Accidentally in Love: An utterly uplifting laugh out loud romantic comedy

by Belinda Missen

  Except he doesn’t. There’s a moment where he turns around but does a double-take and steps back towards the bar, and me. I shy away from his gaze and hope he takes the hint. Don’t look at him. If you can’t see him, he’s not there. I chance a momentary glance, and he spots me. Damn it.

  ‘Hello, Katharine,’ he says, a hint of smile tugging at his mouth. Surely, he’s not happy to see me.

  ‘Hello.’ I tap a coaster against the counter.

  ‘How are you?’ he asks.

  ‘If you’re about to talk to me, I’m going to assume it’s because you’ve changed your mind.’ I angle my gaze towards him. Go. Away. My reflux is getting worse with every step he takes, every move he makes. That’s it, I’m buying shares in Gaviscon.

  ‘What is that in your hair?’ He reaches out and begins tugging on clumps of my hair. ‘Is that … have you got lice?’

  My heart slams against my chest as I push his hand away. ‘I do not have lice. It’s paint. I’ve been painting.’

  ‘It looks like lice.’

  ‘It is not lice,’ I stress. ‘Leave me alone.’

  ‘What are you painting?’ he asks. ‘And have you been using a sprinkler to do it?’

  ‘The Sistine Chapel,’ I snap. ‘Thought I’d paint a bunch of dicks all over a ceiling.’

  Christopher smiles and leans on the bar and pokes his tongue into his cheek.

  ‘I’m painting that gallery you don’t want to be involved in. Though, feel free to help instead of being so critical,’ I continue.

  ‘Now, I never said I didn’t want to be involved. Don’t put words in my mouth.’

  I tap my foot and check the time on my phone. Finally, the barmaid takes my order. Christopher waits patiently until she moves away with a wink and a smile. For him.

  ‘I told you I wanted to show my students’ work. I’m more than happy to help you with that.’

  ‘Yes, some help twenty different interpretations of your backyard would be. Can’t wait for people to stand in a room full of wide-open fields and sky.’ Finally, I look at him. ‘You do realise you’re treating me like I’m a joke, don’t you?’

  ‘Wasn’t it Mick Jagger who said you can’t always get what you want?’ he says, waving to someone across the bistro.

  I huff. ‘He’s not exactly a guide to life.’

  ‘I don’t know, he is still alive.’

  ‘And so is Keith Richards, so that’s not the world’s greatest analogy.’ I smirk. ‘Look, what do you want? Really? What is it? You frogmarch me out of your studio and now you want to talk like we’re old friends?’

  Just as he’s poised to answer, the barmaid returns with my change. She counts it into my palm and clucks her tongue. ‘Listen to you two, anyone would think you’re about to swap kids in the car park at Maccies.’

  With that, I raise my brows at Christopher, smirk and walk away, though the idea of a smaller version of him is enough to guarantee me a coronary. Imagine it, small and blond with fluffy hair and dark critical eyes. Adam’s seen the whole exchange and is already perched halfway out of the booth when I get back. He takes one look at me, one look back to where I came from, and considers his options.

  ‘Sit down,’ I grumble. ‘Don’t worry about him.’

  ‘Isn’t that the guy from Dad’s the other week?’

  ‘One and the same,’ I say. ‘Brilliant artist. Massive cock.’

  ‘Really? You’re a quick mover.’

  ‘Adam.’ I glower. ‘Not like that.’

  ‘You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say he likes you.’

  I retch, fidgeting with my napkin. ‘He bloody well does not.’

  ‘Ehh.’ He scrunches his face. ‘I saw the way he looked at you.’

  ‘Oh, you did, did you?’ I say with a laugh. ‘And how was that?’

  ‘He was all kind of soft and open, a little smiley.’ He rounds a finger in my face. ‘Blushing like you are right now.’

  ‘Don’t you start.’ I push my change down into the pocket of my jeans. ‘You do realise the only reason he was at Dad’s the other week was because Dad was playing matchmaker.’

  ‘Clearly it worked.’ Adam sniggers. ‘You were getting on like a house on fire. If that fire was lit with petrol and a match and was burning off toxic plastics.’

