The Professor's Green Card Marriage Read online

  Meow.

  Love,

  Your Petrush

  FROM: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: new email, still me

  Ya kokhayu tebe.

  Go to sleep, sonečko.

  FROM: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: new email, still me

  You love me… and I’m a ladybug?

  FROM: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: new email, still me

  I love you, and you’re my little sun.

  Don’t use Google Translate. I’ll teach you Ukrainian.

  FROM: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: new email, still me

  Davaj odružimosâ!

  I found that on a website so I’m really hoping it says what I mean it to say.

  FROM: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: new email, still me

  You think if you propose to me in Ukrainian I’ll accept faster? It might be true. I’ll marry you if the breve and the kiss are as good as you promise.

  FROM: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: new email, still me

  They’ll be so good you’ll want to marry me on the spot.

  I won’t email again because I want you to get some sleep. But I’ll take those Ukrainian lessons.

  Good night, Valechko.

  FROM: [email protected]

  To: [email protected]

  Subject: new email, still me

  Good night, Petrush. Sleep well and I’ll see you in the morning.

  Chapter Seven

  “SO did you meet up with the coffee shop kid?”

  Valentyn, eating a soup and sandwich from the campus deli in Dennis’s office, paused midbite.

  Raising his eyebrows, Dennis crossed his leg over his knee and threaded his fingers over his chest. “Quite a reaction. Please elaborate.”

  There was no point in trying to hide anything from Dennis when he was in a mood. Pressing his hands together in front of his mouth, Valentyn drew a breath, then dove in. “I went to discuss things with him after he got off work last night, and instead we ended up fucking.”

  “Nice. Your place or his?”

  “You misunderstand. We did it in the coffee shop. At my usual table, in fact. I’ll never be able to grade another paper again there.”

  Dennis wolf-whistled. “Damn. All right. So… I assume you’re tied in knots because now you want to fuck him dirty on the regular, but as usual you can’t get past your hang-up that romantic relationships should have clinical, no-nonsense sex? And to make it worse, he’s actually willing to marry you, something you desperately need?”

  Valentyn pursed his lips. “I don’t think romantic relationships should have clinical sex.”

  “Sure, you tell yourself whatever you need to. Outside of that offensive bluntness of phrasing, do you object to anything else? Am I wrong?”

  He wasn’t, not even about the clinical sex remark—which stung—but Valentyn would be damned if he acknowledged it directly. He changed the subject. “He writes incredibly persuasive texts and emails.”

  “I’ll bet he does.” Dennis propped his elbow on his desk and leaned into his palm. “Given the way you keep blushing, he must be dynamite in bed. Or rather, on table.”

  Valentyn let out a heavy sigh. “Dennis, he’s exquisite. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to fuck him harder or weep at his feet.”

  “Please, please tell me he swings.” When Valentyn bristled, Dennis laughed. “You’re possessive. Oh, honey. You must be a mess.”

  “I keep trying to put this thing into some kind of rational box and all it does is get worse. I encouraged him to call me the familiar diminutive of my name in email last night after copious amounts of vodka, and I told him I loved him. In Ukrainian. Then repeated it in English.” He threw up his hands and sank deeper into the chair, terror swirling around him.

  Dennis had no empathy, only grinned wider. “God, this is so delicious. I want to meet this kid.” When Valentyn glared at him, he amended, “Young man. Except honestly, Val, once you pass forty-five, everybody under thirty is a damn kid to you.”

  “I don’t know if he wants to meet you. Well, no. I can’t say that for sure. If we were to stop by now—” He cut himself off, blushing hotly as he remembered that morning, the way Peter had melted him with a brush of fingers against the pulse at his wrist. How he’d dragged Valentyn into the kitchen, pressed him against the wall, and fucked into his mouth with his tongue.

  The breve had been excellent too. As promised.

  Dennis sighed happily. “I honestly love seeing you like this. It’s the best show in the world.”

  Valentyn flipped him off absently. “I could handle it if there weren’t issues with my immigration status. In fact, I made an appointment with the dean to try to get him to reapply for me.”

  “Except will the application come back in time?” Dennis’s expression grew serious. “I’ve been doing research. Apparently part of the reason you’re struggling with this is a huge change with how they process all visas.”

  Valentyn’s gut tightened. “I know. My immigration lawyer said the same thing to me.”

  “My point is, the employment visa route has all kinds of risks now. I still think you’re going to have an easier time of things because you’re not brown, but if you apply for a work visa, get denied twice, then show up conveniently married, you’re going to have a rougher time of things. They want to see proof of a marriage. That means they want actual receipts. Photos, licenses, proof you’re living together, vacationing together, being a couple together. If they think you’re not genuine, then it’s really over. This guy might be the golden ticket, because you could potentially be a real married couple by the time you get to the interview.”

  “Yes, but what you’re telling me is that I need to marry him as soon as possible. What if it falls apart? What if we despise each other but have to stay together to keep me from being deported?”

