Ever since that night, that fateful night when Max came back from the future, Liz had been haunted by one thing.  Vegas.  Her wedding.  The marriage that never happened, and from the way that things were going between Max and Tess, one that may never happen.  Liz rolled over onto her stomach and sighed.  Sleep was hard coming tonight.  She had a history exam the next day; thoughts of Max were the last thing she needed right now.  But they still wouldn’t leave her.  We drove to Vegas, Future Max had told her.  We spent the whole night singing and dancing in some dive outside of Phoenix, and at the end of the night, “I Shall Believe” came on the radio.  The words echoed in her head.  We had a great wedding.  And her own, in response, I’m not gonna have that day . . . No, you won’t.

Liz turned back over onto her back.  She tried to banish the thoughts from her mind, but they wouldn’t leave.  They flitted through her head and made their presence known like a buzzing fly trapped inside a room at night.  History, she told herself sternly.  The civil war began in . . . in . . . I know this!  She flipped on the light.  Her history book was sitting on her nightstand.  She grabbed it, and flipped quickly though its worn pages, nearly ripping them in her frustration.  1861.  She slammed the book closed again, and turned off the light.  She had known all that just a few hours ago.  What was it about Max that made her forget everything else?  Why did her life have to be so unbelievably complicated?  The words of her Grandma Claudia came back to her, “if it isn't complicated, he probably isn't a soul mate.”  Okay, so Max is my soul mate . . . So what?  So I’m supposed to sit around and watch him make the biggest mistake of his life?

It was a long time before sleep came that night, and when it did, the dream she had was one that she would never forget . . .

“Max?” Liz said suddenly from her position leaning against Max on the lounge room couch in one of the Las Cruces University dorms, Liz’s dorm.

“Hmm?”  Max paused in fingering Liz’s short hair to look down at her.

She sat up a little.  “Why don’t we just do it?” she said, a smile playing on her lips.

“Do what?” Max asked, almost unnecessarily.  He sensed what she was about to say before she said it.  It was a skill they had both picked up in the years they had been together.  A skill that came as naturally to him as breathing, so in tune to each other were they.

Liz laughed softly.  “Let’s go to Vegas.”  She snuggled against him once more and looked up at him with her big doe eyes to see his response.

“Liz,” Max said, being the voice of reason as always, “we’re 19.”

But Liz wouldn’t be deterred.  “And Romeo and Juliet were even younger.  Only 14, I think.  What does age matter?”  She grinned mischievously.  “Come on.  Do you want to?”

“Liz, ever since I knew you, there’s nothing I’ve wanted more than to have you be a permanent part of my life.  But are you sure you’re ready?”

“As sure as I am that I love you.”

Max kissed her softly on her forehead.  “When do you want to leave?” he said, a grin breaking out on his face.

Liz tucked a strand of short, dark hair behind her ear as she lowered herself to the floor of her dorm room.  She was almost nervous as she lifted the lid to the box in front of her, a flower print decorating its sides.  She wanted to finger through her memory box, the one she had put together after graduating from high school, one last time.  Her clothes lay in a heap on her bed next to her luggage.  She would sort through them later.  For now, she was engrossed in the memories the items in the box stirred in her.  She was about to take the biggest step in her life, though it seemed the easiest.  She just wanted to see how far she had come.

A worn-out black and white photo lay on top, showing a dead alien lying on the ground.  Really, it was a baby doll that had been left out in the sun too long, but that hadn’t stopped Liz from using it to give the tourists a little thrill – and earn her a few extra dollars in tips in the process – in the days that she worked for her father at the Crashdown Café.  In fact, she had used it just moments before that life-changing event.  Moments before Max Evans had to save her from a gunshot wound that threatened her life.  She put it quickly down again as the emotions the memory of that day threatened to overwhelm her.

Next in the pile was a series of pictures of her and Max taken in one of those cheap photo booths that always made its patrons act the goofiest in front of the automatic camera.  Two smiling faces beamed back at her in several of the shots.  In one, though, Max was sneakily giving Liz bunny ears.  In the next, Liz was slapping him playfully.  The pictures were taken a week before they (the four aliens, Liz, Maria, Alex and Kyle) graduated from high school, during the week that West Roswell High allowed its seniors to have off before the big event.  Liz had seen the booth and had convinced Max that the few dollars would be worth it, using a mixture of childlike excitement at the idea and strategically used puppy-dog faces to sway him.  With a faint smile at the memory, Liz set that too aside.

