I am fuming.
It’s been a few days since Ryan told me about the incident with Brittney, and I’m still pissed about it. I immediately tried to call her, but even though she’s been calling me nonstop since Vegas, she didn’t answer. I tried Colter too, and like the coward he is, I got no response.
I think the part that pisses me off the most is that I couldn’t be there to protect her from Brittney’s bullshit.
“Dude, you good?” Collin asks from the stationary bike next to me. “You look like you’re pushing it way harder than normal.”
“I’m fine.” But the words don’t even sound fine to my ears.
“Everything good with you and Ryan?”
“No. Well, yes. But no.”
“Okay, totally not confusing at all.”
I slow my pedaling down. I’m an idiot. Yeah, I’m pissed the fuck off, but I don’t need to punish my body for it. Especially not when we have a game tonight and I need the rest.
I’m just so fucking worked up that I need to release some of this pent-up energy.
“Sorry, man,” I say, wiping the sweat off my forehead. “There was an incident with Brittney while we were in San Jose.”
“What?” He slows his own bike down. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know. I guess Brittney accosted Ryan when she was at the gallery downtown. Came in talking about how she wanted to make sure we were actually married or some shit. Who fucking knows? She’s clearly off her rocker.”
“Dude, she’s always been off her rocker. The way she’s played you with that back-and-forth game…she’s got issues, man.”
“I know. I know I should have listened to you. I know that now. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”
“Yeah, but maybe the situation isn’t so bad anymore. I mean with you being madly in love with your wife and all.”
He looks surprised when I don’t start immediately refuting his claim.
“What? Not going to try to tell me otherwise?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. Getting kind of tired of trying to convince myself it’s not true.”
He grins. “Fucking knew it. You’re in looooove.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, but there’s no bite behind it.
“You hear that, boys?” Collin shouts loudly. “Our boy is in love!”
“Yeah, no fucking shit. He’s married,” Miller says back.
“About damn time,” Lowell mutters.
Collin pats me on the back, and I shrug his hand off. “Stop making it weird, dude. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Not that big of a deal? You’re known for being emotionally unavailable. This is a huge deal.”
I guess he’s right. I am pretty emotionally closed off most of the time. But it’s kind of hard not to be when you’re me. Shit, look at what happened with Brittney. I took a chance with a girl and made myself vulnerable for the first time in a long time, and where did it get me? I got my heart stomped on.
I realize now what I had with her wasn’t love, and I know that because whatever I felt for her pales in comparison to what I feel for Ryan.
With Ryan, it’s this carnal need for her all the time, and not just in a sexual way. I miss her constantly, sometimes even when she’s sitting right next to me. All I want to do is be around her and be with her. I want to celebrate her milestones and her good news, and I want to experience all her downs too.
I never had that with Brittney. Hell, there were some days I couldn’t even stand to be around her. But I settled. I settled because I thought that was all I deserved.
I was so fucking wrong.
Collin hops off the stationary bike, grabbing a towel and wiping his face off. “I’m happy for you, man. Look at us couple of saps in love. Who would have thought?”
Not me, that’s for damn sure.
“I’m going to hit the showers and then get home to grab a nap before the game. And by nap, I mean I’m probably going to snuggle with Harper and the dogs on the couch. Can you believe that woman doesn’t like naps? Who doesn’t nap? Psychos, that’s who.”
Definitely psychos. “I’m going to do a few more miles and then head home myself. I’ll catch you at the game tonight.”
“All right, man. Sounds good.” We bump our knuckles together and he disappears out the door.
I keep going, pushing myself for another three miles. By the time I’m finished, Lowell and Miller have already gone home too, and it’s just me left.
I hit the showers, enjoying the hot water beating down on my back. I didn’t realize just how stressed I was until now, feeling all the knots coming loose in my muscles. This is exactly what I need too. Don’t want to be too keyed up before the game tonight.
When I get back to the lockers, my phone is buzzing against the bench. I look at it, hoping it’s either Brittney or Colter calling me back.
No luck. Just another one of those damn spam calls I’m getting real sick of. Whatever the fuck they’re selling, I don’t want it.
This time I’m just pissed off enough to answer.
“What?” I growl into the phone.
“Oh! You answered! We’ve been trying to reach you—”
“About my car’s extended warranty? No, thanks.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, ready to hit the end call button, then a few choice words catch my attention.
“—Vegas. There was a mistake and—”
I bring the phone back up to my ear. “Wait. What’s going on? Start over.”
The person sighs like they’re exasperated by me. “My name is Debbie and I’m with the Heart Song Chapel here in Las Vegas. We’ve been trying to reach you for quite some time now about your marriage certificate.”
“What about it?”
“Here in Vegas, you have ten business days to file your marriage certificate with the county registrar’s office. If you fail to file your certificate, your marriage is not legal.”
“Yes, but that was included in the package. You would file for us.”
“Correct, sir. However, when they went to file your certificate, they noticed a discrepancy with the signature. Somebody signed as Daisy Duck.”
There must be a mistake. I remember the ceremony. I remember reciting our vows, and I remember signing that document.
There’s no way.
“Sir, are you still there?”
