Perfectly Wedded (Perfect Crush #1)

21. Sloan

TWENTY-ONE

Sloan

“ G orgeous,” I say when Jaz comes out of the bathroom in her pink dress for tonight’s surprise date.

Jaz decided we should get ready together—without the guys—and promptly kicked Vale out of our room. Gloomily, he headed off to find Brax, suit in hand.

“That way, we can surprise them with our stunning transformation from beach bums to glamor girls,” Jaz said after shutting the door behind Vale.

For the next hour, we cram into the bathroom, covering the counter in travel tubes of makeup and magical lotions that promise to turn me into a goddess. Jaz forces me into some glittery highlighter to “accentuate my cheekbones” and pulls my hair into a sexy loose updo with a few stray curls that frame my face.

I choose an off-the-shoulder yellow dress that complements my dark hair and finish it off with a pop of lip gloss that smells like vanilla. When we finally come down to the lobby, Vale is talking to Brax, his back toward me.

Brax nudges him, then nods. When Vale spins around, his gaze sweeps over me. Judging by the spark in his eyes, he thoroughly approves.

I stop short of wanting to press myself into a hug, but he does it for me, closing the gap between us. “You look beautiful,” he murmurs against my ear, sending shivers down my arm. How is he so good at this? Always making me simultaneously shiver while blood courses through my veins like lava.

I run a finger over the lapel of his suit coat. “You’re like a hot mafia man.”

He laughs. “Is that a good thing?”

I lift an eyebrow. “I’m highly combustible right now, and you’re a lit match in that suit. Way too dangerous to be standing this close to me.”

He tugs me closer, slides a hand across my back and whispers, “The feeling is mutual. So let’s burn it all down tonight.”

My heart leaps. Yes, let’s.

When we arrive at the dock, Jaz nearly squeals with excitement at our surprise date. We board the enormous boat, where couples lounge on the top deck, fancy drinks in hand, looking like the type of people who have yachts of their own. It’s one of those high-end tourist experiences I could never have afforded in a past life, but thanks to Vale, I now have access to.

I twist the skin on my wrist, just to remind myself this is real. This dream life is my life now. Nothing could ruin tonight.

We’re handed complimentary drinks as we board and choose a table with an amazing view of the water. As the boat sets sail along the coastline, I lean into Vale’s arm, admiring the endless views of water and a sky so big it feels like we could sail to the ends of the earth.

He leans toward me, whispering in my ear. “Does this feel too much like senior prom on a boat?”

I muffle my laughter. “Senior, as in, citizens?”

Many of the guests are double our age plus a few decades, and the women are wearing beaded mother-of-the-bride gowns.

“Now that you mention it”—he looks around—“we are the young bucks on this cruise. Sorry I didn’t choose the singles’ party boat. That might have been more fun for you.”

“Getting hit on by drunken twentysomethings who will call me the wrong name and slosh their boozy drinks on me somehow doesn’t have the same appeal.”

Vale’s grip tightens around me. “If anyone hits on you tonight, they will lose their teeth.”

“Vale,” I say biting back a smile, “most of these men don’t even have their real teeth.”

He laughs and rubs the back of my arm in small circles, something that drives me insanely crazy. It’s not until a waiter approaches with king crab legs and jumbo shrimp that he finally stops touching me. We feast on so much food that I lean back in my chair, fully satisfied, the remnants of crab shells and shrimp tails littering my plate. A waiter offers me a bright green key lime macaron, while Vale finishes his tiramisu.

“If I eat any more, I’ll be sick,” I say, spinning my macaron in my fingers before I turn to Vale. “Do you want to head to the upper deck and puke over the railing?” I give him a cheeky grin.

He throws down his napkin. “There’s no one I’d rather lose my dinner with.”

Jaz and Brax stay at our table, sharing a tiramisu and promising to join us for dancing later.

When we reach the top deck, a sultry saxophone plays in the corner of the dance floor. I prop my elbows on the ship’s railing, admiring the bloom of colors in the sky, like a woman’s skirt spread across the horizon, all orange and pink taffeta.

“I love everything about this,” I say, feeling better already. Turns out, I just needed fresh air and a short walk.

