Accidental Love

by Ryan, Emma

  I smiled down at him, shock and happiness making butterflies flap wildly in my stomach. My mouth opened, a word hovering on the tip of my tongue. But I couldn’t quite say it.

  Biting me lip, I cocked my head as an idea occurred to me. I knew what was missing.

  My answer was cheeky, and perhaps a little mean, but Walker was Walker, and he knew me well enough by now to know he should’ve expected something like this.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Prince,” I said with a wide smile. “But I think if you’re going to ask me to marry you, you should take me on a real date first at least—no?”

  * * *

  In retrospect, my request seemed entirely reasonable.

  Because the truth was, we’d never gone on a real date during our ‘marriage’. Not one that wasn’t steeped in doubts and questions about what was real and what wasn’t.

  Alex said I was keeping Walker on a string—not that my besties actually minded; he was fully on board with the idea of me getting a proper date out of Walker—but there were some loose ends I wanted to tie up first. I wanted a fresh start if we were going to give this thing a go for real. The means to tie those loose ends sat in my purse, and excitement coursed through me.

  When I saw Walker strolling down the sidewalk toward me, I smiled and slipped my hand into his, but I didn’t lead him into the restaurant.

  “Wait—don’t we have a lunch reservation?” He shot me a confused and slightly nervous glance, probably wondering what I had up my sleeve.

  And he was right. We did have reservations—but they weren’t for this restaurant.

  “It’s a surprise.” Grinning wickedly, I tugged on his hand.

  We wove in and out of the throng of people walking up and down the streets of New York City. It was a beautiful day; it made me feel giddy. I kept Walker guessing, never giving away where we were going or what we were doing. Instead, I let him put the pieces together himself as he slowly recognized our surroundings. When he did, his grip on my hand tightened, his stride breaking.

  “Wait—Mackenzie is this—”

  There was an alley just near the high school Walker and I had gone to. Back in high school, graffiti—street art, whatever you wanted to call it, it was all basically the same thing—had been in high demand. Being the unrefined free spirit from the ‘wrong side of the tracks’, I had experimented with graffiti art here and there. It didn’t end up being my permanent medium, but it had been fun nonetheless.

  One day, years ago, when Walker and I were still flirting with each other, he’d found me after school in the very alley where we now stood. I’d skipped last period and had been working on a huge piece. Time had gotten away from me. I hadn’t realized that class had let out and people were well on their way to going home.

  It’d been the first time Walker and I had spent proper time together. I remembered it vividly, because instead of being afraid that I’d been caught, I’d just smirked over at him, held out my hand, and said, If you’re going to stand there and gawk, why don’t you paint with me?

  Today, the alley had been pre-set up with a small portable table and a few canisters of spray paint. There was a large white canvas covering the ground. Alex had certainly carried off his part of this little surprise well; I’d have to thank him later.

  I stepped deeper into the alley, kicking my heels off only when I reached the thick canvas. My feet were perfectly protected from the pavement of the alley. Back when we were in school, this had been the prime place to smoke and drink near campus, and it looked like the next generations of students had kept up the tradition.

  Bending quickly, I grabbed my first can of paint and looked down the alley like I had all those years ago. Walker had agreed to a date, so we were doing the date my way. As he stood at the mouth of the alley, looking at me with a bemused look on his face, I gave him the same line I had when we were teenagers.

  “Hey…” I cocked an eyebrow. “If you’re gonna stand there and gawk why don’t you come paint with me?”

  Walker laughed and honest-to-god trotted down the alleyway, joining me. He shrugged off his suit jacket and tossed it where I’d tossed my heels, grabbed his own can of spray paint before he went to work himself.

  Walker wasn’t an artist. Never had been. But we could flow well together. His work was more like doodles beside mine, but he added little extras and details to the nautical piece that I started, bumping into me with his hip or pressing his body to mine as he reached for a high spot on the wall. He chuckled as he swiped dripping bits of paint from the aged brick to draw little lines on me here and there. I did the same for him—neither of us cared about the state of our clothing anymore.

  We were just having fun.

  This was the kind of date that reminded me most of why I loved Walker. No pretenses. Just the two of us together—me in an element I was all too familiar with, and Walker being Walker, having no idea what he was doing but so confident in himself that he could roll with it anyway.

  It was the best fucking date I’d ever been on.

  After we painted for a while, I turned to Walker, laying my hand on his forearm. I could feel the muscles bunch under my touch, and I realized that despite his confidence, he was still nervous. I hadn’t given him an answer to his question yet.

  “So, now that I’ve got you unawares and nice and vulnerable—”

  Walker laughed. “This is your idea of vulnerable?”

  “Well, I have you in a situation where you’d never suspect a single diddly thing happening, so yeah,” I said matter-of-factly.

  He snorted. “Okay, so what’s the big twist here? When you said date, I wasn’t expecting this, though I’m not complaining one bit. But somehow, I get the feeling you’re not done yet. You’re up to something.”

  “Not up to anything!” I batted my eyelashes innocently as a smirk twitched on my mouth. “You remember the first time we were here?”