  “Look, you’ve got three options. Marry him, marry someone else, or go back to Ukraine. Can you see yourself marrying somebody other than your Peter? Rather, let me rephrase. Can you see yourself marrying someone other than Peter while you’re chasing down this rush of feeling you have going for him?”

  Valentyn tried to honestly consider it. However, his body still hummed from that kiss. “No.”

  “Then I’m pretty sure you’re marrying him.”

  “Fuck,” Valentyn murmured and hunched forward, pressing his arms against his abdomen.

  Dennis rubbed his shoulder. “You’ll be okay. Just ride it for now. I mean, you probably want to close the deal in the next few weeks, a month at most, but for now, just keep getting to know him, let him get familiar with you. I assume you have plans to meet again?”

  “We’re going to go into the mountains tomorrow. He has the day off, and since it’s Saturday, I do too. He has some family thing tonight, so we’ll just email and text.”

  “There you go.” He sat back in his chair. “I know you crave control unless you specifically surrender it in certain settings. Figure out a new way to feel like you have a grip on the reins. It might be that you fizzle out as a romantic couple but stay friends, that he helps you because he cares about you the way I do. You can aim for that result too. This doesn’t have to make you freeze up.”

  Valentyn knew all this. And yet…. “I’m scared, Dennis.”

  “I know, hon.” Dennis rolled his chair closer and kissed Valentyn gently on the forehead, ruffling his hair. “I know.”

  THOUGH his mother had all but forced him to move to Boulder, Peter was, in fact, grateful for the nudge.

  Various people, including one therapi
st, had suggested his mother was the reason for his SM. While he would concede she didn’t always help, she was well-meaning and in no way anything but supportive. Their struggle, though, had always been that she was too involved. Or perhaps it was simply that her intensity and his need to approach in-person social situations with caution clashed in the worst ways. Whenever he had an issue, she seemed to know even if he didn’t tell her. She couldn’t not react, absolutely had to try to fix it. She lived her own life waking up every morning deciding who and what to set on fire and how. It had never been a good mix for Peter. Living on his own, though, had proved to be a mistake. It had been fine, right up until it wasn’t, and by the time his mother forced the building supervisor at his apartment complex to open his door, he hadn’t eaten in two days and was mostly curled up in his bed. He’d improved with meds and some time with his mother, but not enough.

  Enter Helen and Joe.

  He’d always had a good relationship with his aunt and uncle and their kids, and he mostly didn’t mind working at Procaffeination. It had felt like a huge demotion to go from data entry and comparison at a Denver company to washing dishes, wiping tables, and making coffee, but he was happier here and less anxious because every night he went home to people he could talk to, who supported him without aggravating his SM. His favorites in the family were his young cousins, who took his SM in stride. When they were younger and he’d visited, at a point each of them had asked why he didn’t say anything when they left the house, and had only nodded and moved on when their mom had explained. They liked helping him in public, holding his hand and being his voice when necessary.

  Aunt Helen was a lot younger than Uncle Joe, and they’d only been married ten years. Their kids were four, six, and nine, two boys and a girl respectively. Sadie was quiet at school but boisterous at home—she didn’t have SM, but she did take some time to warm up to strangers. At every parent-teacher conference, the teachers talked about how she never said a word, and Helen and Joe would stare and shake their heads. In contrast, the younger two, Dayton and Kyle, had zero fear. If they went out into the front yard to play, Helen always shouted after them, “Do not play in the street!” and they needed the reminder.

  Friday nights had always been family night, even when Peter came to visit, but since he’d arrived, they’d become more pointed. Joe made sure Peter never had a shift then, and the family worked hard to include him in the choice of group activity. Even the kids wouldn’t let him defer to them. “What do you want, Peter?” they always asked. Sometimes the family watched movies, but other times they played games. Before Peter had arrived, the family had often gone out on family night, but they were firmly homebound now. When Peter tried to insist they shouldn’t change their pattern for him, Joe had brushed this thought aside. “You’re family too. When you feel more settled in, we can talk about it, but for now, family night is at home.”

  Peter did appreciate their consideration. When they stayed at home together, he was completely relaxed—not quite as relaxed as the rest of them, but still at ease enough to participate in conversations.

  That is to say, normally he was relaxed. In the hours before family night, all he could think of was how he had plans to go into the mountains with Valentyn the next day and that he needed to explain this new relationship to his aunt and uncle.

  He didn’t know how he was going to do it. Even if he had them on the other end of an email, he’d struggle. They weren’t going to understand. They’d want to know how he met this person, why this was all happening so suddenly. Their safe space felt a little stifling.

  It helped nothing that Valentyn had been unavailable until only a little while ago, and Peter wanted to text him frantically before family time meant he had to put away his phone. He also didn’t want to overwhelm the man, because he already knew he was coming on like a hurricane. It was just that he was so afraid he was going to close off on him or put him at a distance. Every instinct in him screamed to keep contact.

  What are you up to tonight? he asked Valentyn after their small talk came to a lull.

  Laundry, I think. Though Dennis made noise about taking me out.

  White-hot jealousy filled Peter. He searched for something cavalier to say, but could only blurt out, Oh. Well, have fun.