He slings an arm around my waist, like it’s always belonged there. Like it was made to touch me.

I love being here with Vale, adore being his wife.

I should tell him. Share with him exactly how I feel, how I always want it to be this way. Just us. He still doesn’t know why I turned him down the first time he asked me out, and it’s something I’ve avoided talking about, mainly because it’s about me.

“Vale, I’ve been wanting to tell you something,” I begin, the words a lump in my throat, aching to climb out .

“What is it?” he asks, his face turning toward mine.

This is my chance to explain that he wasn’t the reason I said no. I was. I couldn’t ruin what we had.

“This thing between you and me,” I say. “It’s been incredible, but...”

“But?” he asks, like I’m about to drop some bad news on him.

“Not but ,” I flounder. Wrong choice of words. “I wanted to explain why I said no the first time you asked me out.”

There’s a tap on the shoulder, probably a waiter with more food. When I turn to say No, thank you , I’m met with the last person on earth I’d expect to see.

“Anthony?” I gasp.

Anthony holds a drink in one hand, wearing an immaculate tux. Probably something his rich parents bought him for all his galas.

“I thought that was you,” he says, not addressing Vale, a smile playing on his lips. He seems only too happy to intrude on us.

“Why are you in Cancun?” I blurt, wishing this nightmare would just go away. Not him. Not now.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he says.

That’s when I remember Vale beside me. I grab his hand for support so I don’t topple over from the shock. He knits his fingers through mine, as if to say I’m here for you. “We’re on our honeymoon.”

“Oh, right.” His brow pinches. “Vegas wasn’t enough?”

“I can never have enough of her,” Vale says, drawing his shoulders up to his full six-four height. He makes Anthony seem small in comparison. Then he pulls me into his hip, my back pressed to his front, one arm snaking around my waist. “I’ll take every opportunity to be alone with my wife. ” He looks down at me, a faint grin that rumbles through me like a volcanic explosion, his words coursing hot through my veins.

“Is Demetria here?” I say, looking over his shoulder, expecting a woman in a black dress to rise from the ocean like a giant tentacled sea monster .

“No, this is a business trip,” he says, taking a sip of his drink. Funny... so was the gala, and he didn’t have a problem with flaunting her there.

“It seems like wherever we go, you keep showing up,” Vale says with a tight smile.

“Pure coincidence,” Anthony says, motioning toward a group of older men in suits behind him. “I’m wooing some philanthropists who need to be wined and dined before they’ll give money to the U.S. Skating Federation. It’s just part of the job.”

Anthony’s eyes skim over the antique ring on my finger. “Is hockey not paying well these days?”

“What?” I balk. “Why would you ask that?”

“I’d expected a rock on your finger, not diamond chips.”

He means it as an insult to Vale since Demetria’s ring looked like a freaking planet with its own galaxy.

“I picked it out,” I say, my anger flaring. “Because I don’t like big gaudy diamonds.”

Anthony sniffs, unimpressed. “Appropriate for a college skating coach.”

Ouch.

When I took the coaching job at the university, Anthony told me he didn’t think it was good enough. That I was settling. He wanted me to keep training for skating competitions. To be his “little star,” because it made him look good to date a successful athlete. But I was done competing, the stress of it wrecking my mental health, while I battled constant injuries.

When I told him I wasn’t returning to skating, he was disappointed not just because I was “settling for something less,” but because I couldn’t stick it out. He called me unfocused, blamed my diagnosis, even though I was ready for a change and my ADHD had nothing to do with it.

I love teaching college skaters—the thrill of seeing them improve, the relationships built over four years before they launch into the world.

Even if he hadn’t cheated on me while I was recovering, I would have ended it between us. He was always looking for something to fill the hole, the parts of him that were never satisfied, like Dad. And I wasn’t good enough for either of them.

Isn’t that why Dad never calls or visits, even now? Because there’s always someone better. A new work acquaintance who invites him to a lake house. Another girlfriend to take wine tours with. A dopamine hit of meeting someone who’s better than the last.

