Page 55 of The Fake WIfe Playbook

Kate gives me a side-eye, snaps a picture to commemorate the moment, and then I join her. I slide my arm around her waist and kiss her into submission. We walk to the car with bystanders slapping me on the back, chanting “Maulers.”

And then we do something crazy simple. We go to the local rink for a victory lap. Kate’s never been on skates. She struggles to stand, but once she gets a few strides in, she’s pretty good.

The Cup is heavy—all that silver, and the weight of men who’ve traveled this road before us. It’s too heavy for Kate, and she’s new to ice skating, so there’s no way she’s carrying this heavy cup.

I skate slowly, carrying the Cup like it’s senior prom. Kate tries to zoom past me and falls on her ass. I can’t help but laugh. So does she. I think I’m in love. I’m so happy I’m a brick short of hysterical.

It’s late afternoon, and the kids begin to show up at the rink. They immediately spot me, not like I’m all that, but the Cup has a way of garnering attention. The kids excitedly race to tell their friends, and they gawk and take pictures before hurrying to the locker rooms to change.

They emerge minutes later, in too-big jerseys, helmets wobbling, each wearing dreams bigger than their skates. We bring the Cup to the perimeter of the ice, and chaos erupts. They clamor around us, and the smiles on their faces? It’s priceless.

We exit the ice with them, and they hoot and holler. Then the stampede ensues.

I’ve never seen Kate with kids before today, and all I can say is thatI’m blown away. She kneels on the concrete floor and speaks to them in a calm voice. They lean in, wide-eyed, and hanging on every word. Astonishingly, no one shouts or shoves.

They wait, practically holding their breath, as I gently lift the Cup and plant it between them.

“You can touch it.” She says as she touches the silver. “One at a time, okay? Everyone will get a turn.” A little boy with jelly on his chin nods solemnly, his fingers hovering inches away. Behind them, parents squeeze closer, phones raised, the shutters click like applause.

I snap pictures of her with the kids. It’s as if I’m the official team photographer. One of the kids points at the Cup and goes,“Is that the real one?”

I kneel and look her dead in the eye.

“Yup. But he only shows up for those who have earned it. It’s a long shot, but I dreamed of holding it when I was about your age.”

Kate watches me, and her eyes are full of emotion. I’m sure she had a dream of being a singer, and she knows what it’s like when your dream comes true. We have a moment, our souls are barred, and we’ve become one. It’s a moment that doesn’t need words, and it’s everything.

I swallow hard, filled with feelings I can’t name, and then I skate back to the ice, and leave the Cup in the middle of the ice with the kids, and hop up next to Kate, who’s resting in the bleachers. She grabs my hand and holds it in her lap like it’s made of glass.

“You okay?” I ask.

She shrugs. “You’re kinda ridiculous,” she smirks, breaking the serious mood.

“Thanks.”

“Also, I didn’t know you had a soft side.”

“I don’t,” I say. “That’s a lie invented by my publicist.”

But she keeps looking at me like I’ve just shifted dimensions. Like I’m a superhero, and today, maybe I am. Because for a second, I’m not Finn the hockey player, or Finn the MVP, or Finn the guy trying to one-up Mikael in bathroom selfies.

It’s just me and Kate, two newlyweds, and we’re bonding.

I lean over and kiss her. It’s a soft kiss, but it deepens until we’re interrupted.

“Finn, can we get a picture of you?” I look at the kid on the other side of the wall.

“You want a picture of me?” I ask.

“Yeah, would you?”

“Sure thing!” I reply, giving Kate a wink, and join him on the ice. His eyes are the size of dinner plates as he looks at me, then he touches the Cup.

“This is so cool,” he says. Then, the other kids skate in for a team picture.

One kid cries—a good cry.

Kate’s eyes mist as if she’ll share in their happy tears, but she manages to hold it together.