Page 33

It’s the same message she sends me every Monday. Well, the good morning part, followed by an affirmation. I immediately feel guilty for not telling her about any of the stuff that’s happened in the last couple of weeks. So far as Mom and Dad are concerned, I’m still engaged to be married, running a highly successful company, and living in a nice pad in New York.

At some point you have to tell them, I think, while also being grateful that Mom and Dad aren’t into social media – probably don’t even know what it is – and therefore haven’t seen the video of their daughter marrying someone who isn’t her fiancé, while dressed as a minion.

Dad

Hi kiddo, I’m thinking of surprising Mom with a visit to New York. Can we make that happen?

I shudder. Truth feels like an imminent attack. Why now? They come to New York maybe once a year! Now is not good for me.

Carl

You married Jax fucking Harris? Are you shitting me? Tell me this is a bogus video, Sienna.

We need to talk. I also need your passcodes to log in to work apps.

I toss the phone into my purse.

“What am I doing here?” I mutter to myself, eyes abruptly stinging as I focus on pushing a red pepper around my plate.

This whole situation is…

A plate is set down on the table next to mine.

“You look like a total nerd sitting over here on your own, wifey.”

Jax. The relief that floods my body is unexpected. Who would have thought that Jax Harris could have a calming effect on me?

“I’m pretty sure it ranks lower on the list of embarrassing moments than marrying hockey’s most valuable playboy,” I gripe, though I don’t feel the bite my words have.

I’m grateful for him sitting with me. Not that he’ll ever know it.

The players he walked in with moments ago now fill the table around me, all with similarly stacked plates of meat and veg.

A quick check of the faces tells me they’re all familiar – Tray, TJ, Suzuki and Zach. They were all in Las Vegas and know the truth. Jax and I don’t have to pretend and that feels like a lifeline right now.

“So how’s your first day going, nerd girl?” Jax asks, instantly zapping my gratitude and reminding me of his immaturity, even if he’s nailed the era of my own flashback.

“It just got much better, thanks, jock slut.” I smile big, as if this isn’t a spiteful conversation.

The guys chuckle, including Jax, which gives me a tiny kick.

I’m momentarily silenced by the sight of him parting thick thighs, beneath training shorts that cling to his quadriceps like film wrap, to take a seat. No need for dessert when I have that view on offer. I cough into my napkin, as if I spoke my feral thoughts aloud.

“No chance of me being a slut since I’ve been cock-blocked by a Haribo ring.”

“Oh please,” I say as the others watch the verbal tennis rally going back and forth between us. “Like three months to recover from all your STIs is going to kill you. Might I remind you that I wouldn’t have to even be near you right now if you hadn’t stolen my lunch.”

He holds out his arms as if to say mi casa, zu casa. Dick. “Honey, you have all this lunch because of me.”

“Ah no, actually, I have this job because of Mitch and Cheska. And you don’t forget that I’m keeping your reputation in check by staying married to you.”

He forks a significant piece of protein and shovels it into his mouth. “I don’t care about my reputation. Let people say I got drunk and married a hot girl.”

I hate the way my heart thuds for too many seconds – he thinks I’m attractive. Who knew I was this superficial? I roll back my shoulders, trying to give my chest cavity more space for a silly, hot boy crush. I’ll chat to my internal organs later. For now…

“You care. Otherwise you would never have hired me in the past and if you don’t care, why am I living in your condo?”

“For the pool, the location, the onsite gym?”