You always date someone like your father. It never really rang true for me, until now, as I realize Anthony and my father are strangely similar, always looking for that person to make them feel more impressive so they’ll feel better about themselves.

Anyone who’s too much work is left behind. And I’ve always been too much for people. I talk too much. I flit from one thing to the next. I have big emotions, and I wear them on my sleeve like a preschooler’s paint shirt.

But somehow Vale never makes me feel like too much. He never gets that exasperated look Anthony always had when I talked too much. And he’s never accused me of quitting or thought me reckless for taking chances. Isn’t that why I married him? Because he asked me to take a risk and we took the plunge together?

Anthony drains his glass, changing the subject. “I plan on taking Demetria to the Amalfi Coast for our honeymoon. She loves Italy.”

He’s trying to one-up us, being a total schmuck to Vale on our honeymoon. That’s the thing about people who are always comparing themselves to you. They try to make you feel small so that they can feel better about themselves.

“I love this place,” I say with a smile so wide, I’m nearly glowing. “Vale took me on my first snorkeling excursion, which was fantastic.”

Anthony frowns slightly. He’s never liked swimming all that much. He’s more the yacht club type, who loves big boats, probably to make up for what he’s lacking in other departments .

“I heard from someone you hadn’t been feeling well again.” He attempts a look of fake concern, but it looks more like he sucked on a lemon. The man is about as compassionate as a rock.

I cross my arms. Who told him ? We never had many mutual friends. When he left me, I had no one except my sister and the skaters at the university. He kept me emotionally caged so that I depended on him for everything—social interactions, professional connections, even friendships. Losing him meant losing my entire network. And I’ll never let a man do that to me again, controlling my community and my friends so I’m invisible. Forcing me to be less so he could be more.

Vale would never dream of pushing me down so he could lift himself up. Even though we share friend groups—including the entire hockey team and Crushers’ staff—he’d never ask me to give those friendships up if things don’t work out.

“Is it true?” he asks again. “You’re relapsing?”

“I’m feeling much better, Anthony. Thank you for your concern .” We both know he’s not concerned about my health. Otherwise, why would he have left me at my worst? People who love you don’t abandon you when life gets hard. They stay when nobody else does.

Or in my case, Vale stayed. He brought me cold compresses when my head hurt. He rubbed my forehead when I couldn’t sleep. He even attempted to make soup for me even though he didn’t know how and the noodles were mush. He asked me, How can I help you? What can I do? even if all I needed was someone to listen to me.

It’s what made me fall so hard for him. And it’s the same reason I turned him down the first time he asked me out. I didn’t want to ruin the friendship I had with him.

Which is ironic in hindsight, because my marriage just might.

Anthony turns to Vale. “You look surprisingly different in a suit. Less like a barbaric hockey player.”

“I like barbaric hockey players in suits,” I say. “And out of them . ”

Anthony gapes. I grin at Vale. Knowing we’ve never even had a real kiss, this is just a fantasy. But Anthony doesn’t know that.

My ex turns to me, face pinched. “I’m surprised you’re still in your hockey era. Never thought you’d date someone like him.”

Someone who couldn’t be less like Anthony.

Vale stiffens beside me, his hand rubbing over the curve of my waist. He could snap Anthony in half if he wanted to. But he pretends not to be bothered by this slight.

But I’m bothered. Too much.

“You thought this was temporary?” I loop my arms around Vale, almost climbing the man like a tree. Then I tip my face to my husband. “You have no idea how hot this man is. I could never grow tired of him.”

Anthony flinches, while Vale’s pupils flare. He cups one side of my face, kisses my forehead, his lips lingering there while heat races down my body.

It’s enough to make Anthony shift, glance away.

The victory prize of the night.

Vale smiles at me, nuzzles his nose against my cheek. “I hit the lottery when I met Sloan.” His fingers knit into mine as the saxophone wails a slow tune. His eyes never leave mine. “Excuse us, but I’ve been waiting all night to dance with my wife .”

Anthony’s eyes follow us to the dance floor, glowing from the hanging twinkle lights above us. The sun has sunk below the horizon, casting everything in an orangish, otherworldly glow.

