Page 24 of The Fake WIfe Playbook

And my cock is sore as fuck.

Damn. She was amazing.

It’s like I went around the world a few times, on her, in her, over her…I still remember how soft her skin was, and how she moaned my name.

She liked it when I talked dirty to her.

And now? I’m on a plane, flying at high altitude, when what I really need is an IV.

And her.

I hear champagne pop and bottles are passed around.

What the hell? I grab one. I’m helpless until I obtain cell phone reception, so until then, I have a few hours to kill.

We’re in the air, where every minute moves at a glacial pace. Fuck me, I still have hours to go until we land in Maine.

The guys are still riding high on having the Stanley Cup in their presence and the wave of euphoria that comes with being written into history.

Hell, it’s still sinking in. It’s our childhood dreams coming true.

Then, the plane’s vibe changes because all of a sudden, it’s quiet—too quiet. The kind of calm before one is iced in the locker room.

Kal’s standing in the aisle. He grins at me like he has a secret.

His face is of mischief.

“Morning, …husband?”

The rest of the guys erupt in laughter.

“You dog!” Alexandre adds, slapping my shoulder.

“Did youseriouslyget married? Who was she—Britney Vegas? Celine Dion’s evil twin?”

“Bro, tell me she’s hot,” Blake says.

“Please tell me there was debauchery involved,” Kal says, holding out his phone with a paused video titledFinn's Wedding Night?!?

I slump into my seat. “I don’t even know hername.”

That earns me another round of howling.

Kal lifts my hand, inspecting the ring. “Well, well, Finn Callahan. You didn’t just hook up, you went fullrom-com blackout. This is next-level hangover-level shit.”

I groan and run my hand over my face. “She said she sings. That’s all I remember. Her name is Kate. That’s all I know.”

Dead silence.

Then Kal bursts out laughing again. “Heavenleigh was on the wedding certificate. Oh, my god. You married a Vegas stripper!”

“No, she’s not a stripper,” I spat at him.

Then, I’m filled with dread. Oh, my God, I hope she’s not a stripper. She can’t be a stripper, can she? She’s too sweet, and she’s genuine.

“According to the media, she’s a country singer, Heavenleigh Kate Riggs,” Luc says.

Fuck me.