  He’s quiet for second as my attention follows Christopher back to his booth at the other end of the bistro. I return to find Adam watching me, a knowing smile on his face.

  ‘Not a Van Gogh’s chance in a Sunglass Hut,’ I say and Adam wheezes with laughter. ‘Anyway, everything with John is all still a bit, you know. And, if he does like me, then why is he so combative?’

  ‘Oh, and you aren’t?’ he says. ‘But I’d hazard a guess that you frighten the life out of him, which is fair. It’s a natural response to you.’

  ‘Stop it.’ I laugh softly. ‘Right now, it’s enough for me to be working on the gallery. Once that’s up and running, then I’ll worry about ruining myself over another man.’

  ‘Ruining yourself,’ Adam says with barely concealed disappointment. ‘You make it sound like a death sentence.’

  I pull a face. ‘’Til death do us part.’

  I glance around my brother and out into the other end of the bistro. There he is, laughing and smiling, not a care in the world. He must feel my eyes on him because he looks my way. I turn away immediately, grabbing at my phone as it starts to ring.

  ‘What’s with the face?’ Adam asks. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘John keeps calling,’ I say dismissively. ‘Anyone would think he hasn’t got the break-up memo.’

  ‘Are you going to answer him?’

  I switch the ringer to silent and tuck my phone away where I can’t see or feel it. ‘I’m sorry if this has made work awkward for you.’

  Adam shakes his head. ‘Honestly, it’s fine.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not though, is it?’ I ask. ‘You know, he reminds me of that Gerry Rafferty song, where he sings about thinking you have everything, but realising you were wrong.’

  Adam starts humming ‘Baker Street’. ‘I only wish you had given me the heads up so I could be prepared.’

  A tap at the window from one of Adam’s old school friends interrupts our conversation. There are excited faces and finger phones and phone numbers scribbled on a napkin and held up to the window.

  ‘Ah, that’s great.’ Leaning into the window, he grins and waves as they disappear down the street.

  ‘Remember that thing Mum used to do?’ I ask. ‘Tell me your favourite thing that happened to you this week.’

  Mum would do this if she knew we were upset or worried. Concentrate on the good and the rest falls away, she’d say. Adam rubs at his temples and considers his options. Flirting with a random woman in the queue at a café yesterday, he says.

  ‘It was nice to just feel that flutter?’ He jiggles a hand by his chest as if to illustrate the point. ‘You know what I mean? She was incredibly sweet, but totally unaware of it. Good banter, too.’

  I smile and thank the waiter who brings our food. ‘I do love a good bit of bants.’

  Adam is grateful for the change of pace. Childhood muscle memory kicks in, passing condiments back and forth. As if we notice it at the same time, we both freeze, him with pepper suspended in the air between us and me handing out more napkins. I laugh and snatch the pepper away.

  ‘Hey, so, can I ask you something?’ Adam asks, seemingly more sober than he was earlier.

  I tip my head as if I don’t understand. ‘You know you can.’

  He concentrates on his meal, tearing his pudding apart. ‘How did you know it was over? With John, I mean.’

  Ah, there it is. The admission I’d known was coming for months. What strikes me is that the question comes in such a casual manner, as if this isn’t the most important conversation we’ve had in years. Instead of being relieved that he’s finally said something, I feel a terrible sadness wash over me. This sucks.

  ‘You mean aside f
rom that rubbish at the fancy corporate dinner?’ I pop a lump of potato in my mouth.

  Annoyed, he narrows his eyes like that’s not quite how he meant it. ‘But what about before that?’

  I place my cutlery aside and fold my hands in my lap. ‘Right, so there were a few things that had been bubbling away, things we’d talked about, things I’d wanted to talk about, but that had never been resolved.’

  ‘I think he’s realised his mistake, by the way. All I’ve heard this week is “She was the best thing that ever happened, and I let her go.”’

  ‘Well, if he had made a bit of an effort to define what we were.’ I glare knowingly at Adam. ‘Or, you know, let me introduce him to family.’

  ‘He really didn’t go in for any of that?’

  ‘Didn’t want to do family, friends, social functions, any of it.’ I slice the air with a hand. ‘Which is ridiculous when you think about it. Guy’s prepared to sit through a law degree but can’t sit through a Sunday roast. Even dumber is the fact I went along with it for so long.’