Vale pulls me so close to him, I can feel the warmth of his body through my dress. Through the pressure points where our bodies meet.

For a moment, we don’t say anything. He twines his fingers with mine, as his other hand presses against my lower back, like he’s letting Anthony know I’m his. We gently sway together to the jazzy cry of the sax, and my body finally exhales.

I’m where I’m meant to be, and I don’t want this to ever end. Vale and me together, while the whole world looks on.

“Sorry about that,” I finally say. “He can be such a jerk.”

“Don’t apologize for Anthony being the way he is. He could help himself, but he walked right into that one on his own. When you made that comment about barbaric hockey players, the look on his face was priceless.”

“He deserved it after the way he treated you.”

“He hasn’t liked me since we met in Vegas,” Vale says. “I don’t take it personally. I’m the one who got the prize.” His hand presses me closer, reminding me I’m the prize, our bodies creating pockets of energy and heat.

“Oh, he’d be glad to tell you how relieved he is to be rid of me. He never wanted someone who’s broken.”

“You are not broken,” Vale says, offended I would say it.

“He always thought I was,” I reply, my body cocooned into him like he’s my safe space to admit this. “He saw my ADHD as a liability—saw me as too unfocused and scattered instead of seeing the good parts. The way it helped me take risks. When I had the car accident, he couldn’t accept the fact that I might not heal. That this might be the death of my success and reflect poorly on him.”

“If anyone is unworthy, it’s him,” Vale mutters, his hand sliding up my back protectively.

“I know that now,” I say with a sigh. “He never supported me in my dreams. Never loved me for who I was. He’s probably so relieved to be free of me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Vale says. He pulls back just enough to see me with his darkened pupils. “If he’s so glad to not be with you, then why is he watching you with me, looking like his last hope just died?”

“What?” I swallow and turn my head toward where Anthony is standing, expecting to see him chatting it up with his rich clients.

Instead, he’s leaning against the railing, body turned toward me, his brow furrowed, his hands sunk into his pockets.

“But he has Demetria. He never really wanted me,” I say, more as a reminder to myself than Vale. I don’t want Anthony back, but I never believed there was a chance. Never believed he could want me. From there, I began to believe no one could want me.

“You think she has anything on you?” Vale lets out a low rumble of a laugh. “Right now he feels like the smallest man who ever lived. Because he knows what he lost and he can never get it back.”

His words drill through me, send a seismic quake through every part of me.

Vale leans close to my ear. “If you want, we can take it to the next level. Give him the kiss of a lifetime.” His lips are so close to mine, I can smell the sugar-sweet tiramisu in his breath, a hint of spice on his lips.

My heart is a drumbeat in my ears, adding to the confusion in my body. I’m not sure if I want to make Anthony regret letting me go, or if this ache is because I want this man next to me.

If none of this is real, the possibility of this kiss shouldn’t mean anything. It shouldn’t affect me this way.

But it does affect me. Because I want him. All of him.

I don’t even think about my decision.

I melt into him and drink in his lips. He responds to me instantly, sliding a hand to my jaw, arching it toward him for a better angle, then consuming my lips.

My body curves into him, wanting to be closer, closer. His hand slides into my hair, tangling into it, like he can’t get enough, and I respond by knotting my fist into his shirt, pulling him toward me, feeling the heat under his jacket. He bends me backward, almost a dip but not quite, and continues to drag kisses on every inch of my cheek, neck, earlobe.

I don’t want to stop. I won’t. But I’m nearly breathless. The dance floor is spinning. I feel consumed by him.

When the sax stops playing, everyone claps, and a few people whistle. That’s when I realize most of them are smiling at our very intimate public kiss.

Except for Anthony, who’s gone .

Heat is still pulsating over every inch of my skin, so I step away from Vale, just enough to catch my breath and stop the dizzy feeling. That’s when I realize the boat is swaying, tipping dangerously.

“Is there something wrong with this boat?” I ask, blinking, glancing around, suddenly feeling like the world is madly spinning.

“No, why?” Vale looks at me, his brow furrowing. There’s a look of intense concern, then panic as he grabs my arms.

“Sloan, no!”

And then everything goes black.