Page 78 of Walkoff Wedding

He insisted on walking me all the way to class, even though I assured him I could make it the rest of the way without his help.

Once we’re outside the door to my art class, I turn to him, my brow arched. “I have to go. Unless you plan on becoming an art student this late in your college career?”

His smirk spreads into a broad smile. “I mean, I have many talents. But… that is not one of them. See you later?”

I nod. But as I turn to walk away, he catches my hand, halting me. He pulls me to him and kisses me so fiercely that it has my body trembling. His soft yet firm lips capture mine, his tongue sweeping inside my mouth and dancing with mine in a way that I’m not sure is entirely decent for an audience.

A few catcalls and whistles later, he releases me with a grin, his dark ocean eyes hazy and unfocused. “Now, that’s the kind of goodbye a husband needs from his wife, ArtGirl.”

There’s still this part of me that can’t believe that somehow we’ve ended up in this marriage together, regardless of the events that led us here. The lines feel like they’re blurring more and more each day, but I’m too afraid to say anything or mention how I feel because I’m worried that while it seems like he’s interested in… the physical, I’m not sure that he would be interested in more, and the thought of things ending and him no longer being in my life scares me.

For the most brief moment, when he got the call from his agent, I was terrified that it would be over. Even though technically only one side of the arrangement would have been fulfilled, there was still this intrusive thought that he would leave.

That I’d go back to being alone.

I never knew how truly lonely I was until I met Grant. Sure, I have Earl and Amos and Auggie. And I love them dearly. It’s just… it’s not the same as what Grant gives me.

With him, I feel more like myself than I’ve ever been. I’m happier… lighter. The world doesn’t feel like it’s weighing down on my shoulders as heavily when we’re together.

And as much as I love that feeling, it also terrifies me. I’m scared of what it’s going to be like when it’s over. How will I ever be able to go back to the way it was before I met him?

“Ms. Arceneaux. Good morning!” Dr. Gatti says suddenly from beside me, causing me to jump in surprise. I was too lost in Grant and my thoughts to notice his approach. Not sure how I missed him with his bright teal brocade blazer and matching pants, but clearly, I wasn’t paying attention.

He’s got on a matching shiny, iridescent silver headband and chandelier earrings that are made of a string of crystals in various shades of blue.

“Bergeron,” Grant interjects suddenly.

My art professor turns to face him with a look of confusion written on his face. His thick, bushy brows pinched together. “Pardon me?”

“Her last name. It’s Bergeron. She got married.” His mouth tilts up into a smug grin, seemingly proud of himself for the way he just publicly claimed me as his.

Dr. Gatti’s face lights up, a smile overtaking his face at the news. “Well, then, congratulations are in order. I wish you both many years of happiness. I adore young love. It’s so inspiring. So full of wonder and possibility. Finding your muse in a spouse for life… hang on to that, my dears. It is truly something special.”

Dr. Gatti has always been my favorite professor, not only because he’s incredibly talented and an incredible teacher but because he reminds me of Amos with his eccentric, larger-than-life personality.

“Thank you,” I whisper, cutting my eyes to Grant, who’s grinning cheekily. “I appreciate that.”

“We have a little bit of a snafu on our hands today, unfortunately, so this was just what I needed to brighten my day,” he adds, reaching up to rub his temples, exhaling loudly. “Our model for today canceled at the last minute. Food poisoning from bad sushi, unfortunately. I’ve been planning this for months, and it’s going to mess up the entire syllabus.”

Darn. Even though I was considering skipping today with Grant, I was actually looking forward to painting a live subject. It’s not something I usually do.

“I could do it,” Grant says nonchalantly.

Both of our gazes whip to him, my mouth parted in… shock?

“I mean… only if my wife was okay with it that is,” he adds.

Pretty sure hearing him call me his wife will never get old, especially when it’s around other people, which I guess is the point… but still. I kind of love the way he’s making a statement about… us.

“I’m totally good. I mean, it’s your junk that will be on display, big guy.” I pat his chest teasingly, and he captures my hand with a laugh, hauling me to him.

My heart still races when he touches me, but it’s different than it was in the beginning. Now it races because of how much I love it. I’m comfortable with Grant in a way I haven’t been with another person, and it happened so gradually I can’t actually pinpoint the moment that things began to change. Only that it feels inherently different.

“Hmmmm. You know this might actually be the perfect sprinkle of kismet,” Dr. Gatti muses as he stares at my husband with a curious expression. He drags his gaze down his body in a slow perusal, then circles Grant, stroking his short goatee before moving back in front of him. “Would you mind… taking off your shirt?”

“Sure. I would be doing something great for the art department, and my wife is such an activist for the arts… seems like a no-brainer, right?”

Grant looks at me, and when I shrug, he slides his backpack off his shoulders, dropping it to the floor, then reaches behind his neck and pulls his T-shirt off.

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