I did as he bade me, still too shocked to do more than follow directions.
I was married.
My name was Ida Jane Barlow Dolov. My husband was a professional hockey player. And I barely understood the sport. I barely knew the man.
Panic took hold. “What the hell was I thinking?”
“Ida Jane Barlow…Dolov! Do not cuss in front of an officiant,” Mama scolded from Maxim’s pocket.
“Sorry, Mama,” I said, the response habitual. Then I tipped my head back and stared up at Maxim’s face. “They heard the whole ceremony?” Maxim knew how important my family was to me, so for him to include them—I gulped, those emotions pushing forward again.
“Of course,” he said, as if he hadn’t done something sweet. He looked like he wanted to squirm, so I rose on my tiptoes and pressed my lips to his.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
Justice Ingram chuckled again. “All right, you love birds. You’re all documented.” He handed me my phone, which I gave to Maxim. I didn’t have pockets or a purse.
“Let me finish up your papers so it’s legal and not just social media legit,” the justice of the peace said.
Did the sixty-year-old just talk about social media status? I felt like I’d fallen into an alternate universe. None of this could be real, could it?
I stared down at the gold band encircling my finger while Maxim spoke to my parents.
And now I was married. With a gorgeous wedding band in a simple but lovely service where Maxim kept his gaze fixed on me the entire time. He never wavered, not in saying his vows, not in slipping on the ring, not when it came to signing the document. I was a complete mess after he seemed so sure.
He offered me his phone, and I spoke to my parents, who told me that Maxim had promised another ceremony where they could take part.
Again, I stared up at the man I was legally bound to, shocked by his thoughtfulness. When I’d first met him, I’d seen his tenderness—his worry for me. He’d gotten me ice, contacted me to make sure I was safe.
Realization hit: Maxim wasn’t sure how to show others his love…or ask to be loved.
Realization two was a bigger bomb: I was already halfway in love with him.
* * *
Maxim
The gold band on my finger made me want to both vomit and cheer, a combination I hadn’t felt since my first professional game. Ida Jane made me lose my ever-fucking mind.
I hated taking it off. I’d only been wearing it mere hours, but I felt its weight. With great care, I ensured it was secure in my wallet. No way was I losing it.
“Why weren’t you on the flight?” Cruz asked. I turned to find him, Stol, Naese, and Cormac at my locker. Their expressions were all inquisitive, some—like Cruz’s—seeming murderous.
“Coach gave me dispensation to travel with Ida Jane last night.” My chest puffed out, and I grinned—wide and proud. “We got married this morning.”
“Holy fucking shit. What’s your face doing?” Stol asked.
“He’s smiling, numb nuts,” Cruz snapped.
Naese shifted. “He looks scary. Like you.” He elbowed Cruz, who didn’t seem to notice.
Cormac tipped his head. “Because of the Green Card situation?”
My expression slid into a scowl. Why’d he have to bring that up?
“What Green Card situation?” Naese asked.
“What’s going on, Maximum?” Stol asked.