  ‘Well, exactly.’ Adam digs about his plate. ‘Sticking out a degree doesn’t exactly scream commitment-phobe.’

  ‘Adam, he refused to go to Lainey’s wedding with me. Point blank.’ I place my fork down. ‘And every time I thought we might finally sit down and, you know, define things, he made some excuse about having to work.’

  His lips curl. ‘But he’s just so dogged about everything else in his life.’

  I raise my brows. ‘You’re telling me.’

  ‘But, I mean, how do you even have a relationship with someone who works that much anyway?’ he asks. ‘I refuse to believe the guy even sleeps.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t much of a relationship, was it?’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  Satisfied that our conversation has taken something of a confessional turn, I shift in my seat before I ask, ‘So, is it over? Has Sophie moved out? We haven’t seen her around for a while.’

  Adam shakes his head. ‘No. I think it’ll be me doing the moving out.’

  ‘I hear there’s a flat in Camberwell going cheap.’ Even though I’m trying desperately to keep things optimistic, something heavy has settled in my chest and I feel that weight in a shuddering breath. ‘Does Dad know?’

  ‘No. I’m not sure how to tell him.’

  ‘I won’t say anything,’ I say. ‘It’s your business to tell.’

  ‘Having said that, I’m not even sure it’s over. We had this massive row a few months back. I’m talking full on screaming match and it’s been one thing after the other since.’ He dithers about. ‘So, it’s like when you know something’s wrong, but no one’s saying anything? It’s the bogeyman who’ll go away if only you don’t acknowledge him.’

  ‘Have you talked about it at all?’

  ‘Ah, tried that.’ He nods. ‘More arguing. So, I actually don’t know where I stand.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I guess the reason I mention that, in a roundabout way—’ he taps his coaster on the table and looks over at the bar ‘—is because I think you should call John and make sure he knows that it’s over.’

  ‘I thought I made it clear enough.’ I frown, confused. ‘But I’ll throw your offer back at you. Buy me a drink and I’ll call him.’

  ‘You’re on.’ Adam shuffles off his seat and disappears.

  As he disappears, I pull my phone from my pocket and look at another text message that’s come through. It rankles me, but if I do this quickly, get it over and done with, I can get on with my night. Fifteen minutes, tops, and I’ll be on my way. I stare at John’s number tapped out on the screen for an uncounted moment before I hit dial.

  ‘Kate.’ Relief washes through his voice, so much so I think twice about correcting him. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Just returning your call,’ I say. ‘Calls.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Fine, thank you. You?’ I stuff a finger in my ear to hear him better over the din of the pub. A DJ is setting up for the night in the front corner and a rowdy group of guys have just shoved their way through the door and to the bar.

  ‘I’m not so bad.’ He clears his throat. ‘I’m glad you called, actually.’

  ‘You are?’

  ‘Katharine, I am so ashamed of how I behaved,’ he blurts like he’s been holding his breath all week. ‘I was completely awful, and I put you in a terrible position and I want you to know that if I had my time again, I would do so many things differently. Not just that night, but everything.’

  ‘I appreciate that, thank you.’ I bow my head into silence, unsure of what I’m supposed to say next.

  ‘Katharine?’

  ‘Yes?’ I try.

  ‘I would do things differently.’

  ‘I heard you,’ I say.

  More silence.

  ‘So, your big move.’ I hear his office chair creak. He’s still in the office. ‘You’re all done? How’d that go?’

  ‘All done,’ I say. ‘I’ve been here a week now.’

  ‘How is it?’ he says. ‘Is everything okay? Do you need anything? Where are you living? Obviously, I’m not asking for details if you don’t want to tell me, I just want to know that you’re okay.’

  ‘It’s really lovely. I’m close to the middle of town and thoroughly enjoying being back in the fold.’ I pull at a loose thread in my jeans. ‘Just spending time with family and settling in. Hoping to get around to old friends in the next few weeks.’

  ‘Oh,’ he says. He tries to sound excited for me, but I can hear the disappointment lingering. ‘Good. Good. I’m glad.’

