Page 31 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

The game is a blur. We win, which is good, though neither Finn nor I play a huge role.

The PR department released statements about Finn and us during the game, mentioning our excitement for our marriage and a request for privacy.

Finally, we are in our hotel.

“It’s your honeymoon,” Troy says with a grin.

“Um, yes.” My gaze flickers to Finn. My husband. He’s talking with his friends. Not my friends. Since, technically, I don’t have any here.

Troy holds up his card. “I can’t share a room with Finn during your honeymoon. Change with me.”

“You want to share with a rookie?” I’m currently rooming with Andy, who is almost as new as I am.

“You don’t want to share with your husband?” Troy’s gaze narrows slightly, and I grab the key.

“Of course, I do. Thank you. That’s, um, great.”

Then I find Finn. Nervousness flutters over his face when he sees me, and I try to ignore the way my stomach sinks. I shouldn’t be so in tune to his every micro expression. I shouldn’t be able to judge the millimeters shifts of his stance and his facial expression, even from yards away.

He recovers quickly. Hockey players move faster than most people, then he pulls me into a hug. I pretend I didn’t see his nervousness, and he pretends he’s in love with me.

“Hi babe,” he says.

I’m not sure if anyone else hears the hesitation in his voice before he gives me his endearment.

“I’m rooming with you tonight,” I say. “Troy switched keys with me.”

“That’s...nice.”

Okay, I’m sure that multiple people noticed the pause there. I pull him toward me, hoping that people will be distracted by our romantic pose, and not spend their time analyzing our language.

Because even if he’s uncomfortable, he wants this to work. I don’t want him to do all the work in establishing that we have a romantic relationship. This isn’t only his burden.

I brush my lips against his temple, the sort of casual move that longtime couples make without thinking. He shudders beneath my lips.

I’ve done too much. My stomach twists, and I remember Madison, the curvy brunette in high heels who wandered his apartment like she owned it. She didn’t stare at the view in disbelief, her eyes widening at each fixture. She fit with him, and I don’t.

Because even if Finn was anything besides a heterosexual athlete with a deep admiration for the female form, he wouldn’t be with me.

I’m sure Boston is swarming with attractive men who would slot into his life nicely. I swallow hard, and he nudges my shoulder, as if he can notice when something is wrong even if we’re not looking at each other.

“You should go out to dinner tonight,” Luke says. “LA has lots of romantic restaurants.”

Finn smiles. “Luke loves watching dating shows.”

“If you watched more of them, you wouldn’t be suggesting you spend your second night of marriage in a hotel room.”

Finn raises his eyebrow, and Luke’s face pales.

“Oh,” Luke’s mouth rounds, like his jaw struggles from resisting gravity. “Oh.”

Finn grasps my hand in his. “Let’s go, honey bunny. I bet this hotel has room service.”

Laughing, we hurry for the elevators, as our other teammates drift away for dinner and dancing.

“I hope you didn’t really want a romantic dinner,” Finn says, as we enter the hotel room. “I thought we might have to avoid paparazzi.”

“I like spending time with you,” I say, and he flashes me a wide grin.