Spring Fever: A Four Seasons Novel

by Geneva Lee

  “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 blanked as my heart pounded in my chest.

  “It’s funny,” he continued, brushing his mouth over my bare skin and stopping at my ear. “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 past my lashes. 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 tried to fight it when I thought it might hurt him. Now that there was nothing standing in our way, I don’t know why I ever thought I could. This was forever. 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 me, promises on our tongues and stars over our heads.

  Chapter 30

  The next morning I stood at the foot of Aba’s bed in a pale yellow dress, clutching a bright bouquet of red roses and other tony blossoms. We bought from the same street vendor who had threatened to have me arrested a few months ago after Cassie tore up his magazine stand. It felt like a good omen. Then, we’d managed to find inexpensive silver bands from another shop. 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. The doctors teased Roman in Spanish, elbowing him in the ribs good-naturedly. The chaplain had arranged for an expedited license so we could be married as quickly as possible. In a place that usually saw so much sickness and death, everyone was 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. He stood across from me 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. He could have added any number of ridiculous conditions and I would have agreed. I couldn’t wait to be his wife.

  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 he made a promise, but it wasn’t until he surprised me by stepping forward and reaching for me 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 in December. In fact, when we get back to Olympic Falls, remind me to send Cassie’s ex a thank you note for being a jerk.”

  We both laughed at this, which gave me a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of tears I’d been fighting all morning.

  “I thought once I could move on—that life without you was possible. I was wrong. When Jillian texted me weeks ago and I said you needed me, the only fear I felt was that I had let you down. 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 apart, breathless, I saw the same wonder reflected in his 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 if Jillian 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 all day, I slipped from my husband’s side and sat down next to Aba. She took my hand, her strong fingers 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 her 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 she 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 complete.

  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 her on the cheek and said, “I promise.”

  “Leave! 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 of 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 threaded 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 have cared 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 we’d arrived. Roman tossed way too much money at him which elicited an enthusiastic thanks and the driver’s business card.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Markson,” the British 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.

  “We are so happy to hear of your marriage,” she said. “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. I had promised Lillian I wouldn’t get pregnant. That meant I needed some supplies.

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

  “The villa is ready for you. We can show you where they are 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.

  “Which one of your friends do we owe this upgrade to?” he asked as he slid the key into the lock.

  “I didn’t tell anyone,” I said slowly, confusion creeping into my happy stupor. “I thought you told the hotel.”

  “It didn’t occur to me. All I could think about was getting a ring on your finger,” he admitted 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, already considering hyphenation. “Not in the least.”

  Chapter 31

  Rose petals had been sprinkled over the bed and the sheets had been turned down. 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, reaching 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.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I will?”

  “For one thing, there’s no rule against being married to a student. And for another, immediate family of faculty receive a discount in the tuition department.”

  “Too bad you aren’t faculty,” I said.

  “I will be next year. They offered me a position as a junior professor.”

  “And you didn’t tell me this?” I asked, sitting up in bed.

  “With everything going on with Aba, I forgot.” He shrugged his shoulders, and my own face fell. He wasn’t excited about it.

  “Do you need to stay here?” I asked.

  “There’s no job here,” he said, “and no tuition reduction for my wife.”

  “I don’t need your help with money.”

  “You’re my wife,” he pointed out.

  “If you think I can’t take care of myself—”

  “Hold on, Jess. I never said that. The fact is that we’ll be living together and sharing expenses. I don’t expect to support you, but I do plan on helping. We’ve got to get you through medical school,” he said.

  I set my jaw, staring up at him. “I can pay my own bills.”

  “I know that,” he said. “You just don’t have to do it alone anymore. Compromise, remember? Besides, my pay won’t go very far. You’ll still get the pleasure of taking out student loans.”

  I scrambled to my feet and kissed him on the cheek. “How exciting.”

  “Where are you going?” he caught my hand as I turned away from him.

  “The bathroom,” I said. “So I don’t have to leave that bed for another five hours.”

  “Sounds promising and ambitious.” He paused and shifted on his feet. “Did you remember to…”

  I reached for my purse and held it up. My diaphragm was tucked safely inside it. “Reason number two to go to the bathroom.”

  Roman stretched out and caught me around the waist, laying a gentle hand on my stomach. “Someday. But let’s get you through med school first, okay?”

&
nbsp; I gave him a small smile, grateful that he understood how I felt. I wanted a family with Roman more than anything. But I wanted him to myself for a while first. In the bathroom, I took care of business and then rummaged in my purse for my lipgloss. My phone was blinking a new message and I slid the lock screen.

  JILLIAN: You aren’t going to believe what I have to tell you.

  You aren’t going to believe me either, I thought. If I texted her right now that I was married, she would think it was a practical joke until I got home with a ring on my finger. Strike that. I would probably have to show her the marriage license and produce the chaplain along with a Holy Bible for him to swear on. I thought I might feel nervous post-wedding, but instead my tummy did an excited flip, sending a rush dancing through my skin.

  I tapped to read my next message.

  CASSIE: Keeping out of trouble?

  It was her voice in my head as I read the text, complete with her coy, knowing tone. I glanced around the bathroom and thought about it. It couldn’t have been coincidence that Roman and I were back in the same villa we’d spent our first night together in. I didn’t know how she’d pulled it off or how she even knew we had gotten married, but I wasn’t surprised. She’d probably called half of Mexico to check up on me, including the street vendor who sold us my wedding bouquet. I’d have to bribe her to find out how she knew, but my gut told me this was all her doing.

  I sent them both back a message saying I had a surprise for them, too.

  I checked my hair and brushed my teeth and was surprised to discover that I was nervous. It wasn’t like it was my first time, except it was my first time as a married woman. My reflection rolled her eyes. I glanced at my sundress and decided it wasn’t quite sexy enough for my waiting husband. Stripping it off left me in my bra and panties. I’d never really walked out to Roman in anything that could remotely pass for lingerie. Not that this could. I tugged off my bra and turned around in the mirror. Its removal seemed to improve things. After a minute, I stripped my panties, too.