Page 65 of Perfectly Wedded

“I heard from someone you hadn’t been feeling well again.” He attempts a look of fake concern, but it looks more like he sucked on a lemon. The man is about as compassionate as a rock.

I cross my arms.Who told him?We never had many mutual friends. When he left me, I had no one except my sister and the skaters at the university. He kept me emotionally caged so that I depended on him for everything—social interactions, professional connections, even friendships. Losing him meant losing my entire network. And I’ll never let a man do that to me again, controlling my community and my friends so I’m invisible. Forcing me to belessso he could be more.

Vale would never dream of pushing me down so he could lift himself up. Even though we share friend groups—including the entire hockey team and Crushers’ staff—he’d never ask me to give those friendships up if things don’t work out.

“Is it true?” he asks again. “You’re relapsing?”

“I’m feeling much better, Anthony. Thank you for yourconcern.” We both know he’s not concerned about my health. Otherwise, why would he have left me at my worst? People who love you don’t abandon you when life gets hard. They stay when nobody else does.

Or in my case, Vale stayed. He brought me cold compresses when my head hurt. He rubbed my forehead when I couldn’t sleep. He even attempted to make soup for me even though he didn’t know how and the noodles were mush. He asked me,How can I help you? What can I do?even if all I needed was someone to listen to me.

It’s what made me fall so hard for him. And it’s the same reason I turned him down the first time he asked me out. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship I had with him.

Which is ironic in hindsight, because my marriage just might.

Anthony turns to Vale. “You look surprisingly different in a suit. Less like a barbaric hockey player.”

“I like barbaric hockey players in suits,” I say. “Andout of them.”

Anthony gapes. I grin at Vale. Knowing we’ve never even had a real kiss, this is just a fantasy. But Anthony doesn’t know that.

My ex turns to me, face pinched. “I’m surprised you’re still in your hockey era. Never thought you’d date someone like him.”

Someone who couldn’t be less like Anthony.

Vale stiffens beside me, his hand rubbing over the curve of my waist. He could snap Anthony in half if he wanted to. But he pretends not to be bothered by this slight.

But I’m bothered. Too much.

“You thought this was temporary?” I loop my arms around Vale, almost climbing the man like a tree. Then I tip my face to my husband. “You have no idea how hot this man is. I could never grow tired of him.”

Anthony flinches, while Vale’s pupils flare. He cups one side of my face, kisses my forehead, his lips lingering there while heat races down my body.

It’s enough to make Anthony shift, glance away.

The victory prize of the night.

Vale smiles at me, nuzzles his nose against my cheek. “I hit the lottery when I met Sloan.” His fingers knit into mine as the saxophone wails a slow tune. His eyes never leave mine. “Excuse us, but I’ve been waiting all night to dance withmy wife.”

Anthony’s eyes follow us to the dance floor, glowing from the hanging twinkle lights above us. The sun has sunk below the horizon, casting everything in an orangish, otherworldly glow.

Vale pulls me so close to him, I can feel the warmth of his body through my dress. Through the pressure points where our bodies meet.

For a moment, we don’t say anything. He twines his fingers with mine, as his other hand presses against my lower back, like he’s letting Anthony know I’m his. We gently sway together to the jazzy cry of the sax, and my body finally exhales.

I’m where I’m meant to be, and I don’t want this to ever end. Vale and me together, while the whole world looks on.

“Sorry about that,” I finally say. “He canbe such a jerk.”

“Don’t apologize for Anthony being the way he is. He could help himself, but he walked right into that one on his own. When you made that comment about barbaric hockey players, the look on his face was priceless.”

“He deserved it after the way he treated you.”

“He hasn’t liked me since we met in Vegas,” Vale says. “I don’t take it personally. I’m the one who got the prize.” His hand presses me closer, reminding me I’m the prize, our bodies creating pockets of energy and heat.

“Oh, he’d be glad to tell you how relieved he is to be rid of me. He never wanted someone who’s broken.”

“You arenotbroken,” Vale says, offended I would say it.

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