My thoughts slide between the ice rink of my childhood and this moment on stage, between the player I was and whoever I’m becoming, between the cynical man who walked into this party and someone who might actually believe in second chances.
Or first chances.
Or whatever this is.
The last coherent thought I have before the golden haze takes over completely is that my teammates are never going to let me live this down.
Somehow, I’m not sure that I care.
CHAPTER 4
I surfacefrom this surreal experience to thunderous applause along with a familiar song, but I can’t quite place it. I’m aware that it’s New Year’s Eve, but the tune isn’t “Auld Lang Syne.”
Did we miss the countdown? I recall Lucian saying,Three,two,one, but no one shoutedHappy New Year!
My entire body goes still and I’m pretty sure my heart stops for a beat.
The song playing is from a wedding—the classic recessional march.
That’s my first clue that something has gone spectacularly wrong.
I look around, my heart now in my throat, trying to figure out what’s happening.
The second clue is the slight pinch on my hand—something that definitely wasn’t there when I went under hypnosis. I squeeze my eyes closed and then open them, trying to clear the golden fog from my vision, and look down to find a simple gold band wrapped around my ringfinger.
A wedding ring.
I blink in time with the music as if waking from a dream.
“Nina!” Bree’s voice cuts through my confusion like an alarm clock. “That was incredible!”
I’m still on stage and holding hands with the gorgeous stranger with green eyes—Lane, I remember now. Judging by the matching ring on his finger, we’re both having the same slow-dawning realization.
The crowd is on its feet, cheering like the Knights just scored the winning goal in overtime. Confetti and balloons fall like colorful rain from above us. Cameras flash and people cheer.
All I can think is that this feels remarkably like the aftermath of a wedding.
Because it was a wedding.
My wedding.
To a complete stranger.
Lane’s hand tightens around mine, and when I look up at him, his expression mirrors exactly how I feel: confused, stunned, and rapidly approaching panic.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lucian announces into his microphone, “let’s give our happy couple one more round of applause!”
Happy couple.The words hit me like a rolling pin to the stomach.
“Did we just—?” I start, but my voice comes out as a croak.
“Get married?” Lane finishes, his voice rough.
“I think we did.”
We both jerk our heads toward Lucian, who smiles like he just did us the greatest of favors.
The strange and impossible reality of this crashes over me like a tidal wave.
