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There’s a light knock. “Guys, I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

I fling the door wide and Caleb Benz, the guy who arranged this shitshow of a night, jumps. He looks even more innocent than Maverick. A sweet cherub face and big green eyes.

“Nope, you wanted a dancer, and I’m a dancer.” I rush toward the dining room, willing anger to evaporate my tears.

“Hello, sorry for the delay,” I greet the drunk and restless hockey team. “My info says you’re a New York sportsball team throwing a bachelor party and you need a dancer for choreographing. Are we doing a team dance or just the happy couple? Don’t worry, I’m discreet and signed the NDA. Where are my grooms?” I cast a flirty glance around the room.

I purposely asked Lo if the team plays hockey, and he asked me if hockey uses balls. When I said no, he assured me this team definitely plays with some sort of ball. I got dragged into this because Lo went on a date and I’m the only one the agency owner trusts not to out these guys. He owes me big time for this. A debt so big it might never be paid.

I clock the visible relief when I mention the NDA and relax until my gaze catches on two familiar faces. Which brings the total to three people I have history with in this room. The only thing keeping me from fleeing is the agency’s reputation. It’s not their fault Lo is a terrible friend and hockey illiterate.

I’ll have to come clean before this is over, but one problem at a time.

“Benzy, you’re so thoughtful.” A man slightly taller than me steps forward, gushing. “I’m Trevor, one of the grooms, and this is my fiancé, Patrik Liska.” He beckons over an enormous man, and I recognize him from stalking Maverick. He’s the Enforcers’ goalie.

“Do you have music picked out, or do you need help?” I ask, keeping my back to Maverick. If I see his expression, I might cave, throw myself at him, and forget all the reasons I left him first.

“Ve have some ideas,” Patrik says in his Czech accent, and pulls out his phone.

Two hours. I’ll be okay if I get through the next two hours.

“Could you help us vith both a team dance and our first dance as husbands?”

I paste a smile on my face. “Sure, be happy to. Are you envisioning an entrance dance where the groomsmen walk in and then the team jumps in? And then you’re announced as a couple? Or do you prefer to keep the entrances and dances separate?”

“A walk-in dance sounds fun,” Trevor says with heart eyes aimed at Patrik, who agrees.

I survey the room for space.

“We moved everything out of the way in the living room,” Caleb Benz offers.

I defer to Patrik and Trevor, who agree. “Ve’ve got surround sound,” Patrik says.

As we move out of the dining room, Mav appears at my side. “Can we talk?”

“I’m working,” I hiss, unable to stop myself. There is only so much heartbreak I can endure in a single day.

“After?” His hazel eyes beg me.

“I have class.” I exaggerate the time frame.

“You can skip a class for me,” Mav huffs.

I round on him. “When would you ever skip something related to your job for me?” I hit him with my most judgmental once-over look. “I’m the teacher,” I say, speeding away from him.

Some of the guys are talented dancers, and that makes my job easy. I keep it simple, and the team eagerly joins in. Jamal King is a fantastic dancer, but his boyfriend is rhythm deficient and tries to kill me with his stare.

I assume Jamal told O’Keefe how we met.

King is bulkier after being in the NHL for over a year. Go figure. But he has the same aqua eyes, brown skin, intricate braids, and bright smile.

King plays on Mav’s line, and his boyfriend, Theo O’Keefe, is a defender.

Once the team has memorized the steps and can teach each other, I steel myself to approach the non-hockey group of friends, including Emmet.

“Hey, Lark.” Emmet greets me with a hug I endure as air exits my lungs with a low hiss. “I want you to meet my husband, Jayce, and our wife, Madyson.” He uses the name I chose for myself.

“Wow, look at you.” I grin at him, happy he found his way off the streets. “I wondered what happened to you when I returned to get another tattoo and you were gone.”