“A quick divorce might make me look like the kind of guy who uses people and throws them away. That’s not great when I’m trying to rebuild things.” His hand absently drifts to his shoulder.
We sit there in silence for a moment, both of us processing the implications.
“So what are you suggesting?” I ask finally.
“I’m leaving for a series of away games early tomorrow morning. I’ll be gone for a few days. Maybe we can use that time to think about this.”
“Think about staying married?”
“Temporarily.” Lane’s voice is careful, like he’s testing the words. “Just until we figure out the best way to handle this in a way that doesn’t hurt eitherof us.”
I want to say no immediately. Want to insist that we find a way to end this as swiftly as possible, before it gets any more complicated than it already is.
Then I look at the photo strip again, at the evidence of the connection we made before hypnosis ever entered the picture. And I think about the way Lane looked at me when he told me that he’s not his father.
Part of me—the part that chose him last night, whether I was hypnotized or not—wants to find out if that’s true.
Letting out a long-held breath, I say, “Okay, we’ll think about it.”
Lane smiles and relief transforms his entire face. He moves toward the door, and I catch a hint of his scent—fresh mint and winter air with a hint of cedar. It’s completely different from the cinnamon and vanilla that I’m used to, but it also reminds me of a place Bibi and Papa called home.
CHAPTER 8
Seatedon the wooden bench beside me, Mikey Cruz laces up his skates and bumps me with his elbow. “Sheridan, how’s married life treating you?”
The locker room erupts in laughter, and I resist the urge to throw my dirty socks at him.
We’re in Ottawa for an away game against the Outlaws, and apparently, my teammates have decided that my accidental marriage is the most entertaining thing to happen to the Knights all season.
“Must be nice having someone to come home to,” Clark Culpepper, left forward, chimes in, grinning like I discovered the secret to the universe.
Jack, our center, says, “No more lonely freezer dinners.”
Hayden Savage adds, “I bet Nina showers you with fresh pastries and bread day and night. Living the dream, man.”
“It’s not like that,” I mutter, focusing intently on taping my stick. “It’s been less than a week and we were married by a hypnotist. At best, it’s?—”
“If you’re going to tell us it’s complicated, forget it. Loveis the most straightforward thing there is,” Pierre Arsenault says simply and somewhat aggressively.
Several guys nod like he just dispensed profound wisdom. After everything that went down with Xoe, I beg to differ.
She told me she loved me. I replied in kind. But whatever is going on between Nina and me, as fast as it’s happening, feels different.
“Being back in your homeland must be going to your head,” I mutter since Pierre is originally from Montreal.
Then I recall that many of them are married and whether they’re Cobbiton locals or not, they’ve adopted the town and its inhabitants, Nina included, as their own. That means they’ll be protective of her, especially since it appears she’s good friends with many of their wives, fiancées, and girlfriends.
“Did you see the video?” Fletch asks, pulling his jersey over his head.
“Who didn’t see it? We were there in person.” Liam scrunches up his face.
Fletch shrugs. “I may have been distracted.”
Someone coughs, and I hear the distinct name “Bree” amidst the mock-hacking. I’ve gathered that she is Fletch’s wife and that they had something of a mail-order marriage, which I didn’t know existed in the modern day.
Redd says, “You two looked like you were meant for each other. Very romantic.”
“Very hypnotized,” I correct.
