Page 18 of The Fake WIfe Playbook

Besides, I have a plan to catch. This situation appears to be complicated if it’s real.

What were we thinking?

That’s just it. We weren’t thinking. Besides, last night had to be a fake. Maybe it was a prank. I would remember if we got married.

Wouldn’t I?

And the hunk in the bed? God, he was amazing. I still smell his cologne on my skin. The sex was the kind that I’ll never forget. He was an attentive lover, making love to every inch of me. And he went all night. I don’t know how he managed to do that. He played a hockey game, partied all night, and spent hours fucking me in every position imaginable.

Some were new to me. I blush just thinking about it. I’ve never had a man worship my body like that before.

But if I don’t leave now, I might never leave. And I can’t bear the thought of him leaving me. Men always leave. It’s like it’s in their DNA. So there is zero chance that we’ll ever see each other again.

And I can’t face him because last night was the night to end all nights. We were both elated about our dreams coming true. He won the MPV and the Stanley Cup, and I had a huge concert. We were on top of the world. Invincible.

We were in a place where it was just him, me, and a world of possibilities.

But the hangover wears off when the sun comes up, and I’m left cleaning up the night of bad decisions.

The funny thing? I don’t regret last night. I want to preserve the fantastic moments of it. It was one night, a fantasy that came true. And I was lucky enough to experience it once.

But that’s all it was—one perfect night. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.

Now, it’s back to reality. My reality. And I have a plane to catch.

Private Jet, Thirty Minutes Later

Shay’s buckling herself in beside me, looking concerned and slightly hungover.

"You okay? You’re pale. Like—ghost of Christmas bad decisions kinda pale. You said not to worry about you last night. I assume you were with the hockey God.”

I flash my hand in front of her face.

She squints. Then gasps.

“Oh, My God!”Her eyes looked as big as Jupiter and were spinning. No, strike that, turning in double time. “Kate. Is that?—”

“Yup.”

“IS IT REAL?!”

“I don’tknow!”

She grabs my hand and examines it like she's on some CSI Vegas spinoff. “That is not from Claire’s. That thing hasweight. That thing hasinsurance. Oh my God, I hope it’s insured!”

“I think I got married last night.”

“To the hockey player?”

“Of course! Who else? The terrible thing is, I don’t even remembersayingyes.”

She blinks at the ring again, then she stares at me. Then whispers, “...You know, maybe you should stay away from tequila.”

I lean against the weathered seat and stare at the sparkler on my finger. The ring glitters in the daylight, and my heart is in my throat. How could I be so reckless?

I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how bad it is. And I don’t know what I’m going to do about Finn. What does he think of me?

What can a man possibly think except that I waseasy?