“I’m still here. What…what exactly does this all mean?”
“Your marriage…sir, you are not legally married.”
We lost.
It’s not the first time we’ve lost this season and it won’t be the last, but tonight we lost for one reason and one reason only.
Me.
My head wasn’t even kind of in the game. I couldn’t concentrate for shit. I let the puck just skate by me, I took bad penalties, and I skated like I was playing peewee hockey all over again.
Tonight’s loss is solely on my shoulders.
And it’s all because I’m not married to my wife.
Well, not my wife, apparently.
I still can’t believe it. How could they have let such a huge mistake slip right through their fingers like that? How could we not know? How could we not remember?
And more than that—why? Why did Ryan sign the certificate with a fake name? Does that mean she knew all along we were making a massive mistake? Does that mean even in her crazy drunken haze, she didn’t want to be married to me? Does that mean if I confront her with this truth, she’ll leave me?
I clutch my chest, rubbing at a spot just over my heart.
Coach comes charging into the room, hands on his hips. He’s pissed and disappointed. His eyes land right on me, and he shakes his head with disgust.
That’s okay. I’m disgusted with me too.
“Well, that was…something, and not something good, that’s for damn sure. I expect that the next time we’re out on that ice, we all have our heads in the game and we come out swinging. We got it?”
A round of affirmations goes around the room, but it’s weak.
“I said, do we fucking got it?” Coach yells.
Everyone screams louder this time, me included, because I know that’s what he’s waiting for.
“Good. Now hit the showers and get out of here. I’m tired of looking at you.” He sends me one last pointed glare, then stomps out of the room.
I begin stripping my gear off as Collin slides up next to me.
“Yo, man, what the fuck was that out there? You were playing like dog shit.”
“Not now, Col. I’m not in the mood.”
“Not in the mood? Not in the fucking mood? I don’t give two shits if you’re in the mood or not. You let this entire fucking team down and I want an explanation.”
“What’s that famous NHL quote? It’s always we, never I?”
He does not appreciate my sarcasm one bit, his features falling into a mean scowl that could rival one of my own.
“I don’t know what the fuck is up your ass, but whatever it is, you need to pull it out. It’s not just you out on that ice, you know. It’s not like you to be selfish like that.”
I squeeze my eyes shut because he’s right. It’s not like me. “Having a bad night is all.”
“What’s going on? Talk to me.”
“It’s…” I shake my head. “It’s Ryan.”
His face fills with concern immediately. “Is she okay? What happened?”
“She’s fine. She… I…” I toss myself down onto the bench, cradling my head in my hands.
Collin drops down beside me.
“Dude. What is going on? Did she finally realize you’re ugly and leave you?”
I don’t even have the energy to laugh.
“It’s fake.”
“It’s fake?” He leans closer. “Your marriage?” he whispers. “Yeah, I know. It’s been fake, man.”
“No. It’s really fake.”
“What? What do you mean? I’m not following.”
“She didn’t sign it.”
“Didn’t sign what?”
“The certificate. She didn’t sign the certificate.”
His brows shoot up, finally beginning to understand. “That means…”
“We’re not married. We were never married.”
“Oh fuck.”
Oh fuck indeed.
It’s been three days since I found out about the marriage certificate, and I still haven’t told Ryan.
How exactly do you tell your fake wife she isn’t really your fake wife at all? And how do you tell her when what you really want is for her to be your real wife?
I take a deep breath, hands shaking as I push open the front door.
Tonight. I’ll tell her tonight.
“Hey!” She beams at me. “I thought for sure you’d be at least another hour.”
She’s standing in the kitchen wearing one of my shirts and a pair of little sleep shorts. She’s barefoot, and it’s very obvious with the way her nipples are pressing against the shirt that she’s not wearing a bra.
She looks fucking gorgeous, and I can’t help when I cross the kitchen and sweep her into my arms, slanting my mouth over hers.
I kiss her hard. I kiss her deep.
I kiss her for all the times I’m not going to be able to kiss her anymore.
When I finally pull away, we’re both gasping for air.
She peers up at me, her eyes glassy with lust. “Wow. What was that for?”
“Missed you.”
“I missed you too. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything is great.”
“Are you sure?” She studies me closely. Too fucking closely.
“Actually, no. Everything isn’t fine.”
I turn her away from me, pressing her against the counter, grinding my hard cock against her ass. I gather her long hair into my fists, tugging on it not so lightly.
A small moan escapes her, her head lolling back, enjoying the bite of pain she’s no doubt feeling.
“W-What’s wrong?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell her the truth.
I should tell her the truth.
I want to tell her the truth.
I want to tell her I love her. Tell her I can’t imagine a day of my life without her in it and I want this to be real more than anything I’ve ever wanted before.
But I don’t say any of that.
Instead, I say, “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
Then, I lift her shirt and push her shorts down her legs. I strip her underwear from her body and bend her over the counter. I fist her hair and grab her hips and I fuck her hard.
Raw.
Rough.
I slide into her pussy over and over again as the sounds of her moans and our skin slapping together fill the quiet kitchen.
And I pretend she’s mine just one last time.
