Page 8 of Offside Bride

“Sawyer, you’ve been in three fights—that I know of—this year. You could have gotten yourself arrested at this last one. If you want the big clothing brands, you need to clean up your act. And don’t even get me started about your residency status. Do you want to get kicked out of Canada?”

I actually love Canada. Mostly because it’s not Boston, where my dad does business, and it’s not Tennessee, where I lived the lie of my childhood. And it’s not Ireland—not like I’ve ever been there. But if I can associate something to my dad, I don’t want anything to do with it, so Ireland’s out.

I’ve grown to truly love the red maple leaf flag as the whole crowd in the Blizzard Dome proudly sings “O Canada.” I’ve gotten used to everything being in EnglishandFrench, right down to the shampoo labels. I even tolerate Canadian beer. I love it here. It’s home to me. I hope I never leave.

“You really think they’d kick me out?” I ask sincerely. “For getting in a few fights?”

Bruce sighs. “Probably not. But I wouldn’t push it if I were you.”

I run a hand over my face, wiping the last traces of sweat dripping from my scalp. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble. I promise.”

“Good.”

“Can I go shower now? Coach will kill me if I’m late to video training.”

Hannah clears her throat to remind us she’s still here and exchanges a look with Bruce. I guess Icouldmake some kind of statement on the team socials. I’ll complain the whole time. But I’ll do it if I really have to.

Bruce nods at Hannah and says, “Do you want to tell him or should I?”

“Tell me what?”

“There’s one more thing,” Bruce says tentatively.

“Seriously?”

Hannah scrunches her nose and winces. “It’s uh…actually the whole reason we wanted to talk to you.”

I look back and forth between them. “So the bar fight, the endorsement deals, my immigration status…That was all preamble?”

“It all ties together,” she says. “It’s actually a funny story when you think about it, ha ha.” She fake-laughs nervously.

“Why do I get the feeling I’m going to hate this?” I grumble.

Bruce smooths the clean-shaven skin over his jaw and chin with his fingers and thumb and offers me a somber grimace. “Because you probably will,” he says. “But I need you to remain calm while we tell you.”

“The greatest marriages are built on teamwork. A mutual respect, a healthy dose of admiration, and a never-ending portion of love and grace.”

— FAWN WEAVER

4

MAGGIE

The Sud-O-Rama car wash isn’t the only job I’ve gotten fired from, but this is the first time I’ve been called “maliciously compliant.”

Whatever. I hated that job anyway. At least the day couldn’t get any worse. Right?

Unfortunately, my savings is wearing thin, and I do need to find my own place soon. Very soon.

Although Emily would never say it, the last thing a newlywed couple needs is a third wheel hanging around their house. Yesterday, both her and Owen told me I can stay as long as I need. But after walking in on them when I got up in the middle of the night for a snack, well, let’s just say I ain’t never gonna use that kitchen island again in my life.

I suppose I could try to sell more jewelry on Esty, especially since my dream of becoming a novelist isn’t working out for me.

Sigh.

I honestly thought I’d be somebody by now. Like, not a household name or anything—I don’t expect to be the next Nora Roberts. But I’d very much like to make a simple living as a writer. Right now, I can’t even sell enough books to support my Starbucks habit.

I do some quick girl math in my head. Since fifty percent of my jewelry revenue goes to a foster children’s non-profit I trust, I’d have to sell… two thousand percent more than I am now. That’s a heckuvalot of beaded toilet paper earrings and gothic anatomical necklaces.

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