An Accidental Love Story: A sweet, heartwarming & uplifting romantic comedy (Falling into Happily Ever After Rom Com)

by Ellie Hall

  The converse to Oma’s comment is that sometimes life is easy and fair. Luck filled? I look forward to those days. I glance over my shoulder to Rusty who sets out the picnic. I welcome those days...these days.

  We spend the afternoon on the beach, checking out the tidepools, playing frisbee—to Magnolia’s delight—and catching some sun. To my delight. Ahem. Even with the cast, shirtless Rusty is a sight to behold.

  We lounge on a blanket I dug out of a closet—don’t tell Oma—and my eyes dip. I yawn. “It must be around four pm when I usually get a case of the sleepies and crave something sweet.”

  “I saved part of my cupcake,” Rusty says in a rough voice. I peek and his eyes are closed too. I peek again and admire his abs.

  “Must be why you’re in such good shape, you don’t power them down, adding extra padding.” I pat my stomach, glad my eyes are closed again.

  “Padding? You? I like your shape. You’re perfect.” His voice goes an octave lower.

  Or maybe I’m imagining things like I did in my office fantasy where he came to my rescue in front of Jim. Like an alarm, signaling that I get my head out of the clouds, Rusty’s phone beeps.

  “That’s the hospital.” He leaps to his feet and walks away, speaking in a serious and clipped tone. He paces and the ocean washes away his footprints.

  I lay there a little longer, wondering if the Roasted Rudder has any of those cookies left.

  A shadow crosses my patch of sun and Rusty says, “I have to take this call. It might be a while.” He signals he has to go back to the house.

  “I’ll be there soon.” As I watch the waves a while longer, I wonder if this is what it would be like to be married to a doctor—we’re on our honeymoon and a life needs to be saved. Even though I worked around them at the hospital, I never thought about what it meant to have the knowledge, ability, and responsibility to save lives. To be called away at any given moment.

  Maybe that’s why he’s so serious. Doesn’t let his hair down...although I liked when he put mine up earlier even though it was as lumpy as my pierogi.

  That doesn’t explain why he seems lonely though.

  I pack up the picnic and head down the street to the coffee shop. Zoe greets me with a tray of what smells like comfort. “You look like you could use a brookie.”

  I raise an eyebrow, thinking of Monica back in Manhattan.

  Using a spatula, she puts one on a plate. The chocolate is glossy and melty. “Careful, they’re still hot. Latte too?”

  “I already baked cupcakes today but sure.”

  “That’s a girl. You bake? Russell always loved cupcakes. They’re not my thing. I’m more of a cookie and brownie kind of girl. He used to call me Cookie though.” She giggles.

  “He must have a thing for girls and baked goods,” I mumble, but she doesn’t register the comment.

  “As you can probably see, boredom begets creativity. There was only a little bit of cookie dough and a little bit of brownie batter so I hybridized the two. I created a monster,” she cackles and claws her hands in the air. “No, but seriously, those are legit.”

  I take a bite and my eyes close. I moan, despite myself. “You should package them,” I say amidst my cookie ecstasy.

  Her eyes light up and a smile sneaks across her face like I’ve told her she should be the queen of the Ice Palace. She vanishes behind the display case, loading the brookies onto a platter, and then busies herself making the coffee.

  I pull out a book. Magnolia lowers to her belly, ready to settle in for a while.

  Zoe appears with my coffee and puts a sassy hand on her hip. “Did you and Russell bond over books?”

  “These things?” I ask, slapping my hand on the cover and startling the dog. I put her at ease before continuing, giving myself a chance to think on the fly. “Yep. We’re both pretty geeky. He mostly reads nonfiction. You know, medical stuff. I like fantasy, romance. That kind of thing.”

  “I remember he was a closet nerd. I used to call him a word nerd. He was always looking things up.” She looks wistfully toward the window practically with love hearts in her eyes.

  And there I thought he and I were making strides in...well, in a direction if not the right one. But where? I force myself not to answer. It lands in my mind, anyway. He’s a doctor and I’m unlucky. There has to be a ban on our partnering despite Oma thinking otherwise.