  Valentyn typed a sly smile emoji. Did I mention Dennis was married? To a woman? She’s quite lovely.

  You did. But I get this funny feeling. As soon as he sent the text, he regretted it. Ignore me. I’m just broody because I’m not in the mood for family night.

  He panicked when Valentyn took a while to even start typing. Eventually something came through. Well, at some point I should probably explain about Dennis. I think, though, I’m going to have to do that one in person. I think me saying this will make you nervous, though, so I’ll give you a summary by assuring you that you have nothing to worry about. Dennis and I aren’t romantically involved and never will be.

  Yes, but are you going to have sex with him tonight? That was way too risky, but Peter had to ask or he’d be climbing the walls.

  No. I have in the past. That’s not information he shares, though. His wife is aware and has occasionally been a participant, though not with me. A pause, then a quick reply. Dammit, I just told you most of it. What kind of sorcery do you work on me?

  Sorry, I didn’t mean to push.

  You did. But I find, to my surprise, I don’t really mind.

  Helen stuck her head through his door, which he’d left ajar, so it was his own fault. “Peter, put your phone away and come have dinner.”

  Pursing his lips, Peter clutched the sides of the device. “I’ll come in a minute.”

  “Family time starts now. Your boyfriend can wait.”

  Peter looked up sharply. That hadn’t been a joke. Sorry, I gotta go. Will text you later. Please ignore my jealousy and go have fun. But please don’t have sex with anyone but me. He tossed the phone upside down and looked back at his aunt. “How did you know?”

  “Well, the hickeys you not-so-successfully tried to hide were my first clue. My foundation is a significantly different shade than your skin. Then Amy approached Joe all worried because she saw them too, and you apparently dragged some guy into the kitchen. It didn’t take Miss Marple to solve that one.”

  Peter touched his neck self-consciously. The news about Amy made him cold inside. “It’s not her business.”

  “I know. That’s what your uncle told her. I assume the way I march my children to Pride every September has made it clear I don’t care who you date, so I expect you to bring him around when you’re serious. Until then, you’re an adult who gets to make his own decisions. But you still have to come to family night. It’s the only rent I ask for.”

  “You’re not going to ask me about him?”

  “I’d be happy to hear anything you want to share. But am I going to fuss over you the way your mother does and borderline infantilize you because I think you’re too fragile to exist? No, because I don’t think that helps you at all. I know how to read you. If you’re in trouble, I’ll know.”

  Peter felt a warmth and ease he hadn’t known he’d been craving. “He’s a professor at CU. We’re going to go hiking in the mountains tomorrow.”

  She nodded. “Sounds fun. Where are you headed?”

  “Unclear. I’d love to go to Rocky Mountain National Park, but I don’t know how much hiking he’s done.”

  “Well, you’ve been wandering into worse wilderness than that since you were little, so I have no worries there either. If you spend the night out of the house, please text to let us know so I don’t worry. Other than that, be smart, safe, and have fun.”

  God, was Peter going to cry? She didn’t judge him, didn’t question his ability, but supported him, all at once. He straightened his shoulders and blinked. “Thanks, Aunt Helen.”

  She tapped a nonexistent watch on her wrist. “I’ll give you three and a half minutes, and then I’m sending the kids to get you.”

  He grinned at he
r. “I’ll be along in two.”

  With a nod, she closed his door.

  Smile still stretching his face, he picked up his phone again, where a message from Valentyn waited.

  You can be jealous all you want. I’m a little surprised, but I’m fond of it. Though I do feel a bit naked now that I told you about Dennis. And no, I will not have sex with anyone but you.

  Peter’s heart fluttered. Don’t feel naked. I get it. He’s hot.

  It’s entirely sex with him, and usually only when, as he puts it, I get “twisted up in my head.” Sex helps me unwind. And he has… talents.

  So do you. I’m happy to help you unwind tomorrow as many times as you like.

  Koshenya, I don’t care for family night. Because I would like to unwind now.

  He was still grinning and trying to figure out what suggestive thing to reply with when the door to his room opened and three giggling children leapt onto his bed. He laughed too, and holding his phone out of their reach, typed, So sorry really have to go now too many kids attacking me love you.

  Then he set his phone on the charging pad and let his family drag him into their fun.

  Chapter Eight

  PETER was sitting on the front porch of his uncle’s house when Valentyn pulled up.

  They’d texted a lot that morning, planning out the day and setting up some practical safeguards. Valentyn had his aunt and uncle’s phone numbers and would call them if for some reason Peter went into a state where he couldn’t communicate or signal and Valentyn needed help navigating him out of it. They’d discussed where they planned to go, down to the bathroom stops, and Valentyn had suggested a picnic lunch so they didn’t have to deal with crowds. They were heading to Rocky Mountain National Park after all, where they planned to hike and in general enjoy the scenery. Valentyn promised to talk, even though Peter wouldn’t say much, and if need be, Valentyn would move out of sight range so they could text. This was all contingent on cellular being strong enough in the mountains, which could be a highly uncertain variable.