Page 93 of Rule 1: Never Accidentally Marry Your Teammate

Finn frowns and passes me my water bottle.

Evan places his dumbbell back. He nudges Vinnie, and they seem to have one of those silent couple conversations that involve facial expressions and huffs but not actual words.

Finally, Vinnie stalks toward me. His muscles bulge and glisten. He’s chosen the most intimidating time to talk to us.

Unlike Finn and me, Vinnie plays defense, and he’s fought on the ice before. I draw back automatically.

Vinnie puffs out some air, then his gaze bounces everywhere but on me. “I’m sorry about what I said at the wedding.”

“It’s okay—”

“Thank you for your apology.” Finn’s voice is sharp, and he slips his arm around my waist. When I glide my gaze toward him, I am not surprised to see that he is glaring at our captain’s boyfriend, the top defenseman in the Blizzards.

Vinnie’s cheeks go ruddy. “I shouldn’t have made assumptions.”

“Gay men are everywhere,” Finn says. “And, um, bisexual ones. “

“Yes.” Vinnie nods contritely.

I’m used to seeing Vinnie look ferocious during games and I’m not accustomed to this meeker version.

“Look. Since we’re both coupled up, it might be nice to have dinner together.”

“You want to double date with us?” Finn’s eyes widen.

“Well, Evan’s daughter will be there. We can meet at our place on Beacon Hill for a barbecue.”

“Oh.” I glance at Finn.

For some reason, Vinnie smiles.

“Yes,” Finn says. “That sounds nice.”

“Er—cool.” Vinnie backs away.

“Be sure not to burn anything!” Finn calls after him. “We’ve already listened to your shit. We don’t want to eat it.”

I squeeze Finn’s hand. “That’s enough.”

Vinnie swings round, laughing. “Guess, you’re the nice one, Noah.”

“He sure is.” Even though it’s not strictly necessary, because Evan and Vinnie seem to be buying us as a couple, Finn wraps his arms around my waist, pulls me close, and gives me a light kiss on the lips.

He steps away after it happens, but my heart continues to beat wildly as we step onto our treadmills.

A couple days later we find ourselves staring at Evan’s and Vinnie’s not very modest townhouse.

Beacon Hill is not far from Seaport, and we strolled the mile or so there, past the tall modern glass buildings to the tall old stone buildings in Downtown Crossing, before we moved across Boston Common, then headed up to Beacon Hill’s narrow cobbled streets.

“Did we go back two centuries?” Iwhisper to Finn.

“I promise they have running water.” Finn takes my hand, and we stroll up to the house, and ring the doorbell.

Footsteps rush toward us, then a little girl opens the door.

“They’re here!” she screams.

“Hi Stella,” Finn says. “This is my special friend Noah.”