Page 137 of Against The Rules

“What does that say, Frank? Does he have something written on his stomach in… is that eyeblack?”

“I love my wife, Ted, that’s what it says! I didn’t know Tyler Matthews was married.”

Presley screeches, jumping up and down and spilling a tub of ginger. “This is the cutest fucking thing!”

“Language,” my mom says, staring between me and the TV. “Savannah, chew with your mouth closed.”

“That’s him,” I say.

“She’s saying that’s her husband,” Presley tells my mom.

“Well, I see the appeal,” my mom says, and I try not to choke on the spider roll as I laugh.

“Not sure if that’s unsportsmanlike conduct or not, Frank, but I bet wherever his wife is, she’s smiling.”

Ted the announcer is right. I am smiling. I might not be thrilled with Tyler going behind my back… but considering how relieved I feel about being fired from the team, I’m not mad.

How could I stay mad at such a goofball?

“I married him,” I say to Mom.

She laughs. “I see that. In fact, I think about one hundred million people see that.”

A second later, there’s a knock on the door.

I groan and laugh at the same time, which is a weird sound, because the person I wish was behind it is currently shaking his ass. And written on his back? My name, with a big heart around it.

Presley opens the door.

“Sushi delivery for Savannah Durand, compliments of Mr. Matthews, and he gave me a big tip to tell you he’s sorry and he loves you.”

“Oh my god,” Presley says. “We’re going to be eating sushi for the next year and a half.”

“He knows it’s my favorite.” It’s so damn cute that he remembered.

I know I have a lot of work to do on myself, but for some reason, in this moment, I think I’m going to be all right.

CHAPTER 61

TYLER

My parents are waiting in the family area of the Beaver locker room, my mom wearing a shell-shocked expression as I wrap her up in a big, shirtless hug.

“Tyler?” my dad says, scratching his chin. “What’s this about?”

“Savannah, remember her? She’s my wife. Has been for a few months.”

“They’re in love,” Jacob says, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “They’re sickening, actually.”

“Thanks, I think.” I frown because my mom’s crying. “Mom, don’t be sad. I know you wanted a big wedding and all that, and maybe we can still have a party but—”

“Are you kidding me?” The sound her palm makes when she slaps my chest practically echoes, and I stare at her, alarmed. “I’m so thrilled. I loved her. I told Ken, Ken, how many times did I tell you that if he messed up with her I would be mad?”

“She said it a lot,” my dad confirms.

“You’re not mad?”

“Of all the things to be mad about, you marrying that girl couldn’t possibly be one of them. Please tell me she’s coming over for Thanksgiving dinner.”

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