Page 123 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

“You better sit down,” my mother says, walking me to the sofa. She glances around, then takes her tea from the table beside her armchair and thrusts it into my hands. “Sip it. You’ll feel better.”

“Tea won’t replace Noah, Mother.”

She smiles. “No, I don’t suppose it will. Now, are you going to tell me everything?”

“Um...” There are so many secrets between Noah and me, and I don’t want to reveal everything. “Noah and I got married quickly.”

“I’ve forgiven you for not inviting me to your wedding, dear.”

“No, I mean, we got married three days after we met.”

My mother’s eyebrows leap upward, then her shoulders ease. “But you’d known each other for years beforehand? Online? That’s how your generation does it, right?”

I’m silent, and she squeezes my knee.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she says, which is how she begins most things that I should be ashamed of, but I don’t call her on that. “Think of all those mail-order bridesin the old days. They didn’t even have proper pictures in those days. And you have video.”

“Noah followed me online for years,” I say. “ButIdidn’t know him. We said that to seem less scandalous.”

“Oh.” My mother draws back, her mouth rounded. “Oh.”

I slide my gaze to her. “Are you appalled?”

Her lips twitch, then she says airily, “I’m merely taken aback that you care about not seeming scandalous.”

I try to laugh. The sound isn’t pleasant, to be honest, and my mother wrinkles her tiny, upturned nose.

“Why did you marry him if you just met him?”

“There was some alcohol involved, but...” I press my lips together. “I don’t think I would have married anyone, no matter how much alcohol was involved. It made me lose my inhibitions.”

“You don’t have many inhibitions to begin with.”

I scowl. “I really liked him.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“I mean, Ireallyliked him.”

“That’s because you loved him.”

I bury my head in my hands and wonder whether I can scurry out of the room, and we can both pretend I wasn’t ever here.

My insides feel squishy and unpleasant, as if someone’s taken a compact roller to them when I wasn’t paying attention.

I haven’t talked to Noah about my feelings, not really. I thought I had more time. I thought I had a year. I thought I had a year to convince him how wonderful we were together.

“I suppose you’re correct,” I say finally.

“Of course, I’m correct. I’m your mother. So, you liked him so much you decided to marry him after three days?” Her eyes glint.

“Basically.”

“Have you been with men before?”

I shake my head. “I never thought about it before I met Noah. And I only thought about it after we got married.”

“Because it was convenient?”