Say Yes

by Ashwood, Eva

  “Can’t imagine why you’d need lights. There’s plenty of fun to be had in the dark.” He smirked. “But I’m glad to hear you’re still in the game. Couldn’t see you doing anything in the big corporate jungle for long.”

  “Or at all.” I’d never been one for tradition; Walker probably knew that better than anyone.

  “I always knew you’d—”

  Before he could finish the sentence, the comm buzzed and the voice of the bubbly secretary I’d met a few moments before filtered in.

  “Your eleven o’clock is in meeting room three, Mr. Prince. Shall I tell him you’re on your way?”

  Walker swore, looking down at his watch.

  “Damn it. Forgot about that… Yeah, Anna. Give me five minutes. Thanks.” He looked to me, apologetic. “How about we catch up later? Say, over some drinks and dinner? Like old friends?”

  My brows rose. Dinner? With Walker? I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, and he sensed my hesitance.

  “Just between friends,” he reiterated. “Especially if you’re only here as a temp; you won’t be back unless you end up having to fill in for someone else. It’s been a really long time, Macks. I’d love to catch up.”

  Yeah. It had been a long time. So why did it feel like no time at all had passed when he caught my gaze with his bright blue eyes?

  I bit my lip and thought for a moment longer before giving a small smile.

  “Sure. Dinner and drinks sound great.”

  We quickly exchanged numbers and information, and Walker gave me one of those charming smiles of his before heading out of his office. As the door clicked shut and I was left alone, I sighed. It was good seeing Walker after almost seven years. But I couldn’t help but wonder if I was getting myself into trouble by agreeing to meet him again.

  After all, seven years of growth and healing didn’t change the fact that all those years ago, Walker Prince had broken my heart.

  * * *

  “No! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  The bright yellow notice tacked to the front of my apartment door was not the conclusion I’d hoped for to the long but otherwise decent day.

  EVICTION was printed across the top in bold, ugly letters, and I stared at it with a defeated slump to my shoulders before frustration took over. I ripped the notice off my door and shoved my keys into the lock before pushing my way inside.

  It wouldn’t be the first time I’d faced eviction, but it sure as hell wasn’t something I wanted to deal with right now. I knew exactly why it was happening—back rent was a bitch—and I knew trying to contest it after the number of extensions I’d had over the last year wouldn’t get me anywhere. Living in New York City as an artist was like playing a constant high-stakes game of poker, and you had to know when to call and when to fold.

  Tossing the eviction notice to the side, because that was going to be a Future Mackenzie problem, I made my way slowly through my small studio apartment, shedding clothes as I went. I kicked the shoes off my aching feet, undid the buttons of my uniform with a relieved sigh, and opened the clasp of my front-snapping bra. Then I threw on one of my favorite t-shirts—a men’s large that reached down to my mid-thighs.

  Ah. Much better.

  I walked around the canvases set up in the small space between the kitchenette and my living-but-also-bedroom. Pieces that would eventually have final pictures taken before putting them on the internet—lifelike stills of fantastic creatures, which were my signature, all in vibrant, glorious colors. Before opening any paints, I beelined to the fridge, pulling out last night’s takeout.

  So, an old flame and an eviction notice all in one day.

  Damn. I couldn’t help but wonder what sort of karmic message the universe was trying to send—but it got a little clearer when my microwave short-circuited before my leftovers were properly heated.

  Okay, okay, I get it, Universe. Please go torture someone else now.

  I rolled my eyes and sighed, irritation bubbling under my skin. Fortunately, my phone rang just in time to keep me from chucking the microwave across the apartment. Checking my phone, I saw that it was Walker.

  Walker: Hey—meet me at the regular place tomorrow around noon?

  I paused.

  Me: That where I think it is?

  Walker: Yep. Figured it’d be a fun homage to the good old days. Are you up for it?

  ‘The regular place’ was a small hole-in-the-wall pizzeria called Pop’s. They had the best crispy crust I’d ever eaten. It was certainly more appealing than cold leftovers. It also happened to be the place Walker and I first met.

  I smiled in spite of myself—in spite of knowing a place riddled with so many memories was probably the last place we should meet—and replied.

  Me: See you then.

  3

  Mackenzie

  Mom and Dad had let me roam about the city all day, taking in the sights and sounds. Dad was busy with his job at the new meat packing plant, and Mom was writing her poems again. Me? I wanted to explore, to get some fresh New York City air and experience the energy and bustle of the Big Apple. And now that I was in high school, my parents were fine letting me do so on my own. I’d be starting classes on scholarship at a fancy private school now that we were living closer to the city.

  When my feet finally started screaming at me for a break, I found myself in a pizzeria—one of those authentic Italian family-owned places that smelled like tomatoes and oregano and fresh-made mozzarella. I grabbed a seat by the window and pulled out my sketchbook and one of the new woodless graphite pencils my parents had bought me for my birthday. The whole vibe of the place was beyond chill as I carefully freehanded a mystical rendition of the pizzeria.

  “That’s some cool art you’ve got there.”

  The voice was deep and filled with a touch of humor. I didn’t stop sketching, but I did smirk as I replied.

  “Thanks. I try.”

