Page 59 of The Player's Obsession

“What are we going to do?” Penelope asks.

“Nothing. It’s great,” I reply as I escort her to the elevator and hit the button. I’m in a chipper mood. This is the most excitement I’ve had outside of football this year.

“Really? Are we doing this?” In heels, Penelope is almost as tall as I am. We could easily become a power couple with her good looks and head for numbers, toss in my athletic abilities, and bingo.

“What can happen? Hell, we might get a few free perks out of it.” I’m flippant because if there is fallout, I’ll figure a way out of it. Hell, Mom and Dad know about her, what does it matter if people think we’re married? I never said we were married. This must be from all the rumors and speculations circulating after couples go viral on social media.

“Wow, look at you two!” I know that voice and spin around. It’s Serena Wallace, Melanie’s best friend and bridesmaid.

She hugs me and kisses my cheek.

“And who is this gorgeous woman?”

“Penelope. Penelope, this is Serena, the best friend of the bride.”

“Oh, hi, so nice to meet you,” Penelope offers her hand, and Serena shakes it gently.

“I can say the same for you. I finally get to meet the woman who is outshining our bride. News of you two is all over the place.” She waves her hand and staggers backward. I realize she’s been drinking and probably should have a sober buddy with her.

“We never meant for it to blow up like this, did we, honey?” Penelope says to play along. She’s struggling to keep a poker face and focuses on me instead of Serena.

“We were just as surprised. I had no idea anyone cared about who I’m with,” I respond, careful not to take away from the “we’re married” vibe before we finish milking it. I’ve never been married and had no idea honeymoon couples receive all this attention.

Who knew?

And I’ve totally killed my ex-fiancée’s buzz.

CHAPTER26

Penelope

After Oliver helped Serena back to her room, he opened the door to our room and stepped aside so I could go in first.

Only this is not a room.

It’s a suite or the hotel’s version of an apartment. Hell, it’s bigger than any apartment I’ve lived in.

The huge bed is decorated with roses. An ice bucket of champagne is sitting next to the bed. I walk over to inspect it.Surely, it’s empty.

“Um, Oliver, it’s cold champagne,” I announce.

“Well, this is not exactly the Holiday Inn.” He walks over to join me as I stare at the bottle of bubbly like it’s a mirage. Two flutes are on the nightstand.

Oliver lifts the glasses and raises his eyebrows. “Should we pre-game?”

“Sure.” I may never see a bridal suite again. What the hell? Why not live it up this weekend? I have three more weeks before I’m home, alone and wallowing in self-pity because Oliver is still in love with his ex— and not me. Later there will be plenty of time for that pity-party.

Oliver skillfully pops the cork, pours the bubbles, and hands me a glass. It says Mrs. on it. I check, and sure enough, his says Mr.

“Wow. They thought of everything,” I murmur.

He looks at the label on the champagne. “Damn,” he softly whistles, “Cristal is expensive stuff. I can’t wait to see the markup.”

Then it dawns on me, this isn’t free. They won’t charge him extra for the upgrade, but even one night in this hotel is probably more than I pay each month in rent. I’m only guessing because I had braces on my teeth the last time I stayed at a hotel. The family rented a cabin in the Poconos for spring break. It was anything but fun. Every day I looked forward to the kid-camp activities to escape my parents' constant bickering. Those two serve as a cautionary tale for what I don’t want in my marriage.

“What shall we toast to?” I ask.

“To a fun-filled weekend.”

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