Perfectly Wedded (Perfect Crush #1)

10. Vale

TEN

Vale

“ I t’s all an easy sell,” I tell Sloan, before entering the media room for our press conference at the ice arena. “As long as we don’t say too much, they’ll buy our story.”

She bites her lip as her brows knit together. “That’s the problem. I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing.” She’s changed into a pair of dress slacks with a cropped blazer and tank, trying to balance the look of being a professional hockey player’s wife with her new status as influencer.

“Are you sure I have to be here?” she asks.

“It looks better if you are. More believable,” I remind her. “Just leave the answers to me.”

As we make our way through the administrative offices, I greet everyone with a casual nod while trying to avoid their questioning looks. I grab Sloan’s hand and steamroll past everyone so we don’t get sidetracked, even though I can feel the tension around us. Everyone is wondering the same thing. How did this happen?

We’ll deal with the Crushers’ staff later. Right now we have to face down the lions.

When we finally reach the media room, Lauren Williamson, our new PR person, is already waiting for us. She’s dressed to kill in a red leather jacket with matching heels, her dark hair pulled back into a slick topknot. Lauren has the confidence of a cougar even though her bubbly personality makes her everyone’s favorite PR person. Her ability to woo people is astounding, and she can spin any news with rainbows and glitter, no matter how bad it is. And by rainbows and glitter, I mean she’s an epic wordsmith and master spin doctor. But underneath that razzle-dazzle is a relentlessly tough chic who refuses to back down when the media pressures us.

She gives me an easy smile, even though I know what we’re about to face will be anything but easy. “You ready for this? If not, I have a sheet to brief you on talking points.” She holds out a paper color-coded with bullet points.

“So what you’re saying is you’re slacking off again,” I remark with a smile.

She shrugs. “You know me. I can’t do things halfway. Not in a man’s world.” She doesn’t mean it as a criticism. We all know the hockey industry is rife with men. It’s hard for women like Lauren and Jaz to be taken seriously.

I look over her talking points. Her answers are vague, yet professional, just like I’ve planned. Yes, we eloped. No, we weren’t drunk. Of course we’re in love. No, it isn’t for professional gain. There isn’t anything on here I haven’t prepared for, and this gives me a boost of confidence that I can handle the press without Sloan saying a word. “Looks good. Thanks, Lauren.”

Sloan glances from the paper to Lauren. “Do you really think they’ll ask if our marriage is real?”

Lauren nods. “Expect it. They’re already convinced there’s dirt on you both unless you prove them otherwise. That’s the press’s job—to smell if something’s off and dig it up.”

“Whatever happened to innocent until proven guilty?” Sloan says.

“It’s the opposite with the media. That’s where I come in,” she says with a reassuring smile.

I squeeze Sloan’s hand gently to remind her I’ve got this. “You don’t need to worry about it. I’m used to handling the press. ”

Sloan fidgets as we wait outside in the hall, listening to the journalists gather in the room.

Team owner Rafael Marco appears in the hall and stops in front of us. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. MacPherson.” He shakes our hands before turning to me. “Can I talk to you before you face the firing squad?” He offers us his trademark mystery grin, and I can’t tell if he’s joking or serious.

“I’m all ears,” I reply.

He levels his gaze at me. “I hope that whatever you say today will represent the team well. We’re rebuilding our reputation after the fallout with past leadership. So I hope this is the only press conference we’ll need about this particular issue. We don’t want any more trouble.”

“Of course. And we won’t give you any,” I say. As long as our marital arrangement stays secret.

“Good,” he says with a nod. “I just wanted to be clear.”

His words feel like a vague attempt at a warning. Almost like he doesn’t fully believe we’re in love either.

When we enter the media room, Sloan and I take seats at the front behind a table. Behind us, a curtain with the team logo for the Carolina Crushers provides the perfect framing for the camera. The room is packed with reporters and photographers who quiet as soon as we sit down.

I look over at Sloan, who is now bouncing her knee nervously under the table. Since the Crushers tablecloth covers our legs, I place my hand on her knee without anyone seeing it. Immediately, her knee stops moving and she gives me a quick glance.

