Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You
Chapter 173: Accidental

Chapter 173: Accidental

Rebecca

"Come on, Rebecca!" Megan calls, waving me over to the living room floor where she’s spread out a constellation of colored paper, glue sticks, glitter, and oh god...sequins everywhere.

It’s an explosion, the kind that would set most parents off, but Marcus just walks by with a mug of coffee and an arched brow, like he’s fully resigned himself to a home decorated in sparkle.

"Dad says you’re crafty," Megan says, inspecting me with the sly authority of someone who knows the rules and fully intends to break them.

"Rumors of my craftiness have been greatly exaggerated," I say, easing onto the floor and crossing my legs in a way I hope doesn’t look like the world’s most awkward yoga pose. "But I can hot glue with the best of them."

She grins, and there it is again—that inescapable pull that makes it so easy to see this little person as a person, not just a kid.

"We need to make a model of the solar system. Out of snacks. It’s for science," she adds, with the forced gravitas of an academic under scrutiny. I’ve never seen someone gets so excited with Science!

"Well," I say, rolling up my sleeves, "you’ve come to the right place. I minored in Snack-Based Astronomy."

Megan giggles. It is a fourth laugh, I note, and immediately hands me a marshmallow and a pipe cleaner. "Make Pluto," she commands.

I gasp in mock outrage. "Pluto is a planet in this house?"

Megan’s face turns solemn. "It might be tiny, but it’s important."

"Solidarity," I agree.

Together we start piecing together the edible universe, arguing over the relative merits of gummy worms versus Twizzlers for Saturn’s rings, and whether Reese’s Pieces are "scientifically accurate" for asteroids or not.

Megan insists the real trick is getting the scale right; I argue the real trick is not eating the project as we go.

Marcus hovers at the edge of the kitchen, pretending to read emails but clearly tracking every moment, the corners of his mouth twitching every time Megan trounces me with an astronomy fact.

"Do you think you and Dad will get married?" Megan suddenly asks.

I nearly choked on my Diet Coke. "Wow. That’s a...that’s a big question."

Megan shrugs, her shoulders rising and falling with a casual grace. "I just want Dad to be happy," she says, her voice tinged with a sincerity that belied her youthful face. "He puts on this act, trying to seem cheerful when he’s around me, but I can tell it’s not real. And I think you genuinely make him happy. Like, truly happy."

Her words struck me with the force of a direct hit. My eyes flutter rapidly, as if trying to ward off the emotional tide welling up inside, a mix of warmth and a tender ache in my chest. "Thank you, Megan," I manage to say, my voice slightly unsteady. "That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me."

She grins broadly, her smile illuminating her face with a contagious brightness. "You can call me Maggie, you know. Mom and Dad call me that."

I can’t help but smiling wider. Gosh, this kid is something else. "Maggie it is."

Later, when Megan plopped down for her "twenty-minute decompression time" (her term) with her tablet. Marcus catches me in the kitchen, scooping glitter off the counter.

"She likes you," he murmurs, coming up behind me and kissing the top of my ear.

I tilt my chin. "She seemed like a tough sell. So I count it as a win."

"She’s right, you know. About you making me happy," he says, his voice is deep and raspy.

I spin around, glitter fingers and all. "You’re getting sentimental, Winters."

"I can’t help it." His hands find my waist and he tugs me close, both of us dusted with blue glitter and pizza dough flour. "It’s new. I kind of like it."

I let myself sink into him, just for a moment, content.

Marcus leans in, his stubble brushing my jaw. We both nearly jump as his phone starts ringing.

Marcus stiffens against me and I feel it instantly. The way his fingers still, the warmth in his chest cooling like someone cracked open a window.

He is looking at the phone and his eyes are suddenly dark with emotions.

I follow his gaze.

Natalie.

That’s his sister’s name, isn’t it?

Marcus sighs through his nose, presses his lips together, and doesn’t answer right away. The phone keeps ringing, a shrill pulse in the silence between us.

"Do you need to get that?" I ask gently.

Marcus doesn’t answer right away. His thumb hovers over the screen, conflicted. The name Natalie continues to flash, and even though I’ve only heard her mention that one time, I know there’s history there—unspoken, brittle history.

"I rather not," he says curtly.

My eyebrows lift at the tone. Sharp. Clipped. Like the call itself left a sour taste in his mouth before he even answered it.

But he doesn’t put the phone down either. Just lets it keep vibrating in his hand, a low, persistent buzz like a wasp trapped in a jar.

"What if this is an emergency?" I ask, keeping my voice soft.

Marcus exhales. More of a growl than a sigh, really—and finally hits Decline. The phone goes quiet.

"I will call her back," he mutters.

I hesitate. I don’t know the full story, but the tension is unmistakable—tight across his shoulders, stiff in his jaw. Like a dam holding back a flood he’s not ready to talk about.

"You don’t have to explain," I offer. "Not if you don’t want to."

He glances up at me. There’s something like apology in his eyes, but also gratitude.

"She and I... we’re not close," he says finally, voice low. "Not anymore."

I nod. I don’t push. I don’t need the details to understand the weight of whatever history lives between them.

"I just don’t want her messing up tonight," he adds after a beat, like the words were dragged out of him.

I take a small step forward and slide my arms around his waist, careful not to brush against anything sharp in that cracked place he’s trying to keep hidden.

"She can’t mess anything up," I say firmly. "We’re still here and we will have a great time."

Marcus presses his forehead to mine again. It’s less romantic this time—more of a grounding gesture. Like he’s trying to find center again.

"I’m sorry," he whispers.

"Don’t be." I smile faintly. "But just so you know, if I ever do meet your sister and she makes one snide comment, I will accidentally spill glitter in her purse."

That gets a laugh, low and real. "God, I love you."

The words hit me like a comet. Warm and sudden and pulling me into his orbit before I can brace.

I blink. "What?"

Marcus blinks like he’s just heard himself for the first time. His mouth opens and then closes. He rubs the back of his neck, clearly scrambling for a way to walk it back or smooth it over.

"I mean...I didn’t...that wasn’t..." He winces. "I didn’t mean to drop that on you like like a bowling ball out of the sky."

I just stare at him. Not startled, exactly. But... stilled.

He exhales, slow and shaky. "It slipped out. I wasn’t trying to make things weird or—God." He rubs his hands over his face. "It’s just something people sometimes when..."

"Marcus," I say quietly. "You didn’t freak me out. I know it’s something people say sometimes. I am not a dummy. Stop rambling so much."

"You’re not? Oh good," he says.

"No." I step a little closer. "Don’t worry. I know it’s too soon for that."

Marcus exhales, this time more evenly. "Yeah."

I let out a quiet laugh. "You should’ve seen yourself. Falling in love is not as bad as you think, Marcus."

He squeezes my waist gently. "Yeah. I know that."

For a moment, all the tension between us fades, replaced by a quiet promise. Not rushed. Not forced. Just... something real, waiting to grow.

"You two look like something out of a cheesy romcom movie," comes an accusatory voice from the door.

We both turn toward the doorway, where Megan is standing, arms crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

Marcus chuckles, shaking his head. "I will leave you two your crafting," he says, pointing at the messy table. "I have to go to the studio now. Think you can handle being alone in the house?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

Megan grins without missing a beat.

"Please. We’ve got snacks and science. What could go wrong?"

I smile and wave Marcus off as he grabs his mug and heads out.

Once the door clicks shut behind him, Megan hops up and plops down beside me again.

"So, about those Reese’s Pieces—definitely asteroids, right?"

I laugh, feeling the weight of the day lift just a little.

"Absolutely. Scientific fact," I reply quickly.