do you remember what I told you when you first interviewed me for your blog?”

  “You told me a lot of things,” she responded, getting more nervous by the minute. “I used a lot of it in the articles I wrote.”

  “Yes, you did. But what did I say about our guidelines and what’s the most important character trait we look for in prospective parents?”

  Lizzie’s heart dropped to her stomach. “That they must be honorable people.”

  Max spoke up. “Are you questioning our character, Losa?”

  The older woman turned toward him. “Yes, unfortunately, I am. When you first called me and said that you’d fallen in love and were getting married, I was concerned about the speed in which it seemed to be happening. But I gave you the benefit of the doubt, wanting to believe that your feelings were genuine and you weren’t just playacting so you could adopt Tokoni.”

  Max’s dark skin paled a little. But he said, “We’re going to be the best parents we can be. We intend to devote the rest of our lives to Tokoni.”

  “Yes, but you don’t intend to devote the rest of your lives to each other, do you?” She turned her attention to Lizzie. “I could tell from the moment you walked into my office today that you weren’t a true bride. I know the difference between a happily married woman and one who is finding it difficult. You can barely look at your husband without having shadows in your eyes.”

  Lizzie gripped the edge of the desk. Not only were she and Max on the verge of losing Tokoni, but Losa was calling her out, baiting her to admit that the marriage wasn’t real. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t say it out loud, not when she was so painfully afraid of falling in love with Max. “Please don’t take Tokoni away from us.”

  “How can I allow you to adopt him,” Losa replied, “when your actions haven’t been honorable?”

  Max interjected. “It isn’t fair of you to say that.”

  “Isn’t it?” Losa asked, challenging him to come clean. “Tell me, what were you going to do once the adoption was approved? Were you going to divorce your wife and create a broken home for your son? I want to know the truth, Max, and I want it now.”

  “All right,” he said. “We are going to split up. But we aren’t creating a broken home, not in the way you’re implying. After the divorce, Lizzie and I planned to raise Tokoni in separate households, but we also planned to co-parent him with love and devotion. Both of us, together, as friends.”

  Losa blew out a heavy sigh. “That’s not what Tokoni’s mother wanted for him.”

  “I know.” Max continued to defend their position. “But we couldn’t bear to lose him, so we devised a way to make him our son. We can make the divorce work and still give Tokoni everything he needs.”

  Losa asked Lizzie, “Are you as certain about the divorce as Max is?”

  Lizzie’s grip on the desk tightened. She’d been wondering what it would be like to stay with her husband, to be the only woman in his life, and now she was being asked if dismantling their marriage was the right thing to do. She couldn’t think, couldn’t rationalize, not with him watching her from the corner of his eye. When he reached over, drawing her hand away from the desk and encouraging her to support the divorce, she knew that her worst fear had just come true.

  That she loved him.

  Absolutely, positively loved him.

  What an awful time to figure it out, to see through the veil of her own heart. But she couldn’t admit how she felt, not without destroying what was left of their friendship, so she lied and said, “Yes, I’m as certain about the divorce as he is.”

  Losa measured her. “So you honestly believe that it won’t cause any problems later?”

  “Yes,” Lizzie lied again.

  The older woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I disagree.” She then told Max, “Neither of you is ready to be a parent.”

  His expression all but splintered. But in spite of his distress, Lizzie could tell that he wasn’t giving up without a
fight.

  He said to Losa, “I understand how upset you are about our deception, and I apologize for leading you on. But we are ready to be Tokoni’s parents. We love him and believe that he’s meant to be our son.”

  Losa adjusted her glasses. “I’m not denying that either of you loves the boy. I know you do.” She spoke with strength and careful diction. “I wish things could be different, but I won’t go against his mother’s wishes or subject him to a broken home. There’s another couple who’s interested in him, and I’m going to consider their application in place of yours.”

  Oh, God. Lizzie pitched forward in her chair. Losa wasn’t just denying their application. She was thinking of giving Tokoni to someone else.

  “Who are they?” Max asked, firing a round of questions at her. “And how long ago did they apply? Do we know them? Are they someone who contacted you through our efforts to find Tokoni a home? Or are they a local couple?”

  “I can’t discuss them with you,” Losa said. She sounded weary now, troubled that she was hurting Max and Lizzie, but determined to abide by her decision.

  “Whoever they are, they won’t be us,” he said. He looked at Lizzie, his voice quaking. “They’ll never be us.”

  She could see that his heart was breaking. Hers was, too. Everything inside her was shattering, cutting her in two.

  Lizzie got up and ran out of the orphanage. Once she was outside, she burst into tears.

  No child. No husband to keep. Only fractured love.

  Max soon followed her. He wasn’t crying. But he was shaking, his chest heaving through ragged breaths. He reached for her, and she collapsed in his arms.

  More lost than she’d ever been.

  Eleven

  Feeling horribly, sickeningly numb, Max stared at the beach, where the sky met the sea, where peace and beauty were supposed to reign. But all he saw was emptiness.

  He glanced over at Lizzie. She sat beside him on their bungalow deck, curled up in her chair, her knees drawn to her chest. After they’d left the orphanage, she’d dried her tears, but her eyes were still swollen, her mascara still softly smudged.