  “We shared late nights. Early mornings.” She giggles at a private memory. “He was always laughing. Always smiling. The life of the party.”

  I get major Monica mean girl vibes as if she’s trying to stake her claim.

  “I had the biggest crush on him...then he cracked his tooth. It made him even cuter. We hooked up at a party one night and the rest is history.”

  My face crinkles.

  “Ancient history, like Russell said.” The hope in her voice isn’t convincing. She sighs. “We used to have so much fun.”

  Clearly, we know two different versions of the same man.

  But quitting my job gave me a crazy kind of courage. I won’t back down. Not this time. “You know, I’ve been wanting him to loosen up. Have a little fun. Work is demanding and he’ll be here for the next month while his arm heals. Any ideas? Suggestions?”

  Monica leaps to her feet. “Only about a dozen. I’m full of brain waves, strokes of genius, and flashes of brilliance.”

  “And a steady drip of caffeine. But you have my attention.”

  She laughs. “Let’s sing, sister.”

  I sputter on my sip of latte. “Come again?”

  She passes me a napkin and sits down across from me.

  “Karaoke nights for starters. I doubt the owners would mind. Plus, we’ve been looking to liven up the place because tips do a body good.”

  “Sorry, I don’t sing.”

  “Russell either.” She rests her hands under her chin and exhales. “I also do shifts over at the Snack Box at the Ice Palace and I started a little side hustle selling cookies. The rink needs a new roof and a dozen other repairs at least. There’s talk about condemning it if the Ice Wizard doesn’t work some magic. I’ve been contributing what I can. You could go there. Maybe Mr. Fancy Pants Doctor could make a donation and it might get him back on the ice.” She taps her chin, thinking.

  “Back on the ice? He plays in Manhattan—until the arm thing.” At least that’s what I’ve gleaned.

  “I meant here. He was such a hotshot.” She smirks then her face falls.

  My expression must pucker as I play my role even though Rusty and I aren’t actually an item.

  Zoe reaches across the table for me. “I hurt him a long time ago. I want to see him happy. In you, I see a kindred spirit. A good person. A friend. I don’t know. We just met yesterday, but I have a feeling about you...and him. Like you’re soul mates. I hope I’m not overstepping bounds.”

  If I’d taken a sip of coffee, I would’ve choked that time for sure. That was the last thing I expected her to say.

  “I’m impulsive but also grounded. I’m chatty but also intelligent. I’m bored in this town and you seem, well, like you’re up for an adventure. Living a little.”

  “You’re not wrong.

  She looks around then leans in as if preparing to spill a secret. “So, a while back, I had this idea... Wait for it... Dot, dot, dot... Drum roll, and all that pizazz—during the slow stretches here at the café I make cookies. I’m an awesome baker if I don’t mind saying so. Then I sell them at the hockey games and around town. Events and stuff. Just a little extra money on the side. I need it. Nine dollars an hour and—” She glances at the nearly empty tip jar on the counter. “Pennies don’t cut it so I was just thinking, what if I expanded my side hustle with your help?”

  “I quit my job before coming here, so I understand the lack of resources, but I’m not following.”

  “You could help me. Will you help me?”

  I shrug and she tackles me with a hug as the door jingles. “That is absolute perfection. So you’re willin
g to do it?”

  “Do what?” asks a man with a deep voice.

  My thoughts exactly. I can hardly keep up with Zoe.

  She leaps to her feet. She’s toned and full of energy and doesn’t trip over the table leg and dog leash, landing on her hands and knees.

  Nope. That’s me.

  Rusty rushes over. “Are you okay?”

  One-handed, he helps me into the chair, assessing me for wounds, contusions...and blood. Fingers brush skin. Palms press firmly. Our eyes meet. Each time I feel like I might pass out all over again. What is it about this man that makes me so lightheaded?

  “I’m fine.” Then I whisper, “In addition to being unlucky, I tend to be clumsy. You’ve been warned.”

  He rubs his head as though he can hardly believe I exist. That I’ve managed to survive in this world...and with his ex-girlfriend. The one that broke his heart, at least I assume so.

  “Is everything alright at the hospital?” I ask.

