Page 2 of Hat Trick Holidate

My mom’s lips quiver as she tries to hold back tears. “Oh, sweetheart.” My dad sweeps me into his arms. My safety net. I’m sure this isn’t how they envisioned their daughter’s wedding, and the look of disappointment washes over their faces.

“Baby girl, one day you’ll be loved by a man who will cherish you.” My dad kisses my forehead. “Now, let’s get you out of here.”

Disguising me in a tuxedo and putting my hair under a baseball cap, Roman whisks me out of the church basement. The idea of facing anyone right now is overwhelming.

Once we’re in his car, I notice his cheek is bruised and his knuckles covered in blood. He’s breathing hard. “Dad and Mom took care of everything. That piece of shit. How did I not know?”

I lean my head against the window. “How did I not know?” I whisper.

“Em, I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know. I thought he had changed.”

“Can I stay with you and Penelope tonight?”

He gives me a soft squeeze of my hand. “Of course. I knew he was a player before, but he said you had changed him. Shit, Em, I’m so sorry. This is why best friends and teammates are off limits. Pieces of fucking shit. This is on me.”

“I just wish Mom and Dad weren’t out all this money.”

“They have plenty. Don’t worry about it. You’re what matters.”

Penelope stays at the church with our parents to let any guests who don’t get the message that the wedding is off. Lost in my thoughts, my brother is suddenly opening my door, and we’re standing in his kitchen. “Thank you for loving me,” I say, with emotion hogging my soul. He fills his Keurig, and a few minutes later, I have a mug filled with green tea in my hand. “What would I do without you?”

We’re a year apart—Irish twins. Our parents are still madly in love. Roman has been dating Penelope since his freshman year of college, and they’re getting married at the end of the hockey season.

I thought I had found the love of my life. Now I’m not sure if Grant ever loved me. He must have been taking the easy path where he got to hang out with his best friend all the time, even double dating. He must be hurting too. When he called off the wedding and told me he didn’t love me, he knew he would lose Roman in the process, yet it was still worth it to him to letusgo rather than be in a loveless marriage. When Roman’s anger subsides, he’ll be grieving the loss of his best friend.

“Do you need anything?” Roman asks as he draws me into a hug.

I can’t hold back the sobs. “I don’t deserve this.”

“You don’t.” He rubs circles on my back. “The guest room is yours for as long as you need it.”

“Thanks.”

Walking into the light-tan, painted room with orange curtains and a comforter the same color would normally be a breath of fresh air. An escape. But now, I sit on the bed notknowing what to do or how to feel. Should I be thankful Grant told me now instead of in ten years when we had kids, and it ripped our family apart? Or should I be angry that he delivered the gut punch on our wedding day.

What am I going to do? Grant and I planned on having kids right away, so I don’t have a career plan. My family has plenty of money, and Roman plays hockey professionally, so I won’t be on the streets, but none of it will be mine.

As I rummage through my bag that I took to the church, I remove the t-shirt, Grant’s shirt. Rose Sports Agency. “Roman?”

He must be standing outside the door, just waiting for me to need him.

“Yeah?”

“Can I wear one of your shirts to bed? And can we burn this one?” I ask, handing him the black t-shirt.

Roman wads up the shirt, shaking his head. “Only if you set it on fire with me.”

“Deal.”

When Penelope gets back from the church, she finds us outside by the fire pit, roasting marshmallows. There’s a wistful breeze blowing, and I’m snuggled into my brother’s arm, pulling the charred sticky marshmallow from the iron rod. “Come roast marshmallows with us,” I say, laughing. Because what’s not to laugh about?

“It doesn’t smell like marshmallows.”

Roman nudges my shoulder, “He’s burnt and buried in the ashes.” Penelope’s eyes open wide. “Don’t worry, babe. It was just the asshole’s shirt.”

“What do I do now?” I ask.

Roman answers instantly like he’s been waiting on meto ask. “Since Penelope has to travel for work, you’re going to Atlanta with me. We play the Jets.”

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