  “Yeah. You were a young, hot as fuck hoodlum tagging someone’s property—”

  I sprayed him a little with a shock of bright green paint. He jumped back, and my aim went wild. The spray that had been meant for his chest went low, leaving a big bullseye dot right on his dick. He looked down, his brow shooting up when he saw where the spray paint had ended up. When his eyes flicked back up to me, he snorted and then burst out in laughter.

  “Well, I guess if it needs a marker on it for people to know where to go…”

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “Maybe it’s there for people to see what a dick you are,” I suggested cheekily.

  “Aw, come on, you don’t believe that.”

  I smiled. “Nope. I really, really don’t.”

  We returned to painting, and as we stood close to each other, I nudged him with my hip.

  “So, back to why we’re here… I thought it was a good place to start. I mean, this alley is the first place we hung out properly. It was the first time we exchanged numbers. It was the first moment that set everything that came after it in motion. If there was ever going to be a ‘real’ date for us to start over with, it had to be this.” I smiled up at him. “I wanted to have this again, before talking about the other night.”

  Walker froze immediately, his can of paint still poised near the wall. Slowly, he turned and looked down at me.

  “What about it?” he asked in a low voice.

  I raised my brow. “You’ve gotten bad at nonchalance.”

  “Only with you; harder to be distant over.”

  Yeah. I knew that feeling well.

  “Walker, I just wanted you to know that… the other night, I was very dead set on moving on,” I told him honestly. “I did that painting, and I thought it was my closure. I thought it meant things were over. Done. I accepted it. New page to turn over and all that. But then you showed up, and I think I took it as a sign.”

  I set down the paint can in my hand and turned to Walker. I stepped closer to him, moving into his space.

  “I took it as a sign that all the shit in the past? Old new
s. Done. But that means there’s room for new beginnings.”

  Walker tilted his head. “What are you saying, Macks?”

  Stepping toward him, I wrapped my arms around him, not caring one bit that I was smearing more paint between our clothes. His strong arms banded around my waist as he pulled me closer.

  “I’m saying that I’m ready for us to have a new start, Walker. I’m saying that I would very much love to marry you.”

  A smile wide as the world spread over his face.

  “You just made my whole year. Hell, my whole life, beautiful,” he murmured, lifting one hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “First things first though… I have something I want you to listen to.”

  He pulled out a phone, a model that was older than his current one. I recognized it instantly.

  “Holy shit. That’s from—”

  “High school. Yeah. You won’t believe the hell that it took trying to find this dumb old thing again, but it was worth it. There’s something on it that I think you should hear, Macks.”

  I watched him with a curious gaze as he pushed a few buttons and eventually pulled up a file. It’s an recording, an old voicemail, and when it starts playing, I widen my eyes; it’s the same one I kept on my phone when I finally decided it was time to stop chasing after Walker Prince. But—

  That’s when I hear it.

  There’s more audio after where the message cut off for me.

  “I know that it wasn’t in the plan, and I’m busy as fuck, but I want you to come out to Tokyo with me. I know that’s crazy, but I have to believe we can make it work. Or maybe in a year or so, I’ll come back there after Dad is done having his existential crisis. All I know is that I want you, Macks. I want to be with you—to have you in my life, always. Everything I’m doing out here doesn’t seem worth it without you. I need you like I need fucking air. I… I love you.”

  The voice was young, but I recognized it instantly as Walker’s. It was the same voice that had whispered in my ear as we gave our virginity to each other. It was the voice that’d told me how much he adored my art. It was the voice of the boy I’d fallen in love with, who’d turned into the man that stood before me now.

  I slid my hand up to his where it cradled the side of my face and leaned up to brush my nose against his.

  “I can’t believe that. All those years… The message you left, the one that cut off where it did—it hurt me so bad. I was just trying to protect myself, and I was too afraid of how much worse I’d get hurt if I fought harder for you when I thought you were done with me.”

  “God, Macks,” he murmured, his breath whispering over my lips. “Me too. I was so hurt and so scared, and I held onto that shit for way, way too long. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for not manning up and facing my fear. For not fighting harder to get you back.”

  “Hey now.” I pulled back slightly, my gaze meeting his deep blue irises. “None of that. We could play the what if game forever. Hell, that night after we slept together for the first time, you tried to bring it up, to talk about how we ended. But even then, I was too scared to face it. I thought you had left me behind, and I didn’t want to risk letting that happen again.”

  He cut me off with a kiss, molding our lips together as his tongue stroked against mine, hot and deep.

  When he finally broke away, my head was spinning as warmth pooled low in my belly. Walker threaded his fingers through my hair, gazing down at me.

  “You’re right. We both let fear hold us back. But you know what, Macks? I’m not afraid anymore.”

  “We’ve both been very silly about this whole thing, haven’t we?” I asked, a smile flitting over my lips.

  “Oh, yeah, definitely.” He chuckled, but I could tell he meant his next words. “How about in the future, all our important conversations happen in person? I could have saved us a lot of heartache if I had just followed up on the message and made sure you heard the whole damn thing.”

