Page 162 of Beautiful Collide

Her fingers knot together on her lap. “Hudson, this isn’t funny.”

“You’re right. It’s not funny. It’s just I don’t know what to say. My default setting is humor.” I take her hands, which are still locked, and place a kiss on her knuckles. “We’ll figure it out. We just need a second to think about it, but I promise it will be okay.”

“Why are you not freaking out?”

“I am freaking out,” I admit. “I got married in Vegas. I’m the biggest joke in the NHL. If this gets leaked, I’m ruined, but freaking out isn’t going to help us, is it?”

She bites her lip, her eyes darting away again. “I just . . . I don’t want this to ruin everything we’ve built. This thing we have? It’s more than a friendship, but not quite a relationship. I’m just not ready to hate you again.”

“Then don’t,” I say firmly, reaching out to take her hands. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away, so I keep going. “Look at me.”

She hesitates, then finally lifts her gaze to mine.

“This doesn’t ruin anything,” I tell her. “You and me? Whatever we are? We’re going to be okay. We won’t go back to being enemies.”

Her eyes widen slightly, and I can see the tension in her shoulders loosen just a fraction. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I say, squeezing her hands for emphasis. “And we will get this sorted because let’s be real here—being married to someone everyone thinks you hate is ridiculous.Even for me.And my standards for ridiculous are pretty high.”

She laughs softly, and it’s the most perfect sound in the world.

“So,” I continue, keeping my tone light, “I think we should find a lawyer. Someone we trust. We’ll get this annulled, and then we can figure out the rest. Together. Deal?”

Molly stares at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head, weighing every word I’ve said.

Finally, she nods. “Deal.”

Her shoulders relax, and I can tell I’ve just brought her the relief she needs. I lean back and grin up at her. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Speak for yourself. I’m still recovering from the trauma of hearing you say, ‘Morning, wife.’”

I laugh, unable to help myself. “Come on, you’ve got to admit that was funny.”

“I almost had a heart attack,” Molly says, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips again. “You almost killed me.”

“Murder isn’t my style.” I shrug. “I’d charm you into submission first.”

She rolls her eyes. “And I’d let you think you succeeded right before I hit you with a pillow.”

“See? Everything is going to be okay.”

“You’re not bad, Wilde.”

“Only the best for my wife,” I say, winking.

Molly groans, shoving my shoulder. “Stop calling me that.”

I let myself fall back on the couch dramatically. “Fine. Whatever you want. I won’t say—Okay. I might. I’m starting to get used to it.” It’s true. I am. More than I should.

She leans over me, her face hovering above mine.

I forget how to breathe.

“Hudson,” she says, her voice softer now. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For . . . not making this harder than it has to be,” she says. “For making me laugh, even when I don’t want to. And for . . .” Her brow furrows slightly. “For not letting this ruin everything.”

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