Wild Ever After: A Marriage of Convenience Sports Romance (Wildcat Hockey Book 3)
Wild Ever After: Chapter 11

The ceremony is over in a blink of an eye. Which is good because I felt like I was going to pass out the entire time.

I was like freaking Sleeping Beauty up there, totally out of it at my own wedding because anxiety and nerves had me in a chokehold, and then the officiant must have said it was time to kiss the bride because Declan leaned forward and put his lips on mine and I woke right the hell up.

While our guests enjoy cocktail hour, the wedding party goes outside for pictures.

“You look beautiful, baby.” My mother has tears in her eyes as she hugs me and then Declan. “Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you,” he says. It’s the first time he’s looked uncomfortable at our fake wedding. I don’t blame him. I’m biting back irritation and a million catty things on the tip of my tongue. Our family? What freaking family? This is the first time we’ve seen each other in over a year. Since she started dating Kenny. He seems okay, but there’s no use in getting to know him.

Still, it has been nice to have her here. I love her and I miss her. Or at least the idea of her. We don’t even spend holidays together anymore. I tried the first couple of years after I left, but it’s too hard to watch her with these terrible men, who treat her shitty and are exactly like the twenty others that came before them. She’ll never learn.

I save Declan by telling my mom the photographer is ready for us. The photos are endless. We take about a million with the entire wedding party and then it’s just me and Declan being posed this way and that.

When the photographer finally frees us, my face hurts from smiling, but the nerves from earlier are gone.

Declan hooks a finger under his collar and tugs gently. “Are we serving food at this thing?”

I giggle. “This thing? You mean our wedding reception?”

He smiles sheepishly.

“Yeah. You ordered the chicken, or well, technically, Sam did.”

Rubbing his hands together, he grins. “I don’t care what it is. I’m starving.”

“First, I have to change. I have a whole second outfit and then we make our grand entrance as a married couple.”

“All right. Wardrobe change, entrance, food,” he recites like a to-do list. How weird must have today been for him? I’ve been so consumed with my own nerves that I haven’t had a lot of time to wonder what must have been going through his head as we said vows in front of our friends.

I take his hand and squeeze. It’s rough and warm and steadying. Somehow, he’s always steady. “I’ll be right back.”

Scarlett is waiting for me near the barn entrance with the dress bag. I snag two glasses of champagne from a server on the way to the bathroom. She helps me out of the long, white gown, and while I get into the reception dress, she carefully hangs the first one on the hanger and puts it into the bag.

“Well?” I ask, holding my hands out to my sides, “as good as you remember?”

“I love it,” she says in a quiet voice that tells me something is wrong.

“What is it?” I ask.

“It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful. The ceremony was like a dream.”

“O-kay. And that’s bad because?”

She looks away before meeting my gaze. “Aren’t you worried that when you do replace the right guy, you’re going to regret all this?”

I doubt she’d believe me if I told her it hadn’t even crossed my mind. One of the many differences between growing up with a support system and not—I’m trying to survive the day, the week, the month. Planning for the future is a luxury.

“No,” I tell her, “and you shouldn’t worry about that for me. I’m okay. Really. Today brought me one step closer to my goals.”

Picking up the champagne flutes, I hand her one. “If you can’t celebrate my fake wedding, then celebrate that.”

A smile pulls at her lips and she cocks a brow. “It wasn’t fake. You’re really married.”

“I know. Weird, right?”

She nods, then lifts her glass. “I will always celebrate you.”

“Ditto.” I start to clink my glass to hers, but she pulls it back.

“But promise me there isn’t a fake baby coming next? I’ve started grinding my teeth at night from the anxiety.” She works her jaw back and forth.

“I promise,” I say with a laugh.

The reception is a blast. Tables are decorated like something right out of a magazine (my magazine) and because the guest list was small, it feels intimate and fun. Scarlett and Piper even managed to put together a photo display with pictures of me and Declan from various events we both attended. They even found one from my engagement party, where we’re standing in the same circle, and Sam is out of the frame. How someone managed to get a pic of us that night is beyond me. He showed up with Ash for less than twenty minutes. I remember, though I don’t know why I recall that detail.

The DJ plays all my favorite songs, and Scarlett, Piper, Dakota, and I dance our hearts out for hours. Declan is the best sport about all of the couple stuff. The only time he seems to sweat is when Scarlett’s dad, the head coach of the Wildcats, stops by. I’ve known Coach Miller since I was a kid, and because Scarlett is my best friend, he’s in on the whole Sam bailing at the last-minute thing, but he’s a true gentleman and doesn’t say a word as he hugs me and offers his congratulations.

We skip toasts, but have our first dance and cut the cake, and the next thing I know, it’s time for the garter toss.

Up until this moment, I hadn’t worried about looking like a regular couple. Most of the guests are our friends and are ‘in the know,’ and we’ve been having such a fun time hanging with them, I’m sure that to anyone who doesn’t know, we look like a couple having a blast with their friends.