A faded newspaper clipping lay beneath the photos.  “Liz Parker, Winner of the KROZ Blind Dream Date” the bold heading proclaimed.  It had been a slow news day for the Roswell Gazette, evidently.  There was a story the paper didn’t record though.  A story she would never forget.  The image of Max, grinning proudly at her, slightly intoxicated though he was, dashed through her head.  It’s all just magic when I think of you, he had told her, making the streetlights dance like the patterned lights on a dance floor.  You’re my dream girl.   The night had ended too quickly, and Liz had found herself right back where she started when the effects of the alcohol wore off.

Liz dropped the clipping and moved on.  She lifted a stuffed envelope from the top of the pile.  A dried flower lay inside, leftover from the days early in their relationship when Max had given her flowers on a regular basis, to the jealousy and frustration of Maria.  Beneath that were ticket stubs to the Gomez concert.  She shuttered at the memory, as vivid as the day it happened, two years ago.  Then it was the ticket to her junior year prom, which was everything she’d ever hoped for and more.  On and on through the old memories she went as she lifted each new item from the box.

Liz was finally stirred from her nostalgic memories by the faint feel of lips on the top of her head.  So engrossed was she that she jumped at Max’s soft touch. “Ready?” he asked.  Behind him, the dorm room door was propped open by a painted brick, decorated clumsily with pink and blue flowers by Liz’s non-artistic hand.  They often left the door open during the day, allowing for Max to sometimes sneak in and surprise her, as he had this time.

“Ready?”  She parroted Max, but it was a moment before she worked out the meaning of the word.  “Oh!”  She looked at the pile of stuff on her bed and the empty bags next to them.  Her eyes then strayed to the tan suitcases next to Max.  “I’m sorry.  I lost track of the time.”  She jumped up quickly and started shoving her clothes into her navy gym bag.

“Liz!” Max said.  When she didn’t cease her frantic packing, he put a hand on her arm.  “Liz, it’s okay.  We have plenty of time.”

Liz stopped.  “Right,” she said, closing her eyes for a moment.  She gave Max an apologetic smile and tucked her hair once more behind her ears, a nervous habit she’d never been able to shake.  “I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, and then a secret smile came to his lips as he thought of something else.  “Isabel and Michael aren’t going to believe it either.”  He laughed at thought of their reaction.

“Oh, God,” she exclaimed.  “I forgot about everyone!  How could I forget?” she murmured, her hand flying up to rub her forehead.  Her eyes darted wildly around the small dorm room as if it would provide an answer.  While it didn’t provide an answer, it did offer a suggestion to remedy the problem as her eyes fell on the small black cordless phone she and her roommate, Serina, had purchased at the nearby Wal-Mart.

Three hours later, Liz fell exhausted on the bottom bunk.  She had debated for a while who to call first.  Maria, her best friend in the world, seemed the obvious choice, but given her ability to talk forever, especially when excited or emotional, Liz had been hesitant, thinking of the other phone calls she needed to make before the night was through.  Loyalty won out in the end though, and Liz had somehow managed to get off the phone with Maria after only two and a half hours of excited chattering.

Plans were made as Liz called the rest of the gang as well, Isabel, Michael, and Alex.  There had been much squealing, laughing, and a few curse words, but an overall sense of approval, surprisingly enough.  They would all meet halfway to Vegas, in a little café that Michael knew of in Arizona, tomorrow at noon.

Liz didn’t sleep a wink that night.  Her eyes kept wandering to the pile of luggage, faintly illuminated in the darkness by the digital clock on her nightstand.  Las Vegas.  She was really going.

They arrived in Las Vegas, in all its glitter and glory, as the sun was setting over the brightly lit city.  Liz was in awe of the fast-paced, exciting aura the city held amid the dancing lights and flashing signs.  She squeezed Max's hand and grinned as he looked over at her.  She was already counting down the hours.  23 and counting . . .

