My family has a reserved seat for every game, but it's rarely, if ever, filled. Both of my brothers are professional hockey players too, and with my mom’s declining health lately, she doesn’t travel down from Canada much to watch me play.
The seat being empty and available won’t be a problem.
“I’ll make sure the box office has your name for my seat,” I manage. “Unless you’d rather sit in the sky box with the other…” I hesitate, the words catching as I try to process this bizarre situation. “…girlfriends and, um, player’s wives.”
She nods again, still not looking up at me. “The seat is fine.”
I want to see her eyes—those soft, green eyes and that mouth that I haven't stopped thinking about since that night. Her heart-shaped lips had kept me in a trance, replaying the way they curved when she smiled and the way they felt when they got close to my neck as she moved.
Penn was right. Never fall in love with a stripper. Or correction: adancer. And I hadn’t fallen in love, but I hadn’t forgotten about her either.
Butdammit.Seeing her right now has me right back in that chair in the club.
“Okay, so after the game, we’ll head to dinner. I’ll have one of the PR interns make reservations at a spot that’s popular with athletes and paparazzi. That way we get photographed. Will dinner be a problem if you lose?”
My brows drop instantly. “IfI lose? I don’t go into a game thinking I’m going to lose it.”
She sighs, clearly trying to recalibrate. “Sorry. Right. Of course you wouldn’t be thinking about that. I’m not used to working with athletes. I just want to make sure nothing messes up our plans if, you know, things don’t go as...expected.”
I shake my head, a small smirk tugging at my lips. “I’ll be at dinner. Win or lose.”
“Great,” she says, typing something on her tablet. “That’s when I’ll be wearing my ring for the first time in public.”
“Your… ring?” I echo, unsure how we jumped to this next level. Skip dating, skip a proposal, skip a wedding. Straight to wedding rings and carefully curated paparazzi photos.
She nods calmly, but before I can press her further on where this ring is coming from, the door to the conference room swings open. Her older brother Cain—my newlawyer—steps inside, holding a folder in one hand and a small box in the other.
“Here’s the paperwork for you both to sign.”
He slides two copies across the table. The documents are straightforward: legal jargon confirming that we’re entering a binding marriage recognized by the state of New York.
There’s a section where Rosie can indicate whether she wants to change her last name, but it’s already crossed out with a giant blue X. I almost laugh imagining her father doing that part with a growl, but I keep my mouth shut.
I sign first, the pen heavy in my hand as if it knows I’m signing my life away. Rosie doesn’t hesitate when it’s her turn. Her hand moves swiftly, no second-guessing, no pause, as if she’s done this a hundred times before.
And I sure as hell hope she hasn't.
When we’re done, Cain slides a blue velvet box across the table. The unmistakable very expensive jewelry brandlogo that’s located on 5thAvenueis stamped across the top.
Rosie freezes for just a fraction of a second—the first crack I’ve seen in her armor all day—then lets out a quiet sigh as she flips the box open to look inside.
“Cain…”
Her brother nods, a silent exchange passing between them. Some hidden communication I can’t even begin to decipher.
“What’s going on?” I ask, glancing between them. “Is it her mother’s ring or something?” I try to piece it together, but I’ve got nothing. These two operate on a wavelength I’ve never experienced. If I didn’t already know that Cain was older than her, I’d assume they were twins.
Rosie just shakes her head and slides the ring onto her finger without another word. Then she snaps the box shut with more force than necessary and shoves it back at Cain.
“Nothing,” she mutters, voice tight.
Cain collects the paperwork, his expression serious as he levels me with a look that could cut steel. “You’ll be legally married by morning,” he says coolly. “Start acting like it. And while you’re at it, think aboutmy sister’sreputation here too. If you screw this up or get into any more trouble, it’s not justyourname on the line anymore. It’s hers. Got it?”
I hold up my hands in mock surrender, trying not to roll my eyes. “Damn, for a fake marriage, this feels an awful lot like a real one. Already getting bitched out and threatened by my new brother-in-law. Can’t wait for family Christmas dinner when I’m the butt of every joke. And why does everyone think I'm going to mess this up?”
Cain shakes his head and leaves the room without answering me.
The moment he’s gone I shift my attention back to Rosie.