  I snorted. “Or maybe if I’d fought for us instead of accepting what was arguably a really shitty parting message when taken at face value.”

  He eyes danced with humor. “I’ll have to come up with a sign-off for all my voicemails. So if you don’t hear it, you’ll know there’s more coming.”

  My lips pressed together to hide my laugh. It was a goofy but perfect solution. Not that I thought we’d need it; the two of us had almost lost each other for good over a misunderstanding that could’ve been cleared up if either of us had the guts to reach out. I wouldn’t let that happen again.

  Walker tipped my chin up, pressing another small kiss to my lips. “So… should I ask my question again?”

  “You don’t have to,” I whispered. “I already know my answer.”

  His nostrils flared, and I could tell it took all his self-restraint not to rush me. But I didn’t want to make him wait any longer. We’d already missed too many years being apart. I didn’t want to miss another second.

  “It’s not just a yes.” I grinned. “It’s a hell yes.”

  He pulled me into him, kissing me like his life began and ended with my lips. I sighed against him, pressing my body to his—

  “Gross. Old people making out.”

  Walker and I broke away from each other, looking toward the mouth of the alley. A few school kids in various states of ‘too cool for school’ type dress stood down there, scrunching up their faces as they watched us judgementally.

  All we did was exchange a look and laugh.

  I’d brought Walker here so we could remember our young love.

  But the truth was, we weren’t those people anymore. We were older and wiser—and so much happier for it.

  24

  Walker

  Preparing for a real wedding turned out to be a lot more work than I’d anticipated. In the end, Mackenzie and I opted for something both unconventional and intimate, something we could both be proud of in the decades of our marriage to come.

  When Alex found out that we were properly engaged, he decided to take it upon himself to offer the art gallery as the venue space. He also offered to do artwork for us just for the wedding. At first, I was hesitant—not because I didn’t appreciate his art, but because he refused to let me pay for the pieces that he eventually did for us.

  It’s called a wedding gift, he’d said with the flick of his wrist and a very pointed roll of his eye. Why the hell would I let you pay for something that I’m giving you? Commission me in the future if you’re so stressed about it.

  That had been the end of that conversation. I did make a mental note to find a reason to commission his work in the future; he was too good to not pay for his efforts.

  The weeks leading to our wedding were taken up with moving Mackenzie back into my house—something Bruno was almost as happy about as I was. He didn’t settle down for a three days straight after she returned, prancing around the place like a puppy on a caffeine high. I never expected to have the guy get so rowdy for anyone, but I was happy for the change of pace when it came to our ‘fur baby’, as Mackenzie had started to call him affectionately.

  I wouldn’t tell her just yet that an actual baby was definitely an option, too.

  The next step was getting her parents in, which was as easy said as it was done. It took a bit of explanation, from how we met again, to our first ‘marriage,’ and all the angst and heartache in between. In the end, her parents were happy to see us together again after all these years, and we invited them to stay at the house in the lead-up to the wedding. They made themselves at home, and it was just like old times.

  Bringing plates from the kitchen into the living room where they all sat cozily on the couch, I couldn’t help the swell in my chest at the sight.

  Mackenzie was wedged between her mother and father. Carl had picked up a little extra weight in his middle and had gotten grey around the temples since the last time I’d seen him. Maria was radiant as ever, with her own silvering hair falling in thick curls like Mackenzie’s ov
er her delicate shoulders. It was easy to see how Mackenzie was a mix of the two of them in their prime; she got her eyes from her father, her hair from her mother, and her open, inviting countenance from them both. Bruno rested at their feet, wagging his tail and enjoying all the scratches and pets he could get.

  I smiled.

  This was my family—and I didn’t have a single, solitary ounce of regret. I hoped, if my dad could see me now, he’d be happy for me; that he’d be proud of the legacy he’d left behind.

  “Lunch,” I offered, setting the plates onto the coffee table and sitting on the love seat nearby.

  Mackenzie smiled and got up, coming over to sit with me. It was a scene I hadn’t expected or even thought I wanted for so long. My future wife at my side, and her parents across from us. I squeezed Mackenzie’s hand; what would it have been like if my own mother and father were here to see this? It was hard to see how my own father would fit in with Mackenzie’s down to Earth parents. He had always been painfully formal and almost stuffy; Mom would’ve been the one to reach over take Maria’s hand and tell her how happy she was that we were going to be a family together.

  “Something on your mind, hun?” Maria asked me. “You look preoccupied.”

  I shook my head. “It just hit me how different this is from anything I ever expected.” A chuckle fell from my lips. “I was thinking about how my own parents would react to all of this. What it would be like for my father and mother to meet you. Honestly… it’s a little overwhelming. And amusing. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to think about it.”

  Carl laughed. “Everyone always has those thoughts, son. I remember the first family dinner I went to after I asked Maria to marry me.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any pointers?”

  The hearty man waved me off with a laugh. “Oh, we approved of you a long time ago, Walker. There’s no need.”