They found a relatively cheap – but nice – hotel, checked in, and unpacked, but once all the dull tasks were completed, they were off.  They split up, Max, Michael, and Alex in one group, with Liz, Maria, and Isabel in the second.  The split had been Michael’s idea.  He claimed every man needed a bachelor’s party.  Maria had rolled her eyes at that comment, but otherwise the girls consented to the break off.

Two hours later, and two dance clubs later, found Liz, Maria, and Isabel in the corner of a place called Charlie’s Bar and Grill, on the outskirts of town.  A pile of mozzarella sticks, chicken tenders, and onion rings lay before them.

“Maria, if I eat all this, how on Earth am I going to fit into my wedding dress tomorrow?” Liz had asked when Maria ordered the food.

“Don’t be silly,” Maria had responded with a wave of her hand.  “We’ll help.”

Isabel snickered, but didn’t say anything.

A half hour later, though, all three girls were digging in, any diets long since discarded.  “And get this:” Maria was practically shouting to be heard over the loud music, “Michael thinks that just because I agreed to take his sorry butt back that I’m just going to sit by and let him make all the decisions.  It’s my life too.”  She groaned.  “Welcome to Michael-land.”

Liz smiled.  Maria liked to pretend that she couldn’t stand Michael half the time, but Liz knew better.  Despite the fact that they fought more often than not, Liz knew that Michael and Maria’s relationship was just as strong and true as hers and Max’s.  That they would eventually make up was as inevitable as the sun rising each morning.  Max had told Liz once that Michael needed Maria like he needed the air he breathed, and every so often Liz would catch a stray look in Michael’s eyes as he looked at Maria that only reinforced that notion.

So Liz meant every word when she said, “It’ll all work out, Maria.  Don’t worry.”

“Yeah,” she said, looking like she only half believed the idea.  “Isabel, why don’t you try and talk some sense into your wayward brother?”

“Have you ever tried milking a steer?” Isabel asked with an innocent raise of her eyebrow.

At that, the table cracked up.  “Point taken,” Maria laughed.

The next morning the three girls were busy in search of the perfect dress in a small boutique that featured a vast array of wedding gowns and formal dresses for rental.  The guys had slept in, but whether it was from hangovers or simple exhaustion remained to be seen.  Liz knew all too well how easily drivers licenses could be changed with a simple touch of an alien hand.

“All right, I’m coming out,” Liz called from behind the velvet curtain of the dressing area.  “No laughing,” she warned as she had for the last four dresses.  She slipped out, smoothing the flowing white skirt with one gloved hand.  She looked up, hesitantly studying Maria’s face to gauge her reaction.  Of all the dresses she’d tried on that morning, she liked this one the best.  She was scared Maria and Isabel might not share her opinion.

“Oh, Lizzie,” Maria cooed, “It’s perfect.” 

Isabel also nodded her approval.  “The best so far.”

Beaming with pleasure that both her friends approved, Liz spun around, savoring the feeling of the soft fabric whispering against her legs as it lifted with the twirl.

“The shoes have got to go, though,” Isabel observed, looking pointedly at Liz’s run-down sneakers that looked completely out of place against the lacey whiteness of the wedding dress.

Liz half rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored the comment.  “It’s not too puffy?  And the gloves?  What do you think of them?”

“I already said it's perfect,” Maria said.  “What more do you want?”

Liz looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time.  She had to agree with Maria at that moment.  Her friends came up to stand beside her, admiring the dress.  Maria patted down and smoothed the flowing white skirt in a motherly way.  “I can’t believe you’re getting married,” she said.

“I can’t either.  It seems unreal.”

Maria grabbed Liz’s arm suddenly.  “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“What?  Maria, no!  Of course I’m not.”

Maria relaxed.  “Good . . . You would tell me if you were, wouldn’t you?”

Liz laughed.  “You are at the top of my pregnancy notification list,” she told Maria.

Maria nodded, satisfied.  She looked at their reflections in the shop mirror.  “You really look beautiful, Lizzie.”

Liz smiled at the old nickname she hadn’t heard in a while.  She took Maria’s hand and squeezed it.  “Thank you.”  She broke into a grin.  “Now how about those bridesmaid dresses?”

It was almost time.  Liz couldn’t believe how nervous she was.  She didn’t even know why she was nervous.  She was marrying the man of her dreams, what was there to be scared of?  But still, she wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.  She’d laughed when Max first mentioned the idea of getting married in the Elvis Chapel.  It seemed so cliché, so silly to be married by someone impersonating a dead singer.  The idea was now growing on her.

