But I don’t call any of them. I google my own name and there it is. A headline on TMZ Sports. ‘Nash Westwood Weds Tenley Garrison in Super-Secret Ceremony.’
I call Tenley.
She answers immediately. “I can’t talk right now.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I snap. “Why does TMZ think we’re married?”
“Because someone told them,” she snaps back. “And no, I don’t know who.”
"Well, I'm completely fucked!" I start pacing, every nerve in my body is vibrating. I'm so fucking angry.
“That’s too bad. I’m so broken up about that and I would love to listen while you spiral in your misery and find a way to blame me for it,” she says like the snarky bitch she is, “but my parents are on their way here now to disown me, so gotta go! Later hubby.”
“Tenley!”
But she hangs up. Not another word. I do something that surprises even me. I hurl my phone across the room. It hits the polished concrete wall with a sickening bang and lands on the floor, pieces of the screen scatter everywhere. I don’t even fucking care that it’s only three weeks old. How did this get leaked? What a nightmare. I can’t comprehend how this is happening.
I drop my towel, leave it in a heap, storm into my walk-in closet, and throw on clothes. I'm very particular about how I dress, normally, but today I just grab whatever I see first. I'm at my front door shoving my feet into some leather sneakers when the door handle starts to turn. The only person who has a key in the country is Crew so I'm not surprised when his head pops inside. "Hey. I tried calling you but you didn't answer so I thought I would come by and drive you to practice."
“I can drive myself.”
“Dude, you’ve got people to call. Mom, Dad, Charlie.” He clears his throat awkwardly. “And maybe your wife.”
“I broke my phone,” I bark. “And if you use the word wife again, I’m open to the idea of breaking my fist on your jaw.”
“Whoa.” He doesn’t look at all how my brother has looked his entire life. He’s always been so lighthearted his lips are in perpetual smirk-mode. His eyes dance. Now he looks somber and worried. “I told you not to freak out.”
“No one was supposed to know. This is not an actual thing,” I say and the stress in my voice is so thick I’m almost choking on it. “I gotta call Coach and Christine back.”
I run my hands through my hair. I didn’t put any product in it and I’m sure it’s sticking up everywhere. Crew walks over to the sleek teak table by my front door. He grabs my keys and hands them to me. And then, as his phone rings, he hands that to me. I see Mom on the screen and try to hand it back to him. He won’t take it and holds my front door open. “You have to deal with it at some point. Do it while I drive you to the arena.”
Fuck.
For some reason facing my mom with this news is the scariest. Even scarier than my dad and he’s the one who cares about image and endorsement deals and what the league thinks, not her. I take the phone. “Hi. It’s Nash.”
“Good,” she says. “I was hoping Crew had gone to be with you. I wish I could be there.”
“Yeah. He’s taking me to the arena. We have practice and I have to talk to the coach and PR about… well, you know what about.” I sigh as we walk down the hall toward the outdoor staircase that will lead us to the parking out back instead of taking the elevator where the phone signal might cut out.
“Look, I know you don’t do well with being the center of attention for something off the ice,” Mom says, her voice calm and soft. “But remember how many people are on your side. The team will fight this rumor for you. You just lean on your brother and focus on your game.”
Even though I’m more like my dad in personality, I am closer to my mom. She truly believes with all her heart there is no way this is anything more than a wild rumor. “Mom…”
“Honey, I know this is a lot for you, but… wait…” I think the tone of how I said “Mom” has finally reached her brain and the alarm bells have started going off. “Why did you say Mom like that? It’s… it is a rumor, right? It is.”
“It isn’t.” I hold my breath.
“What?”
“It isn’t a rumor.”
“Nash Sebastian Westwood… What the actual fuck?”
I spend most of the ride to the arena on the phone with my mom trying to get her to understand that her level-headed, low-risk, quiet, rule-abiding son decided to get drunk and marry a girl he barely knows and definitely doesn’t even like. Mom is stunned, but thankfully, she doesn’t lecture me or tell me she’s disappointed. I couldn’t handle that right now. I’m not a mama’s boy, but her opinion means a lot to me. Same with my dad, which is why I tell her I can’t speak to him right now. He isn’t as subtle about his feelings as my mom and I can’t handle the thought of his reaction.
She says she will break it to him, and we’ll talk later. Christine is literally standing outside the locker room door as we approach. I hand Crew’s phone back to him. “Go easy on him,” Crew says to her. “It’s his first fuck-up.”
“Yes, I thankfully haven’t had to deal with him since I started here,” Christine replies, folding her arms over her pale pink sweater.
