Perfectly Wedded (Perfect Crush #1)

29. Sloan

TWENTY-NINE

Sloan

“ H old it right there,” the photographer says, motioning for me to freeze in my wedding gown.

I smile as he takes what feels like a million shots from different angles. “A few more in case you blink,” he explains, clicking the button. “Okay, you can relax.”

I can’t decide what I’m more nervous about—this ridiculously over-the-top photoshoot before the wedding ceremony or my wedding night with Vale. There’s no doubt which one I’m more excited for. Ever since the honeymoon, I’ve been waiting for tonight. Honestly, it feels like a waste of time not to skip this whole shindig and head straight to the honeymoon. But we owe our family and friends this wedding. After all, they missed our first one, and we can’t just bail on them now.

Our family and friends have insisted on celebrating the MacPherson Wedding 2.0. We’re making up for everything Vegas lacked—no white dress, no loved ones to cheer us on, no after-party to celebrate the biggest decision of our lives. Even the vows we exchanged at the Little Pink Chapel of Love felt more like going through the motions than real promises.

Yes, we’re married by law, but what is marriage if there’s no commitment, no agreement to love someone through all the wonderful and horrible things life throws at you? Today, we’re making that kind of promise.

In the meantime, we agreed to let The Star Report do separate photoshoots with each of us right before the wedding ceremony. We’ll have final approval of all photos and demanded only two conditions from them: Vale won’t get to see me until I walk down the aisle—something we both wanted for our wedding day—and Jaz gets to be here instead, making sure I don’t end up with lipstick on my teeth or tripping over my dress in front of the camera.

As a last-minute request, a journalist tagging along with the photographer asked if they could interview us beforehand—something I wasn’t thrilled about, but Jaz encouraged us to agree to.

“The more information you control, the better,” she told us. “Otherwise, they’ll be asking your guests questions about you. Do you really want Leo or Rourke to comment on your marriage?”

“No,” we both answered in unison.

Jaz may not be our official PR person, but after marrying Brax, she quickly figured out how to work the press to her advantage, one of her many useful skills.

While I endure my photoshoot, Vale is being interviewed privately. It must be going well, because he sends a quick message.

Vale

There’s something we need to talk about. A surprise for our wedding today.

Jaz glances over my gown and gives me a smile of approval. “I was right,” she says as she approaches me. “Vale won’t be able to concentrate on anything but you when he sees you in that dress.”

She and Mia picked it out—or in my case, insisted I buy the formfitting silk gown that shows off my shoulders and my curves.

“I wish Vale were here for this part,” I say. “I don’t know why they need to interview us alone. It feels like a crime interrogation. ”

She fixes my hair, brushing it over my shoulders with her fingers. “They want your perspective. And I’ll be there.”

Although the photographer has been perfectly pleasant during the shoot, the journalist gives off a cagey vibe that makes me uncomfortable. He waves Jaz and me over to a private outdoor tent set up away from the ceremony. Even though we’re having the wedding in our backyard, The Star Report insisted on setting up their own headquarters for their equipment. I sit across from the journalist as he pulls out his laptop and opens a list of questions. His phone buzzes, and he glances at the message, his brow wrinkling slightly before turning back to his laptop. “Let’s go back to the beginning—in Vegas.”

“You want to talk about our first wedding?” I keep my expression neutral, though I’m surprised they want to rehash it again. We’ve told this story more times than I can count.

“Yes,” he says. “Just to confirm some new developments in your story.”

New developments? I don’t know what he’s talking about unless Vale mentioned something. This is the downside of not getting interviewed at the same time.

I fiddle with my fingers, afraid of saying too much about our elopement. “Since we’d been friends for a couple of years, we already knew each other well. Maybe it looked like insta-love, but really it was a slow-burn romance.”

“Romance?” he questions. “You didn’t consider it a convenient solution?”

I frown as something prickles up my spine. “A convenient solution for what?”

“For your insurance problem. You couldn’t get coverage for your medicine, and Vale had what you needed—a good plan that covered the drugs. Is that correct?” He makes it sound like I had some devious, gold-digging scheme.

My stomach feels like a bag that someone just dumped over. I don’t look at my sister, but I hear her body shift, feel her leaning in. If she sees the fear behind my eyes, she’ll know that it’s true .

“I’m sorry, but that’s none of your business,” I say. “Just because Vale had insurance to cover my medicine doesn’t mean you can make assumptions about why we married.”

It’s not that I care about my reputation. They can trash my reputation if they want to. But I care about Vale, especially how the press treats him and what this could mean for his career. I know he wants to make it to the NHL someday, and I don’t want to be the obstacle in his way.

The journalist clicks a few buttons, then looks at his screen, which, of course, I conveniently can’t see. “We interviewed a source who gave us the complete story.”

Who told him this? It had to be someone who overheard us. I might not ever find out who, but right now, my job is damage control—no matter the cost to my reputation. I can’t let Vale get dragged down with me.

“So you have one person who made an assumption about us,” I argue. “Probably a stranger wanting to make a quick buck. You’re going to take their word as truth?”

His lips quirk, like he knows a secret I don’t. “We just interviewed your husband. Don’t you think he would confirm it?”

My stomach twists. He would never admit to this. He knows how my sister feels about lying, how this would ruin our relationship if she found out, crushing me in the process.

“I don’t believe you,” I fire back. And then I remember Vale’s text, something urgent he wanted to talk about.

I glance over at my sister, whose face has turned ashen. I can’t let her think this idiot reporter knows the truth before she does. I have to make her believe me, even if the rest of the world doubts the legitimacy of our relationship. If she doubts me, she’ll see me as no better than our father.

I clench my fists in my lap and level my gaze. “I love my husband, and I have zero doubts he feels the same about me. Anyone who questions our marriage will have to answer to us. Insurance or not, I’d marry him again. Which is why we’re here today. ”

“If that’s the case, how do you feel about the fact that you no longer have coverage for your new medicine?”

“What?” I frown, wondering where he got this information. “I think you’re mistaken.”

Jaz clears her throat, glancing between me and the reporter nervously. “He didn’t tell you? There was a last-minute announcement about an insurance change. I’m surprised he didn’t mention it.”

Unless he was scared to, afraid this was one of the reasons I stayed with him. He should know by now that insurance has nothing to do with how I feel about him.

I jut my chin out. “It doesn’t matter whether our insurance changes or whether he switches teams or even moves to a new league. I’m with him forever. And that includes going to the NHL someday.”

The man lifts an eyebrow. “Then why did Vale sign a new contract that doesn’t allow him to move, even though the NHL was interested in a deal?”

I frown. “He didn’t sign anything...” I begin, but the man wordlessly hands me his phone. My eyes fall on the screen, an article glaring back at me with the headline: Vale MacPherson Signs New Contract to Stay with the Crushers, Delays NHL Dreams.

My stomach plummets as I skim over the story. By asking for the no-movement clause, Vale gave up his best shot at the NHL—right when he was on the verge of making it. All because of me.

My whole body goes numb. Even if he feels bound to his promise, this is too much. I’m too much. What was I thinking, dragging Vale into my mess? My life has always been a train wreck, and he took it on willingly, thinking he could help. But someday, he’ll look at me the way my sister looks at our father—like I’m the one who messed up his life.

I drop his phone on the table. “This interview is over.”

When I wheel around to Jaz, her seat is empty. Gone before I can even explain .

If she doesn’t understand why I did this, I don’t know how I’ll live with myself.

There’s only one choice left. One way to stop everyone from getting hurt because of me.