In reality, Liz would be willing to marry Max in the alley outside the Crashdown if only it meant that she would end up with a ring on her finger and Max as her husband.  Forever.  She liked that word.

“It’s time, Lizzie,” Maria told her gently.  She turned to Michael.  “Come on, Spaceboy.”  She took his arm, her sky blue dress shimmering about her small frame as she moved.  Her golden curls fell down her neck in sparkling spirals.  She turned back and winked one last time at Liz.  Then, arms linked, she and Michael stood in front of the opening into the chapel. Alex and Isabel fell into place behind them.

The music started.  Liz took a deep breath.  Michael and Maria took the first step.  Isabel and Alex followed a few steps behind.  They split at the end of the isle, Isabel and Maria on the left, Michael and Alex by Max on the right.

Next to Max, Michael squirmed uncomfortably in his tux.  But for Max nothing else existed but the woman who was slowly making her way down the isle.

“Do you, Max Evans, take this woman, Liz Parker, to be your lawfully wedded wife?” the pastor was saying.  “To have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, till death do you part?”

“I do,” Max said, his voice cracking just slightly with emotion.  His eyes shone.

“And do you, Liz Parker, take this man, Max Evans, to be your lawfully wedded husband?  To have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, till death do you part?”

“I do,” Liz breathed.  She smiled through the tears that trailed down her cheeks.

The rest of the ceremony, the exchange of rings, the repeating of vows, went by in an emotional blur for Liz.  The only thing she could clearly remember afterward was the intense look of love and devotion on Max’s face, a look she was sure was mirrored in her own expression.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the preacher said.  “You may now kiss the bride.”

Max’s hand trailed Liz’s cheek as he lifted her chin.  A shimmering white trail was left in the wake of his touch.  And when they kissed, the softest, gentlest kiss imaginable, stars danced before Liz’s eyes.  That, and images from the best their three years together had offered them.  I love you, Liz thought.

And I love you, Max thought back at her.

Inside Liz was glowing.  She wouldn’t have been surprised at that moment to find that her feet weren’t even touching the ground.

An hour later, Liz had shed her wedding gown in favor of a simple comfortable cotton dress.  Its dark blue color complimented her hair and eyes, according to Isabel.  They were waiting to get into a small dive outside of Phoenix where Max and Liz had decided that they just had to go to in order to properly celebrate their marriage.

At the threshold, Max scooped Liz once more up into his arms.  “Max,” Liz laughed with protest.  “Once was enough,” she said, referring to the last time he had carried her, right out in front of the Elvis chapel, while they waited for a cab.

“Never,” Max whispered against her ear.  Liz snuggled in closer.

After a few hours of dancing, Liz was taking a break at a small table near the dance floor that the six had claimed as their own.  She’d only had a moment’s rest, though, when her ears perked up to a familiar beat.  The slow melody under toned by a quicker beat of the percussion flowed out from the speakers on the dance floor.

Come to me now
Lay your hands over me . . .

“Max,” she whispered softly.  Her eyes brightened as she recognized one of her favorite songs.

Max stood.  “My lady?” he said, holding out his hand to help her up.

. . . Even if it’s a lie say it will be all right
And I shall believe . . .

“Oh, god!  Aren’t you guys tired yet?” Isabel groaned from the corner.  With a roll of her eyes and a shake of her head, she turned back to leaning against Alex’s shoulder.  Their chairs had been pulled so close together they nearly touched.

Max and Liz barely heard her.

Broken in two
And I know you’re on to me
That I only come home
When I’m so all alone
And I do believe

Max twirled her and dipped her and spun her around until she felt drunk on happiness.  It was undoubtedly the best night of her life . . .

In the fuzzy state between dreams and consciousness one thought formed in Liz’s mind, one that would never quite leave her:  It was the best thing that never happened to me.  Her alarm rung ten minutes later, but Liz couldn’t get herself to move from her position, staring up at the ceiling, her eyes heavy with unshed tears.

Across the sleepy town of Roswell, New Mexico Max Evans’ eyes snapped open.  It seemed so real, he thought . . .

The End

Please send comments or questions to NicoleHazel416@hotmail.com .