  He nods gravely. “What are you doing here?”

  I give my empty coffee cup a jiggle. “And planning world domination with Zoe.”

  “You two?”

  I flash Zoe a smile. I was wrong about her. She’s not the second coming of Monica. Not at all. There’s something about this little town that brought me to life...that welcomes me and makes me feel at home. I have no idea what her big plans were—she may have mentioned something about the roof at the rink, but it was hard to follow. I’m in, whatever it is.

  “Shake the rust off your voice, Russell. It’s karaoke night,” Zoe says.

  His eyes bulge.

  “Or we could head over to the Ice Palace. See what’s hopping there. It is Friday night after all,” I suggest, curious about his secret hockey heartthrob past.

  “The Ice Wizard would love to see you,” Zoe says.

  “The what?”

  Rusty scrubs his hands down his face. “The Ice Wizard,” he repeats.

  “Friday night just got a whole lot more interesting. Spring break, woot!” I say.

  10

  Fun and Done

  Rusty

  After bringing Magnolia home and feeding her, Lottie insists we freshen up and prepare for a night out...in the last place I want to be.

  Mongolia. Manhattan. My apartment. Anywhere other than Seaswell.

  “You sure you don’t want to watch Wheel of Fortune with Oma?” I ask Lottie.

  “Or we could watch paint dry.”

  “Considering that you’re accident prone, it might be a safer option. Ice and karaoke, seems like it could spell disaster.”

  “Nope. It spells F-U-N. Something you need to have more of.” She playfully pokes me in the side.

  “When did you become high commissioner of my extracurricular activities?”

  She claps me on the shoulder—Lottie has been more touchy-feely today. Although I guess that’s what real boyfriends and girlfriends do. I shiver at the thought of affection, PDAs, holding hands. In a good way.

  “I didn’t, but I’m roping you into things like having fun whether you like it or not. Sitting home alone, lamenting, or whatever it is you do isn’t spring break-tastic.”

  “How do you know I sit home...?”

  “Because I’m your girlfriend and believe it or not, we’re a lot alike.”

  I feign surprise. “You’re a doctor?”

  She gives me a look that says don’t be difficult as she shoves me out the door. “Don’t worry, Oma. We’ll behave ourselves and Magnolia is here to look after you.”

  I almost chuckle. Almost.

  Zoe waits outside the Ice Palace, a weather-beaten structure with a corrugated metal roof, sitting at the back of a nearly vacant parking lot.

  “This used to be our second home,” Zoe says.

  “Do you skate or play hockey?” Lottie asks.

  Like an innocent bystander, tethered to earth, I watch the colliding of two worlds, past and present. However, so far there hasn’t been an explosion or apocalypse so that’s an upside.

  “No. I was a rink rat.” Zoe giggles. “Also this is the home of the legendary Ice Storm. More of our players have gone on to join the NHL than from any other rink in the country. Also, parenthesis around Ice. They just go by the Storm these days. They’re the regional champions fifteen years running. You can mostly thank Russell for that. He was the heart of the team even though he was the enforcer.”

  “Enforcer?” Lottie asks.

  I press my hand against her low back, guiding her inside. I explain, “It’s an old school term for the dude who gets the job done—aka the left-winger.” I lean into her hair, inhaling her buttercream and sunshine scent, and whisper, “But don’t go around telling anyone what Zoe said about me being the heart of the team. I have a tough-guy reputation to uphold.”

  “I heard that,” Zoe says. “Hockey was your life.”

  “Isn’t that dangerous, Dr. Koenig?” Lottie asks.

  “Seems like Russell left some small-town things behind when he ran off to the big city and his fancy life.”

  Zoe looks sad for a moment. I have the urge to remind her she was the one who dumped me but hold back. No sense in digging up old bones.

  When we step through the doors, the particular icy, sweaty odor, mixed with coffee and popcorn, unique to the rink slaps me in the face. I almost stagger. A buzzer sounds and Lottie startles. A flurry of guys, outfitted in protective gear and with sticks in hand, march by, their voices deep and loud as they go to the warm room—the Plexiglas area surrounding the rink.

