Page 64 of Perfectly Wedded

Anthony holds a drink in one hand, wearing an immaculate tux. Probably something his rich parents bought him for all his galas.

“I thought that was you,” he says, not addressing Vale, a smile playing on his lips. He seems only too happy to intrude on us.

“Why are you in Cancun?” I blurt, wishing this nightmare would just go away. Not him. Not now.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says.

That’s when I remember Vale beside me. I grab his hand for support so I don’t topple over from the shock. He knits his fingers through mine, as if to sayI’m here for you.“We’re on our honeymoon.”

“Oh, right.” His brow pinches. “Vegas wasn’t enough?”

“I can never have enough of her,” Vale says, drawing his shoulders up to his full six-four height. He makes Anthony seem small in comparison. Then he pulls me into his hip, my back pressed to his front, one arm snaking around my waist. “I’ll take every opportunity to be alone withmy wife.” He looks down at me, a faint grin that rumbles through me like a volcanic explosion, his words coursing hot through my veins.

“Is Demetria here?” I say, looking over his shoulder, expecting a woman in a black dress to rise from the ocean like a giant tentacled sea monster.

“No, this is a business trip,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. Funny... so was the gala, and he didn’t have a problem with flaunting her there.

“It seems like wherever we go, you keep showing up,” Vale says with a tight smile.

“Pure coincidence,” Anthony says, motioning toward a group of older men in suits behind him. “I’m wooing some philanthropists who need to be wined and dined before they’ll give money to the U.S. Skating Federation. It’s just part of the job.”

Anthony’s eyes skim over the antique ring on my finger. “Is hockey not paying well these days?”

“What?” I balk. “Why would you ask that?”

“I’d expected a rock on your finger, not diamond chips.”

He means it as an insult to Vale since Demetria’s ring looked like a freaking planet with its own galaxy.

“I picked it out,” I say, my anger flaring. “Because I don’t like big gaudy diamonds.”

Anthony sniffs, unimpressed. “Appropriate for a college skating coach.”

Ouch.

When I took the coaching job at the university, Anthony told me he didn’t think it was good enough. That I was settling. He wanted me to keep training for skating competitions. To be his “little star,” because it made him look good to date a successful athlete. But I was done competing, the stress of it wrecking my mental health, while I battled constant injuries.

When I told him I wasn’t returning to skating, he was disappointed not just because I was “settling for something less,” but because I couldn’t stick it out. He called me unfocused, blamed my diagnosis, even though I was ready for a change and my ADHD had nothing to do with it.

I love teaching college skaters—the thrill of seeing them improve, the relationships built over four years before they launch into the world.

Even if he hadn’t cheated on me while I was recovering, Iwould have ended it between us. He was always looking for something to fill the hole, the parts of him that were never satisfied, like Dad. And I wasn’t good enough for either of them.

Isn’t that why Dad never calls or visits, even now? Because there’s always someone better. A new work acquaintance who invites him to a lake house. Another girlfriend to take wine tours with. A dopamine hit of meeting someone who’s better than the last.

You always date someone like your father.It never really rang true for me, until now, as I realize Anthony and my father are strangely similar, always looking for that person to make them feel more impressive so they’ll feel better about themselves.

Anyone who’s too much work is left behind. And I’ve always been too much for people. I talk too much. I flit from one thing to the next. I have big emotions, and I wear them on my sleeve like a preschooler’s paint shirt.

But somehow Vale never makes me feel like too much. He never gets that exasperated look Anthony always had when I talked too much. And he’s never accused me of quitting or thought me reckless for taking chances. Isn’t that why I married him? Because he asked me to take a risk and we took the plunge together?

Anthony drains his glass, changing the subject. “I plan on taking Demetria to the Amalfi Coast for our honeymoon. ShelovesItaly.”

He’s trying to one-up us, being a total schmuck to Vale on our honeymoon. That’s the thing about people who are always comparing themselves to you. They try to make you feel small so that they can feel better about themselves.

“I love this place,” I say with a smile so wide, I’m nearly glowing. “Vale took me on my first snorkeling excursion, which was fantastic.”

Anthony frowns slightly. He’s never liked swimming all that much. He’s more the yacht club type, who loves big boats, probably to make up for what he’s lacking in other departments.

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