Page 87 of Perfectly Wedded

He gives me the information, but it seems like a long shot.

“Thanks for trying,” I mutter, feeling sick over this new development.

Even if I use my savings account to pay for the drug, how long will that last? A few months to a year, at most. Not long enough for Sloan. She needs that medicine. It’s the only thing that’s made her feel like herself again.

I glance at the newly signed contract in my hand. I’ve already given up my chance to move to another team—one with better benefits or more money. I was so focused on being away from Sloan that I never stopped to think about what would happen if her medicine wasn’t covered.

I rub my forehead before sliding off my hoodie. No one else is in the locker room when Brax comes in. He sits next to me. “Why’s Jimmy here?”

I don’t look at him. “I asked for a no-movement clause in my contract.”

“For Sloan.” It’s not a question—he already knows the answer. “You took Jimmy’s advice, right?”

I shake my head. “Jimmy wanted me to think it over, but I didn’t want to wait. I signed before I knew about the insurance.” I finally meet my brother’s eyes. “Sloan’s medicine isn’t covered. I know we’ll figure it out, but it’s terrible timing.” I wad up the hoodie and throw it in my locker. Even though our relationship has changed since Vegas, I’m worried how she’ll react when she finds out I kept this from her.

“At least you won’t get moved around during the season,” Brax says, trying to make me feel better. “That’s what she wanted.”

“I haven’t told her.”

Brax stares at me. “You didn’t talk about it first?”

I drag my hand through my hair. “She would’ve felt guilty. Told me no. Blamed herself for me giving up the NHL, even though this is my decision.”

“She’s your wife. She’ll understand,” Brax says.

But will she?

I bang my fist against the locker.

“You’re a MacPherson. You’ll figure this out. It’s not like she married you for your insurance.”

Except she did. And that’s what I can’t reveal to my brother.

TWENTY-NINE

Sloan

“Hold it right there,” the photographer says, motioning for me to freeze in my wedding gown.

I smile as he takes what feels like a million shots from different angles. “A few more in case you blink,” he explains, clicking the button. “Okay, you can relax.”

I can’t decide what I’m more nervous about—this ridiculously over-the-top photoshoot before the wedding ceremony or my wedding night with Vale. There’s no doubt which one I’m more excited for. Ever since the honeymoon, I’ve been waiting for tonight. Honestly, it feels like a waste of time not to skip this whole shindig and head straight to the honeymoon. But we owe our family and friends this wedding. After all, they missed our first one, and we can’t just bail on them now.

Our family and friends have insisted on celebrating the MacPherson Wedding 2.0. We’re making up for everything Vegas lacked—no white dress, no loved ones to cheer us on, no after-party to celebrate the biggest decision of our lives. Even the vows we exchanged at the Little Pink Chapel of Love felt more like going through the motions than real promises.

Yes, we’re marriedby law, but what is marriage if there’s no commitment, no agreement to love someone through all thewonderful and horrible things life throws at you? Today, we’re making that kind of promise.

In the meantime, we agreed to letThe Star Reportdo separate photoshoots with each of us right before the wedding ceremony. We’ll have final approval of all photos and demanded only two conditions from them: Vale won’t get to see me until I walk down the aisle—something we both wanted for our wedding day—and Jaz gets to be here instead, making sure I don’t end up with lipstick on my teeth or tripping over my dress in front of the camera.

As a last-minute request, a journalist tagging along with the photographer asked if they could interview us beforehand—something I wasn’t thrilled about, but Jaz encouraged us to agree to.

“The more information you control, the better,” she told us. “Otherwise, they’ll be asking your guests questions about you. Do you really want Leo or Rourke to comment on your marriage?”

“No,” we both answered in unison.

Jaz may not be our official PR person, but after marrying Brax, she quickly figured out how to work the press to her advantage, one of her many useful skills.

While I endure my photoshoot, Vale is being interviewed privately. It must be going well, because he sends a quick message.

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