  “Yeah? Pretty good for being just a try.”

  “Well, I try hard.”

  The boy who’d spoken laughed, and I finally looked up.

  My sketching hand paused. He was in one of those fancy-pants private school uniforms, his tie loose and the top buttons of his uniform jacket undone. His short blond hair was pushed back, small strands falling into his face just above his set of piercing, deep blue and quite mischievous eyes.

  I must have been staring a little too hard, because he grinned and held out his hand.

  “I’m Walker Prince.”

  Blinking, I pulled myself out of my trance, eyeing his hand with a raised my brow before I looked back up to his face.

  “Mackenzie Henson,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

  * * *

  Pop’s hadn’t changed at all over the years. It was still a brick and mortar establishment with a red-and-white canopy hanging over the sidewalk out front, and the decadent scent of fresh pizza wafting out the front doors.

  I smiled as I walked in. I hadn’t left the city since college, so I could’ve come by anytime, but I hadn’t stepped foot in this place for years. It was a shame, really, letting myself forget the small joys in life. I’d spent the past several years without much in the way of a social life as I struggled to make my art into a career and got buried under a mountain of temp work that was getting me nowhere.

  The bell atop the door rang as I entered, signaling my arrival.

  “Welcome to Pop’s…” The voice trailed off. “Good God, Macks? Is that you? Macks, my girl!”

  Pop himself was behind the counter, tossing a fresh ring of pizza dough up into the air. He was a broad-chested Italian man, with a deep tan and salt-and-pepper hair pulled neatly back into a bun.

  “Hey, Pop,” I said, waving. “Long time, no see.”

  “Aye, long, long time, even. You need to come around more! I’ll get you a slice of lemon merengue the Missus made this morning. My grandson will get your order in a mo’.”

  I nodded and smiled, taking a seat at one of the tables near the big, open w
indows of the little shop. I was a few minutes early, so I occupied my nervous energy by scrolling through my phone—liking the occasional IG post, eventually moving from social media to scrolling the internet for apartment listings and bookmarking a few of them to check out further after lunch with Walker.

  Technically, the whole eviction thing was still a Future Mackenzie problem. Only problem was, Future Mackenzie was going to become Today Mackenzie a lot sooner than I’d like.

  But I would be okay. I was good at finding solutions to sticky situations, and luckily, I had a month. Some landlords didn’t even offer you that—

  “You look like you’re thinking about something important.”

  I glanced up from my phone with a big smile. Walker stood above me, dressed more casually today—though he still looked GQ as hell in the black blazer and slacks he sported. His hair was slicked back again, more tightly styled than I ever remembered it being when we were teenagers. I guessed what they said was true; growing up really did do wonders to a man.

  “In a manner of speaking,” I hedged, choosing to keep my current housing problems to myself.

  If we were really going to play the ‘let’s be friendly exes’ game, I wanted to at least make myself sound somewhat put together. Admitting I was about to be homeless would be more embarrassing than I could handle, because the truth was, even though I shouldn’t care what Walker thought of me… I did.

  I nudged a chair out with my foot. “Sit down. You look like you’re about to buy the place out, not buy a pizza.”

  He laughed, mussed up his hair a bit, and sat.

  “Been a while.” He swiveled his head around, a fond smile overtaking his face. “I can’t remember the last time I was here.”

  “Years. For me, at least.” I smiled. “I was thinking about the first time we met. It was here. You remember?”

  “How could I forget? You were the cutest girl I’d ever seen.”

  I couldn’t help the blush that warmed my cheeks, but I just laughed and moved on.

  “Yeah, well. You were all right yourself.”

  It was strange to feel so comfortable with him. I’d almost texted him in the morning to cancel this whole thing, worried being here like this might be awkward and uncomfortable. But slipping into conversation as we ordered our pizzas—double meat for me, and spinach artichoke with parm for Walker, because he couldn’t do anything normal or half-assed—felt easy. Effortless. As if there weren’t seven years of silence between us, as if time had merely paused and then started back up again. It was easy to fall back into our old routines, even if it wasn’t easy to forget. It was a strange duality that left me reeling as I talked about my art and Walker talked about his work.

  “…yeah, three years back, dad started integrating me more deeply into the business. That’s when we moved back here from Tokyo. I was overseeing warehouses, meeting with board members, and actually making a difference in the company.”

  He sounded so proud of it all.

  “You enjoy it,” I observed. “Work, I mean.”

  “It’s everything to me,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I mean, it’s a lot of responsibility put on my shoulders, but I love it. The focus. The drive. Dad left it all to me and… well…” He shook his head, a strange look passing over his face. “Sort of left it all to me.”

  His contented demeanor shifted into something harder—a bitterness I hadn’t seen in Walker before, ever.

  “What is it?” I tilted my head and leaned forward.

  For the first time since he’d arrived, he seemed almost hesitant to speak. He looked down, staring at his half-eaten pizza with disdain.

  “Dad left me everything—but with one fucking ridiculous stipulation. I’m supposed to get married before I can collect on my inheritance.”

  Something in my heart seized at his words. Was he seeing someone? Were they that serious? I shoved those thoughts down, letting a shocked laugh bubble up instead.