  ‘Anyway. I’m just having dinner with Adam and he’s told me I should call you, so here I am.’

  ‘Katharine, I’d really like to see you,’ he blurts. ‘I have a lot I’d like to say. In person, that is. It doesn’t feel quite right over the phone. Will you be in London anytime soon?’

  I roll my eyes. Travelling to London negates the idea of him having to do any legwork, which was the root of all this to begin with. The words are there, sitting right at the back of my throat, tickling at my tonsils to get out, but I swallow them down. I’m too exhausted to fight with him.

  I glance up and my eyes lock with Christopher’s. I’m sure I see him frown in concern.

  ‘Not anytime soon. I’ll be down for Lainey’s wedding, and to tidy up a few loose ends, but I won’t be in town for long.’

  ‘Was I supposed to be going to that?’ he asks.

  ‘I asked you at the time and you said no,’ I say. ‘Remember your whole thing about not wanting to get too involved?’

  ‘That backfired, didn’t it?’ he grumbles.

  ‘Yes, it did.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I truly am. I can do better.’

  I don’t know what to say to that, so I clear my throat instead.

  ‘Can you call me when you’re next in town? We’ll grab lunch and talk through this.’

  ‘No. I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ I say. I’m not going to lie, this hasn’t been the easiest option, moving across the country. The best, yes, but not the easiest. I’m not even sure I want to see him; there’s every chance I’d end up in bed with him because it’s oh so easy. ‘I have to go. Be well, John. Goodbye.’

  ‘But, Kate—’

  ‘John,’ I plead.

  ‘What if we could just—’

  ‘Stop.’

  ‘I’m happy to come up and see you.’

  ‘John, listen to me,’ I say. ‘Let me go.’

  He gives a rattly sigh. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘It’s what I need.’ I fiddle with anything that might distract me.

  ‘Goodnight, Kate.’

  Discarding my phone like it’s about to burn me, I look up to find Adam watching me from the bar. Knowing the call is over, he returns with two half-finished drinks.

  ‘All right,’ he says, handing me a glass as he sits down. ‘Do I need to punch him in the face? Please
say yes.’

  Chapter 15

  ‘Katharine, this is amazing!’

  Lainey looks up and around as she twirls across the ground floor, delighting in the sound of her heels clacking against the floorboards. I won’t lie, the echo does have a solidly fancy note to it. Having made good on her promise to visit this weekend (even if I’d written it off as excited ramblings), she’d called from the car park just before ten o’clock.

  Bleary-eyed and having slept through my alarm, I peer down at her from the upstairs window. She looks like she’s stepped out of a country club magazine shoot, with knee-high boots and billowing hair. I race downstairs in my pyjamas and wrap her up in a hug. Until the moment I see her on the back step, clutching coffee cups and beaming a smile up at me, I hadn’t realised just how much I’d missed her company.

  In the time since I moved, we’ve chatted on the phone and have been burning up the messages more than usual as I learn how to update my website, but it’s never quite the same as a tight hug or the total belly laugh that face-to-face physicality can bring.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say, hiding a yawn behind my hand. ‘It’s finally starting to feel like a real thing. I still need to get the darkroom set up, but that’ll be next week, I think. Or the week after.’

  ‘You’re going in for a darkroom?’ she asks. ‘I know you were thinking about it.’

  I shrug. ‘Yeah. There’s a room upstairs across from the flat. It’ll be another tool, whether I develop film for other people or hire the room out to photographers. Income streams and all that.’

  ‘Impressive.’ She retraces her steps back through the room I have earmarked as a gift shop. ‘Everything on track?’

  ‘So far.’ I follow her. ‘Just waiting on paperwork. Permits and stuff. Oh, and I need to sort through all the artists who’ve contacted me. And one hundred other things I’ve probably forgot about.’

  ‘I’m so excited. It’s looks amazing when you see the photos online, but it’s so much better in person. You must be thrilled?’

  ‘I really am.’ I cross my fingers as I point in the direction of the stairs. ‘Come and check out my new flat.’

  ‘Oh my gosh, yes.’ She darts past and takes the steps two at a time. ‘How are you finding living here? It must be strange to be back.’