Page 12 of Making the Save

“I don’t take advantage like that. It’s not cool.”

Because he was a good guy. It’s what I thought about him when he roughed up the former quarterback. It’s what I thought about him at the pool and at the club.

It’s what I thought when I was standing next to him in front of Elvis, who was officiating our…

“Wow, we really did that?”

He knew what I meant. I could tell by his expression. Worried and resigned. He remembered it the second he woke up and he was just waiting for me to catch up this whole time.

“Yes, we really did,” he said, that grin of his splitting his dark beard. “Congratulations, wife.”

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Drunken bacchanalia or publicity stunt?

You decide, Reader. Either way, Miss Sydney has some ‘splaining to do.

-Celebrity Truth

Wyatt

Iwas married.

I was married to Sydney Fucking Malloy. Pop Goddess. Internet breaker. One of People’s Sexiest People Alive. My brother’s all-time favorite celebrity crush.

I mean… this wassurreal.

I wasn’t the kind of guy who thought about what the day after my wedding would look like. But if pressed, I’d probably say I imagined filling my brand-new wife’s belly with some babies. Maybe drinking a pina colada on a beach. Getting one of them couple massages andthenmaking some babies.

I did not imagine a stern talking to by a woman who dressed and sounded like the fucking Queen of England.

However, having been yelled at by coaches my whole life, it was easy to tune her out.

What was bothering me was the way Sydney, sitting beside me all showered and smelling like flowers and toothpaste, kept shrinking into herself with each clipped word. Smaller and smaller until she practically disappeared inside that robe she was wearing. She tucked her hands in the sleeves. Her knees to her chest.

All I could see was her sexy short black hair, her pink toes and her bloodshot green eyes.

Apparently one of the best nights of my life was a catastrophe and this lady with the Gatorade needed to tell us all about it.

She’d also managed to get me a new set of clothes that somehow – miraculously – fit me perfectly. Jeans, a black polo. Even underwear.

She really was a witch.

“This is just one of the videos that went viral.” Beatrice placed her phone on the glass table between Sydney and me and pressed play.

It was like any other scene from a bad Vegas movie, only I was starring in it. We were coming out of the Chapel of Love and surrounded by people with their phones out, filming us.

Beside me, Sydney groaned like she was in pain watching it.

I had Sydney hauled over my shoulder in a fireman lift. She was wearing the short sexy dress she’d worn clubbing. I had my hand over her ass, so she wasn’t flashing the universe. She had on one shoe, a veil and a bouquet of white roses I remembered buying as part of the Chapel’s Deluxe Package.

In the video I was singingGoing to The Chapelat the top of my lungs.

“You sound great, baby!”Video Sydney had cried.

I didn’t.

Beside me, Sydney’s tense face broke into a fleeting smile.

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