Page 138 of 10 Ways to Accidentally Fall in Love

A tear slips down Joey’s cheek, one he quickly wipes away. I let my own fall, not willing to look away from the man who tumbled into my life at the moment I needed him most. The one who loves me formeand always has.

“I thought I was finding myself,” I tell my husband. “But instead, I found you. So here’s to Joey Francis Delgado-Bradley.”

I lift my champagne glass off the table, and behind me, I can hear our guests doing the same.

“To my husband. My gym-bro turned bestie turned partner. My confidant and supporter. My great love. Here’s to a lifetime of bennies and laughter together. I love you, my Joey-roo.”

“Hear, hear,” our guests call out, glasses clinking, people clapping. I touch the lip of my glass to Joey’s across the table before taking a sip, him doing the same.

“Get over here, bub,” he says, standing. I round the table, placing the mic and my laminated list on the end, our guests chatting again now that my toast is over.

“Look,” I tell him cheekily, holding up my unblemished hands. “No blood.”

“You did good,” he says, those big arms coming around me, his fingers sifting up into my hair. “I didn’t know you were going to do that.”

“I still have some surprises up my sleeve.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks. “Anything else I should be aware of?”

“Well,” I say slowly. “I might’ve booked us for a naked body painting workshop during our honeymoon. The paint is edible.”

I waggle my eyebrows, and Joey huffs a laugh. “I suppose now is a good time to admit I scheduled a photoshoot for when we get back.”

“Nooo. With Gianna?”

“Mhm,” he hums, hands slipping down my back. “She’s coming to our house this time. And I might’ve requested a…carpentry theme in front of the wainscoting.”

“Joey,” I breathe. “Tool belts?”

“Tool belts,” he confirms.

I groan, and he laughs lightly, his lips feathering across my cheek.

“It’s never boring with you,” he says. “That’s for sure.”

“Is that what you’d hoped for? A lifetime of excitement?”

He hums, the two of us swaying slightly as if dancing to a silent beat. “Do you remember what I wished for?”

I think back, his words sparking a memory. “Happiness,” I recall. “On our first non-date date, you said if you could wish for anything, it’d be happiness.”

“I found that with you.”

“Fuck, Joey.”

His eyes catch mine, so full of love I have trouble swallowing.

“Every day with you is my new favorite day, bub. Yes, we have fun. But more than that, you make me so damn happy I have trouble remembering what that word meant before you. You made it something different. Something our own. I’m so unbelievably lucky I get to spend the rest of my days as your husband, sharing that happiness with you.”

My lips tremble as I press them softly to Joey’s, inhaling through my nose, the scent of freshly cut wood—of sawdust—an ever-present familiarity whenever he’s near. I let it settle in my lungs, let him flow through my veins and fill my heart.

It’s strange to think back to the day I met Joey. When I felt like a lone bee in search of some sort of companionship. Turns out I didn’t need a flower at all. My ideal partner came with thick-as-fuck hammies and the perfect kangaroo pouch for me to sink right into,aaandshit. It got weird again.

No worries. Joey’s my man. And he loves me, weirdness and all.

I guess it’s pretty fortuitous I found myself tripping headfirst into accidental love with him. It led us here, didn’t it? Walking down the aisle together. Saying ourI dos. Sharing a kiss as husbands.

Fuck. My husband.

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