Page 38 of Perfectly Wedded

“Vale! You’re a man on a mission.” He gives me a brilliantly white smile that’s a stark contrast to his tanned skin. He spends his summers at his beach house in Puerto Rico, which explains why he looks like a retired millionaire living on a yacht.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

I motion toward the HR office. “Meeting with Libby. Need to get our insurance in order before we leave on our honeymoon.”

He smirks. “Is that wife of yours cracking the whip now?”

“I’m trying to be more responsible now that I’m married,” I say, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of his stare. I quickly shove my hands in my pockets, hoping he won’t press further. “You know... trying to do the right thing.” If anyone would understand that, it’s him, right?

He offers a nod of approval before glancing over his shoulder. “Stop by my office after your meeting. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Something in his tone shifts, tipping me off that this isn’t just a casual man-to-man chat over drinks. This is serious.

I head to Libby’s office and peek my head around the door. “You available for a few minutes?”

“Well, if it isn’t the happy newlywed!” She stops her work and motions to an empty chair. “Come on in, Vale.” It might only be eight in the morning, but already she’s chewing her gum, buzzing with energy.

“I’m sorry if the news was a shock,” I say, sitting across from her. I rub my hands across my knees. This is so much harder than I imagined it would be.

She waves off my concern. “If it’s love, why wait? Your big announcement was like watching a fairy tale come true. I got shivers just reading about it!” She props her chin on her hand and looks at me dreamily. “Was it everything you ever hoped for?”

“Marrying Sloan was definitely a dream come true,” I say, even though the circumstances around it were less than ideal.

Libby waits, clearly expecting more details, and I realize that if I give her even a sliver, I’ll be the hot topic around the water cooler for the rest of the week. I clear my throat, forcing a smile. “But hey, I’m not here to talk about my wedding. Actually, I need to add Sloan to my insurance plan.”

“Of course!” She hits a few buttons on her computer, and the printer roars to life. Then she hands me some forms. “Sign these, and you’ll be good to go.”

I start signing while Libby taps away at her keyboard, her jaw still working. “I know people are talking about why you got married, but I’m a hopeless romantic. I don’t doubt for a second that it’s love.”

I pause, pen in hand. “What do you mean,talking?”

“Oh, I’ve heard a few people mention it in passing. You know how people are. They can’t believe you’d fall in love that fast.”

I wonder who she’s talking about and what they’re saying. “You mean, people here?”

“Well, yes. And a few people around town.”

I tap my pen on the desk. “I’ve had feelings for Sloan since the beginning. Long before Vegas.” Admitting it out loud makes me feel better about signing these insurance forms. Our marriage is fully legal, so I’m not committing fraud. Somehow, it just feels like I’m doing something wrong when she phrases it that way.

“I guessed you’ve been harboring a secret flame for her,” she says, her voice low.

“Did one of my teammates talk to you?” I ask.

“I shouldn’t give names,” she says, looking torn between confessing to me and keeping her secret.

“If it’s a teammate who has questions, they can come to me.” Then I lean back in my chair. “Like any of them could talk. They pick up women faster than our Vegas wedding ceremony.”

She giggles. “Don’t worry. I believe you. So does Lauren in PR. Just between you and me, I’m betting you and Sloan stay married for the long haul.”

As if there was some doubt?

“Thanks for your vote of confidence,” I say, signing the last form, trying to hide the sting of her words. I didn’t realize people were already speculating about the longevity of our relationship. If they knew the truth, they might think I’m an idiot for risking my reputation for Sloan’s insurance—or worse, think Sloan used me, even though I know she’d rather cut off her right foot than ask me for a favor. Without question, I wanted to marry her. Butpeople will believe what they want. This conversation is proof of that.

I slide the paperwork across her desk.

She looks it over and smiles. “Good luck with everything! Don’t worry, eventually people will stop talking.”

“You think?”

“They just need time to see that it’s real,” she says with a shrug. “If it is, you have nothing to worry about.”

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