  His gaze turned to me, and he lifted a brow. “What’s so funny?”

  “All you have to do is get married? Why is that so awful? You’re the head of Royal Technology. You’re a billionaire. What’s so bad about waiting until you’re married to get the rest of what your father left you?”

  “Because it includes controlling share of the company,” he said, an almost pained expression on his face. “And if I let it sit too long, other shareholders will sink their claws too far into the company. Which is something my father should have understood, but I suppose he had his reasons.”

  Whatever those reasons were, it didn’t sound like Walker thought they were good ones. Honestly, I was inclined to agree with him. A simple monetary inheritance was one thing; a share of the company was something else altogether. It was strange to think something as huge as controlling interest in the family business could be played like a chess piece—but I’d learned during my high school years with kids from the same kinds of families as Walker that nothing was ever off the table.

  “You have any idea what you’re going to do?”

  He chuckled, running his hand through his hair. “One idea came to me last night. I’ve thought about it, but…”

  He trailed off, and I nudged his foot with mine under the table.

  “But…?”

  “I already know it probably won’t work.”

  I scoffed. “Well, you’ll never know until you try. What’s your idea? It’s your inheritance. You deserve it.”

  “Well…” He looked at me, biting his full bottom lip between his teeth. “Well, I was going to ask you, Macks.”

  I blinked at him a few times and then laughed. Guffawed, really.

  “Good one, Walker. Come on. What’s your real plan?”

  “That was my real plan. And since, like I said, I knew the answer was going to be a big fat no, I think I’ve been proved right.”

  As I stared at him, it dawned on me that he was one hundred percent serious. Walker J. Prince was honestly considering marrying me to fulfill his father’s strange requirements. Years ago, I probably would’ve jumped at the prospect of walking down the aisle with this man, but now I couldn’t help but wonder why he’d chosen to ask me.

  “I—wow. I mean, okay. First of all, why me? Don’t you have a girlfriend or something? A best friend, even? Walker, we—”

  “Have a history, I know. And no, I don’t have a girlfriend—and considering the fact that Grant and I are both very, very straight, the best friend thing isn’t an option either. Why wouldn’t I consider you?”

  He said it as if it was so obvious. Like it was just as plain as rain.

  “Maybe because our history has a bit of baggage attached to it,” I said, my eyes still bugging out of my head. “Walker…”

  “I would make it worth your while,” he promised. “It would be a sham marriage, but you would reap all the benefits of being my wife—”

  “So, you’re bribing me?”

  “No! I’m not saying that. I’m saying this would be a huge favor to me, and I’d be willing to pay you back for helping me with something that’s a personal inconvenience to me and honestly shouldn’t be anyone else’s problem—and wouldn’t be, if not for the fact that my father was obviously insane.”

  My mind reeled as I pushed my plate away. I took a moment to steady myself mentally and think through the situation. I knew I shouldn’t even be considering his proposal one teensy tiny bit, but his words echoed in the back of my mind.

  It would be a sham marriage, but you would reap all the benefits of being my wife.

  At this very moment, I was staring an eviction notice in the face. I’d dealt with angry landlords before and had always come out okay, but there was no guarantee I’d land on my feet this time. I had loans to pay back. Art supplies to buy.

  I could be indignant about what Walker offered me, or I could be resourceful.

  And I had always been resourceful.

  “Say I do this for you.” I spoke slowly, the wheels turning in my head. “Ho
w long would it be? What would it entail?”

  “It would be a couple of months,” he said immediately. “Maybe less. We’d only need to go to a justice of the peace, get our wedding certificate, and have a quick ceremony. Obviously, you’d have to move into my place, but if that’s a problem—”

  “It’s not,” I said, still neglecting to mention my eviction. We weren’t actually in a relationship, so my crappy living situation was none of his business. “Or, it wouldn’t be. Go on.”

  “We’d just need to put on a show for a little while. Make it look like we were truly husband and wife. I keep my personal life… private at work, so it wouldn’t surprise people to learn that I’d been seeing someone special and just didn’t talk about her. We only need to keep the charade up long enough that it doesn’t look suspicious when we get a divorce. We’ll do it amicably—nothing that shakes things up badly. I don’t want any of this to affect you negatively. I just want to be able to keep control of my company like I know my father wanted… even if he couldn’t just leave it to me like a normal man.”

  I was silent as Walker explained his plan to me, still stunned the words had come out of his mouth to begin with. Marriage wasn’t something that had been on my mind in years. Maybe at one point… but that’d been a long time ago, when there was someone in my life I could see myself spending the rest of my days with.

  Swallowing hard, I looked across the table at Walker. He had been that man, years ago.

  I could still remember the day he’d called me just moments before getting on a plane. He’d told me he was leaving—that his father was moving to Tokyo, and he had to go with him. His mother had died of cancer, and his father had closed off after her loss, becoming even more driven than before.

  I’d given Walker time, had hoped he would make his way back to me. That he’d at least call me so we could end things properly, if that was how it had to be. But weeks had turned to months of unread texts and unreturned calls. The last voicemail he’d left me was a ‘Sorry. I have to focus on work.’