Page 37 of Perfectly Wedded

Stop. Right. There.I can’t let my mind wander—for so many reasons.

Jaz smiles at us in approval. “Before you two hurry off, I wanted to let you know one more thing. How do you feel about renewing your vows?”

“So soon?” Sloan asks, surprised.

“For your friends and family who missed your actual ceremony. Apparently it’s your mother-in-law’s wish to havesomething official—something more than just a party,” Jaz says with a smile full of secrets.

When I visited Mom last, she told me how much she couldn’t wait for me to get married. Ever since my siblings tied the knot, she’s worried I’ll be the one left alone. My mom sacrificed her entire life for us as a single mom, but she would never wish the same for me.

“But you already threw a party for us,” Sloan says.

“That was a wedding shower. What if you could have the wedding you’ve always dreamed of?”

Sloan shakes her head. “I don’t have the money for a wedding like that.”

“I don’t mean you would pay for it,” Jaz says, taking the eggs from the fridge. “I know someone who would be more than happy to give you the wedding of your dreams. Someone who’s willing to pay for the entire thing... if they get to photograph it.”

“Who?” she asks.

“The Star Report,” she says. “They contacted me at the office and made an offer. They want to do a feature wedding shoot and in return will cover everything. They contacted me because Vale is refusing to talk to the press right now, and they knew I was the only one who would relay the message.”

“No,” Sloan says. “It’s really not necessary.”

Jaz puts down the eggs and faces her sister. “This is every bride’s dream, you do realize that?”

“I’m not every bride,” Sloan insists.

Jaz turns to me. “Ever since we were kids, my sister has planned her dream wedding. She wanted the white dress, the big outdoor wedding, a string quartet playing ‘Canon in D.’ She might not plan a lot of things, but this was theonething she always dreamed of.” Jaz’s eyes drill into me. Nothing like pushy in-laws to pressure you into a very public wedding that will be all over the internet. When Jaz asked me the other day if I’d consider asimpleparty, I shrugged and said yes. Apparently, the “simple”part morphed into a sponsored wedding feature paid for byThe Star Report.

Jaz takes her sister’s arm. “Hey, I’m doing this for you. I don’t want you to ever feel like you got shorted on your wedding dreams.”

“I’m perfectly happy with our Vegas ceremony,” Sloan says.

Jaz gives her a look. “You’re a terrible liar, Sloan. You’ve mentioned more than once how Eunice was deaf and Clarence almost fell asleep.”

Sloan looks to me for help and I shrug. “She isn’t wrong.”

“Then it’s a done deal,” Jaz says with a satisfied smile. “Vale, your mom will be so happy. When I hinted thatThe Star Reportwanted to make a deal for a wedding feature, she was nearly frantic with excitement. She wants a repeat of everything. The vows. The kiss. The whole wedding enchilada.”

My gut feels tied into knots. This complicates everything.

It was one thing to get married in front of strangers in a shady chapel we weren’t even sure was legit. It’s another thing to do it in front of our friends and family—and the entire world, who will see the pictures.

But at this point, I don’t have a choice. If I refuse, I’ll let down my family, and it will give the press even more reason to hound us for Vegas details. LettingThe Star Reportdocument our wedding will satisfy everyone, even if it makes me the most miserable man ever. Because all I really want is Sloan. I want to wake up to her sweet smile, to trail kisses across her collarbone at night. To hold her hand as we fall asleep, her fingers curling into mine, not letting go.

But the reality is, I can never have her, no matter how good we are at pretending.

FOURTEEN

Vale

I’m able to forget about my honeymoon—or at least push it into the back of my mind—as soon as I enter the staff offices for the Carolina Crushers. Located on the second floor in the Ice House Arena, the office wing smells like freshly printed paper and burned coffee. This morning, there’s an inexplicable buzz in the air as the staff ramps up for a new season. It feels like opening a fresh notebook on the first day of school. Everyone is beaming, fueled by copious amounts of caffeine and hope that this is the year we’ll make it to the playoffs.

Given my newly married status, I’ve got two things to do before I can fully concentrate on the season ahead: Get my wife the medicine she needs and get through our honeymoon without ruining our friendship.

Heading toward the HR office, I round the corner and nearly slam into Raphael Marco.

“Excuse me, sir,” I say, pivoting so I don’t crash into him.

---