  Then they stop. There are greetings and cheers. It takes me a moment to register they’re talking to me. Welcoming me home like a hero. I get swept into their midst like I’d never left. Before I realize what’s happening, I’m in gear, laced up, and have a stick in hand.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Zoe says, marching onto the ice in her shoes. “Skinny, what the heck do you think you’re doing letting him practice with a broken arm. You guys are insane.”

  Skinny, more like husky, whose jersey says Buckman on the back, shakes his giant, helmeted head. “It wasn’t my idea.”

  She weaves through the team, carrying on, but Lottie ushers her to the bleachers. Her pale blue eyes meet mine. She mouths Spring Break. Then she pumps her arm in the air.

  This is out of character—playing with a broken arm. Not the hockey part. It’s how I broke my arm, to begin with. But in the name of fun and for Lottie and not at all expecting a warm welcome in the coldest room in town, I slide around, block a few shots, and am reminded why I love the ice so much.

  A sweetly flirty gaze trails my progress around the rink—I’m not going to lie, I show off just a little.

  After a period, I swap out with another guy because despite appearances, I don’t want to delay my arm from healing.

  Lottie stands in front of the “Wall-of-Fame” where she studies a much younger and scrawnier photo of me wearing my jersey.

  She taps her front tooth—the same one that’s chipped in my picture.

  “Rough game. Had it fixed.” I flash my pearly smile.

  She blinks once, twice as though blinded.

  Interesting this effect I have on her.

  My eyes dance to her lips. My entire body hums with warmth, excitement. Interesting this effect she has on me.

  “Thanks for cheering me on,” I say.

  “You owe me.”

  “What do I owe you, Cupcake?”

  “Some fun.”

  Just then, the Ice Wizard, standing at the counter in the pro shop, waves me over. He has the same gray and white, schnauzer-like beard and gray eyes that he ever had. He waggles his head back and forth when he talks. “Hey, my man, Russell. You looked like you didn’t miss a beat.”

  “I still lace-up. Meet Lottie. This is the Ice Wizard aka Ivan.”

  “Nice to meet you. You look familiar.” He tips his Bruins cap and extends his giant mitt of a hand in her direction.

  I whisper to Lottie, but loud enough so t
he Ice Wizard can hear, “Rumor has it he’s part Yeti.”

  She giggles and shakes his hand, and they trail off, talking about the rink’s roof.

  Skinny Buckman saunters over. “How’s Crabby Cat Lady?” Then his gaze lands on Lottie like he’s suddenly hungry. “Who do we have here? I’m Skinny.” His eyes lower, scanning her.

  My jaw ticks.

  “The Crabby Cat Lady?” Lottie asks, her voice laced with hostility because there’s no question Skinny means Oma. Or maybe she doesn’t like the way he gawks. I certainly don’t.

  “Sorry, no offense meant,” Skinny replies. “But I always wondered, was it true? Does your grandmother have twenty cats?”

  My expression turns to granite. “Nope. No cats that I know of.”

  Check this out, “I remember when your grandma stopped answering the door on Halloween but used to give out apples. Who does that?”

  Skinny drops his hand on my shoulder. I steel myself against the pain that shoots through my arm and shrug him off.

  Zoe appears, red-cheeked. “Hey, you met Lottie. She’s Russell’s girlfriend.”

  “You guys should come check out my truck,” Skinny says. “Zoe’s a fan.”

  I recall the classic 1960s vehicle he got from his father for a graduation gift...just in time for prom. It isn’t lost on me how Skinny smirks at Zoe—the girl that dumped me on prom night for him. His truck didn’t break down like mine did. He wasn’t struggling with his future...or his past as he stood on the precipice of graduation. He was up for a good time and apparently Zoe was too.

  My arm slides around Lottie’s shoulders.

  “Russel, I don’t think I ever apologized properly,” Zoe says, gazing at the floor. “I mean I tried. But you didn’t answer.”

  I shake my head. “Water under the bridge.” But there’s ice in my voice directed at Skinny. If he dares come close to Lottie or touch me again, I’ll show him what kind of damage I can do one-handed. I may have been the heart of the hockey team, but I was also the enforcer...for good reason.