Page 36 of Perfectly Wedded

“Dealing with what?”

“Getting used to being married. Sloan’s had her share of setbacks. It’s not easy to care for someone with health problems.”

I slowly chew my apple, making sure my face is stone. My twin brother can read me like a book, but I need for him to believe I’m happy. That Sloan and I are in love.

“If I can deal with it as her friend, I can definitely deal with it as her husband.” As much as I hate what happened to Sloan, her injury opened the door for us meeting. If she hadn’t stopped working, Jaz wouldn’t have rented out rooms to a bunch of rowdy hockey players.

“I’m just making sure you aren’t second-guessing your decision,” he says.

“Why would I second-guess anything with Sloan?” I say, slightly defensive.

“Because a lot of people who get married in Vegas do,” he says, looking uneasy.

I frown. “Wait. Did Jaz tell you to ask me this?”

Brax turns back to the stove. “Why would you think that?”

“Because as my brother, you never question my decisions.” I wait a beat. “She set you up, didn’t she?”

Brax finally drags his eyes to me and sighs. “Only because she cares about her sister. Sloan’s made rash decisions in the past. Shedoesn’t always think things through. Especially when she’s under pressure.”

“We didn’t take this decision lightly, Brax,” I say, leveling my gaze. “Especially Sloan. And if you want to tell Jaz the truth, then tell her I’m fully committed to Sloan’s happiness.”

If only they knew I was the one who talked Sloan into this decision. She wasn’t drunk, reckless, or swept up by some impulsive moment. If anyone had doubts, it was Sloan—and she had every reason to hesitate.

Brax studies me for a second. “I believe you, Vale. It’s just that everything happened so fast. Jaz was worried—and rightfully so—that you married her out of pity or something. And that’s exactly what she doesn’t need right now. She needs someone to love her.”

“And I do,” I say with more intensity than I mean to. The words reverberate across my body like a struck bell. I haven’t admitted my feelings out loud before, even though I’ve known it for a while. Maybe the cynics say it’s not possible, but some connections are like that—instant and overwhelming.

I rub the back of my neck. “Sloan wouldn’t have married me if I pitied her. She’s not that desperate.”

He nods once, slowly. “You’re right. And I know you don’t rush into big decisions.” He slaps my shoulder, but it doesn’t help me feel better. There’s still a rock sitting on my chest.

He trusts me to tell him everything, and I’ve kept the full truth from him. We married for convenience, yes, but that’s only half of what’s bothering me. The truth is that I want Sloan to feel the same about me. If she did, why didn’t she date me a year ago when I asked her out? All she said was that she couldn’t, and I was left assuming the attraction was one-sided.

“Sloan is the reason I made the decision, Brax. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

Just then, footsteps pad down the hall and Jaz appears, her hair pulled into a messy bun.

“Good morning, love,” Brax says, his face softening. He pulls her into his arms and gives her a long kiss.

I clear my throat. “Get a room, you two.”

“Already have one.” Brax smirks, keeping one arm looped around her back. “I’m just showing you how to greet your wife.” Then he wraps his other hand around her shoulder and gives her another kiss to finish what he started.

Jealousy squeezes my chest tighter. More than anything, I want that with Sloan—more than playing for the NHL, more than winning the Stanley Cup. I want someone I can spend my life with. I want her.

Just then, Sloan appears in her pajamas. She blinks at her sister and Brax. “Excuse me,” she announces. “But some of us just got up, you know.”

Jaz laughs as she pulls away from Brax. “You need to take notes.”

That’s my cue to greet her like a husband. Maybe not quite so affectionately, but rule two definitely applies here.

“Hey, beautiful,” I open my arms for Sloan, but she just freezes, like she’s afraid I’m about to bite her.

“I’m not exactly huggable right now,” she says.

“You’re always huggable,” I say, closing the gap between us. When my hands find her body, I pull her into my chest and immediately feel her body soften in my arms. One hand finds the hem of her tank top, while the other strokes her spine. I nuzzle my face in her neck, smelling the faint scent of last night’s perfume. I want to brush my lips across the soft curve of her neck, to peel back the tiny strap of her tank top and kiss the skin beneath it...

---