But as I take a seat on a chair in the middle of the dance floor and Declan squats in front of me, my pulse races. His dark eyes lock on mine as one hand closes around my ankle. He seems to wait for some signal from me.

I manage a slight nod, and his warm, calloused palm slowly drags up my calf. The single guys are crowded around, clapping and yelling.

Warmth spreads up my body as Declan’s fingers graze my knee. He pauses again and a throb starts deep in my core. Suddenly I’m all too aware of how long it’s been since a guy had his hands on me. A month? Two? I try to remember to distract myself. Sam and I had grown apart, that much is obvious with all the reflection I’ve been forced to do in the past week.

Declan’s hand disappears under my dress and a shiver rolls down my spine.

I hear Maverick yell from a table nearby, “Use your teeth!”

My eyes widen. I swear if his mouth gets near my pussy, I might combust right here in front of everyone. Is it possible to get off from this? I would have said no, but my body is betraying me. Back down, girl, you’re not getting it on with your fake husband.

Luckily, Declan keeps it PG. He replaces the lacy garter on my thigh and tugs it down at a much faster speed than his ascent to the promised land. Standing, he slingshots it into the crowd. Ash catches it and holds it up high to more cheers.

While everyone’s attention is on Ash, Declan turns to me and holds out a hand to help me up.

“Thanks.” My voice is breathy as I accept his hand and he pulls me to my feet.

His arm wraps around my waist and keeps me at his side.

“How’d I do?” he asks quietly.

“Perfect. Just the bouquet toss left, and our official duties are done.”

“All right. Where do you want me for that?”

I motion my head toward the guys. “Hang with them. I’ll replace you after.”

He pulls away, taking his warmth with him. I head to the table to grab my bouquet. A lot of women keep their real bouquet and have a second for this tradition, but I didn’t see the point in having a memento from this day. It’s beautiful—one of the few things I picked out just for me. It isn’t made up of all the trending flowers of the year or even the colors.

I’ve always liked flowers and never really had a reason to keep them around, so for one day, I wanted all the flowers I like. Muted pinks and yellows, whites. A softer, more elegant mixture than anyone would expect from me but that ended up pairing well with the whole barn and lake setting. I don’t even know the names of a lot of the flowers. I flipped through a book the florist had and pointed to all the ones I wanted. Melody insisted on some tulips in the ceremony archway (tulips are going to be big next season—her words), but I’m happy I was able to pick the rest of the flowers.

“Congratulations.” Melody steps in my path on the way to the DJ booth to let him know I’m ready for the bouquet toss. “You really pulled it off. Everything was beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

Her gaze leaves mine and travels over the party, stopping on my friends dancing in one big circle. I glance over to replace Declan looking this way, with a hint of concern over his handsome features. I look away from him back to Melody. A pleased smile is plastered on her face when she meets my stare.

“And if I didn’t know better, I’d think your new husband is smitten. The way he looked at you all night is going to sell a lot of magazines.”

I fidget uncomfortably and manage a smile back at her.

“Enjoy the honeymoon. Take lots of pictures and notes in case we decide to feature it with the wedding article. And as soon as you’re back, I want you in my office, so we can discuss the best way to continue your articles, while bringing in Declan and your new life together.”

Our life together. My stomach flutters, and my mouth goes dry. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a small wave, she turns on her heel and heads for the door. Holy crap. We did it. I threw the wedding of the season, got married, and I did it without anyone realizing I switched grooms at the last minute.

My mom stops me next.

“I’m so proud of you.” She wraps her arms around me and guilt washes over me. When I told her that Sam and I had broken up and I was marrying Declan instead, she didn’t bat an eye. I might have fibbed about the length of time between the switcheroo. A few days, a few months—we don’t talk often enough for it to make much of a difference. And I guess because she jumps into serious relationships just that fast, it was believable to her that I did too.

“Thanks, Mom.” I squeeze her with one arm. “I am going to do the bouquet toss and then I think we’ll make our exit.”

“Kenny and I are going to head out now before everyone else does,” she says. “Beat the crowd.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah. You’re staying at the hotel tonight though, right? I’ll see you in the morning before you leave. Let’s grab breakfast in the restaurant.”

She tilts her head to the side and smiles in a way that makes me dread her next words. “We’re not staying. Kenny wants to drive up to Duluth tonight and go to the casino tomorrow.” She reaches over and takes my hand, then glides her thumb over my knuckles. “You don’t need your mother. You never have, but definitely not on your wedding night. I love you. You two come see us sometime, yeah?”

Is she serious? I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s choosing Kenny over being here with me, but somehow, I am. It’s my wedding. My fake wedding, sure, but she doesn’t know that. I’ve never felt like I needed her more. I hate that feeling.

“Sure, Mom,” I say. “We’d love that.”

And just like that, I realize I’m part of a “we” now.