Page 26 of Perfectly Wedded

Vale

“It’s all an easy sell,” I tell Sloan, before entering the media room for our press conference at the ice arena. “As long as we don’t say too much, they’ll buy our story.”

She bites her lip as her brows knit together. “That’s the problem. I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing.” She’s changed into a pair of dress slacks with a cropped blazer and tank, trying to balance the look of being a professional hockey player’s wife with her new status as influencer.

“Are you sure I have to be here?” she asks.

“It looks better if you are. More believable,” I remind her. “Just leave the answers to me.”

As we make our way through the administrative offices, I greet everyone with a casual nod while trying to avoid their questioning looks. I grab Sloan’s hand and steamroll past everyone so we don’t get sidetracked, even though I can feel the tension around us. Everyone is wondering the same thing.How did this happen?

We’ll deal with the Crushers’ staff later. Right now we have to face down the lions.

When we finally reach the media room, Lauren Williamson, our new PR person, is already waiting for us. She’s dressed to kill in a red leather jacket with matching heels, her dark hair pulledback into a slick topknot. Lauren has the confidence of a cougar even though her bubbly personality makes her everyone’s favorite PR person. Her ability to woo people is astounding, and she can spin any news with rainbows and glitter, no matter how bad it is. And by rainbows and glitter, I mean she’s an epic wordsmith and master spin doctor. But underneath that razzle-dazzle is a relentlessly tough chic who refuses to back down when the media pressures us.

She gives me an easy smile, even though I know what we’re about to face will be anything but easy. “You ready for this? If not, I have a sheet to brief you on talking points.” She holds out a paper color-coded with bullet points.

“So what you’re saying is you’re slacking off again,” I remark with a smile.

She shrugs. “You know me. I can’t do things halfway. Not in a man’s world.” She doesn’t mean it as a criticism. We all know the hockey industry is rife with men. It’s hard for women like Lauren and Jaz to be taken seriously.

I look over her talking points. Her answers are vague, yet professional, just like I’ve planned.Yes, we eloped. No, we weren’t drunk. Of course we’re in love. No, it isn’t for professional gain.There isn’t anything on here I haven’t prepared for, and this gives me a boost of confidence that I can handle the press without Sloan saying a word. “Looks good. Thanks, Lauren.”

Sloan glances from the paper to Lauren. “Do you really think they’ll ask if our marriage is real?”

Lauren nods. “Expect it. They’re already convinced there’s dirt on you both unless you prove them otherwise. That’s the press’s job—to smell if something’s off and dig it up.”

“Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?” Sloan says.

“It’s the opposite with the media. That’s where I come in,” she says with a reassuring smile.

I squeeze Sloan’s hand gently to remind her I’ve got this. “You don’t need to worry about it. I’m used to handling the press.”

Sloan fidgets as we wait outside in the hall, listening to the journalists gather in the room.

Team owner Rafael Marco appears in the hall and stops in front of us. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. MacPherson.” He shakes our hands before turning to me. “Can I talk to you before you face the firing squad?” He offers us his trademark mystery grin, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or serious.

“I’m all ears,” I reply.

He levels his gaze at me. “I hope that whatever you say today will represent the team well. We’re rebuilding our reputation after the fallout with past leadership. So I hope this is the only press conference we’ll need about this particular issue. We don’t want any more trouble.”

“Of course. And we won’t give you any,” I say. As long as our marital arrangement stays secret.

“Good,” he says with a nod. “I just wanted to be clear.”

His words feel like a vague attempt at a warning. Almost like he doesn’t fully believe we’re in love either.

When we enter the media room, Sloan and I take seats at the front behind a table. Behind us, a curtain with the team logo for the Carolina Crushers provides the perfect framing for the camera. The room is packed with reporters and photographers who quiet as soon as we sit down.

I look over at Sloan, who is now bouncing her knee nervously under the table. Since the Crushers tablecloth covers our legs, I place my hand on her knee without anyone seeing it. Immediately, her knee stops moving and she gives me a quick glance.

I keep my hand there through the first five questions, squeezing her knee every time it starts bouncing again. The questions are all ones I’m prepared for:Are you really married? Why did you get married in Vegas? Was this a decision you made while under the influence? Why didn’t you wait?

Then a reporter stands who I don’t recognize. He turns to Sloan and totally ignores eye contact with me. “Mrs. MacPherson, I’ve heard you haven’t been well since your accident and thatyou’ve experienced a relapse with your brain injury. How did your health play into the decision to marry Vale?”

Sloan’s whole body tenses and her knee starts bouncing again. We hadn’t practiced this question, because so few people knew about Sloan’s injury. It seemed like a part of her past, not her future, and we thought we’d covered our trail.

I glance at her, and my heart sinks. Her face is pale, her wide eyes full of fear. She looks absolutely terrified. Both knees are bouncing, so I hook my leg over hers, just to stop her from fidgeting.

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