I keep my hand there through the first five questions, squeezing her knee every time it starts bouncing again. The questions are all ones I’m prepared for: Are you really married? Why did you get married in Vegas? Was this a decision you made while under the influence? Why didn’t you wait?

Then a reporter stands who I don’t recognize. He turns to Sloan and totally ignores eye contact with me. “Mrs. MacPherson, I’ve heard you haven’t been well since your accident and that you’ve experienced a relapse with your brain injury. How did your health play into the decision to marry Vale?”

Sloan’s whole body tenses and her knee starts bouncing again. We hadn’t practiced this question, because so few people knew about Sloan’s injury. It seemed like a part of her past, not her future, and we thought we’d covered our trail.

I glance at her, and my heart sinks. Her face is pale, her wide eyes full of fear. She looks absolutely terrified. Both knees are bouncing, so I hook my leg over hers, just to stop her from fidgeting.

“My wife’s health is good,” I blurt out.

“I didn’t address the question to you, Mr. MacPherson,” the reporter says. “It’s for your wife.”

“When it comes to my wife, she is my business,” I shoot back.

Sloan’s hand finds mine under the table. “It’s okay. I can answer.”

She swallows, then turns back to the reporter. “My health is good, though not totally back to normal. We have some other options to try, but I have full confidence that I’ll return to a normal life. If there’s any question about my ability, I’ve gone back to work and resumed coaching skaters. As far as our decision to marry...” She pauses, then glances at me nervously, before turning back. “There was never any question. I’ve always wanted to spend my life with Vale.”

Her answer is like a shot of adrenaline flooding my system, giving me a sliver of hope that we can convince everyone this marriage is real. I know her answer was just for show, but she said it with such conviction, even I almost believed it.

“One more question,” Lauren says from the back of the room. “And then Vale needs to head to practice.”

A reporter from The Charleston Times stands in the front. “Are you taking a honeymoon? And if so, where?”

I shake my head. “No plans for a honeymoon yet. Even if we were, I wouldn’t announce it. I don’t want any of you showing up to ruin our fun. ”

The reporters chuckle as Sloan and I leave the room. As soon as we’re in the hall, Sloan breathes a sigh of relief.

Lauren hurries down the hall to find us, her face beaming. “Good idea to leave them laughing at the end.”

“You’ve trained me well,” I say. “But seriously, I don’t want those clowns crashing my honeymoon.”

Sloan’s eyes catch mine, and my heart leaps. No matter how much I’d love to have her all to myself on a secluded beach, I know she’d never agree to it.

“I need to head to practice,” I tell Sloan, trying to erase that honeymoon image from my mind. “Will you be okay until I get home?”

Sloan nods, but I sense this media thing shook her up. “I think I’ll stop in and see Jaz before I go.”

“I’m headed that way. We could go together,” Lauren offers before they head down the hallway.

Brendan approaches me as the journalists file out of the room. With his dark hair and tattooed arms, he’s an intimidating figure—exactly the reason he was hired as our conditioning coach

“Good job in there. Even Sloan was a natural. How’s the team taking the news about your Vegas wedding?”

“I’m about to find out,” I say. “Judging by the reaction of the people I live with, it won’t go well.”

“Even Jaz and Brax?”

“Well...” I hesitate, trying to figure out how much to say.

Brendan leans against the wall, folding his arms. “Let me guess, they’re happy, but equally ticked at you for not telling them.”

“You know my brother and sister-in-law well.”

He chuckles. “Jaz hates not knowing things first. Especially since she’s the team’s Mother Hen. But I don’t blame you for not telling them. You didn’t want them talking you out of it.”

“Exactly.” I nod. There was too much at stake.

Brendan looks down the hall to make sure no one can overhear us. “Some decisions are yours alone to make, no matter the reason.”

That sounds strangely accurate, probably because no one ever tells Brendan what to do. “Thanks for understanding.”

“Anytime,” he says. “I just hope I get the same ending someday.”

“You mean eloping so the press will hound you for details?”

“Nah, I’ll save that one for you,” he jokes, before his face shifts slightly. “I hope the reason you did it is worth it though.”

“Isn’t love always worth it?” I reply.

Brendan looks at me for a beat. “Love, yeah. It’s the only reason. Because if you marry for anything else, it’ll come back to bite you . Trust me.”