… and the way my lips still tingle from our midnight kiss.
CHAPTER 5
I wakeup alone on New Year’s Day to the sound of my phone having what can only be described as a nuclear meltdown.
Buzz.Ping.Chime. Repeat.
For a moment, lying in the unfamiliar hotel bed with Las Vegas sunshine streaming through blackout curtains that aren’t doing their job, I almost convince myself that last night was a vivid and elaborate dream. The kind where I wake up laughing at how ridiculous my subconscious can be.
Moon rocks for socks? I mean, really.
Hot dog fingers? Come on.
An edible geode? You can’t make this stuff up.
Then I see the simple gold band on my left ring finger, and reality comes crashing back like a body check into the boards.
I’m married.
To a woman I met exactly once, over a three-hour span of time, most of which we spent under hypnosis.
My phone buzzes again. It pings. Chimes. I finally give in and look at it. Fifty-two missed calls. Ninety-three textmessages. And notifications from social media platforms I didn’t even know I had accounts on.
The latest text is from one of my teammates.
Hudson: Dude, you’re EVERYWHERE. Nice work keeping that low profile.
The second is from my sports agent.
Vinny: Call me. NOW.
The third is from my sister.
Desi: LANE!!! Is this real?? She’s gorgeous!! Call me back or I’m showing up at your door!
I’d rather she not. My sister is a handful on the best of days.
I scroll through more messages, each one making my stomach sink further. Someone posted the video of our “ceremony,” and apparently, the internet has decided it’s the most romantic thing they’ve ever seen. There are already memes. People are calling Nina my “true love” and hockey pundits are speculating about “my secret romance with my mystery bride.”
One headline readsNHL Player’s Surprise New Year’s Eve Vegas Wedding Melts Hearts across the Nation.
I scroll to anotherFrom Ice to Altar: Lane Sheridan Jr. Finds Love in Sin City. Will it last?
And my personal favorite,Like Father, Like Son: Hockey Legend’s Son Gets Lucky at Midnight Wedding.
Great. They’re dragging Dad into this now.
I click on the video that’s been shared approximately seventy-five thousand times in the last eight hours. It’s Nina and me, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes like we’ve been in love for years instead of minutes.
The camera caught things I didn’t notice while it washappening. The way Nina’s face softened when she looked at me. The smile that spread across her features when I said, “I do.” The moment when she touched my cheek before we kissed, like she was checking if I was real.
And me ... I look completely gone. Not vacant or even hypnotized, not coerced. Just ... my brow rumples at the word that comes to mind.Smitten. That can’t be right.
I don’t get smitten. Ever since Xoe, I get cautious, suspicious. I definitely don’t get married to strangers under unusual circumstances. Or any circumstances.
Except, apparently, I do.
My phone rings, jolting me out of my video analysis—I’d much rather be watching hockey highlights. It’s from an unknown number.
