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“I think you’re confused. Queenie’s dating Ryan Kingston, the goalie.” Stevie holds her hands up like she’s trying to ward off a wild animal. Or perform an exorcism.
Speaking of King, I spot him pushing his way through the crowd, trying to get to me. Which is not what I want at all. In fact, it’s the very last thing I want to happen. I was supposed to have had time to tell him tonight. When we were back at his place and all our friends and a whole bunch of strangers weren’t around to witness it.
“Does he know you’re married to my fiancé?” Sissy continues to scream at ungodly volume.
Kingston is right behind her now, and, based on his confused expression, he definitely heard her, as did everyone else within a fifty-foot radius.
“I hope he dumps your stupid ass! You better give Corey that divorce or I will kick your skinny ass right after I’ve had this baby! He’s spent more than a hundred thousand dollars on our wedding already, and we have all sorts of famous people coming, so you better not fuck this up for me. And you can’t have any of his money either. That’s for our baby!”
There are too many people looking at us. My face feels like it’s on fire, and I’m sweating. I raise my hands in submission. “Look, I understand that you’re upset, but there’s been a misunderstanding. Can we go somewhere else to talk about this? In private?”
“Absolutely not! Everyone should know you’re a lying, cheating slut! He told me you’re the one who took off on him. You’ve been cheating on him for years!” she sneers. “And I exposed you for the money-grubbing fraud you are.” She holds her phone up in front of my face.
I can’t hear what’s playing on the screen, but the caption “Wedding Dreams Crushed by Vengeful Estranged Soon-to-Be Ex-Wife” says it all. It’s one of those horrible tabloid-style media sites, but it’s still out there, for everyone to watch. And Sissy is an overdramatic nightmare, so it will definitely garner attention.
“Sissy, baby, what’re you doing?” Corey comes barreling through the crowd, pushing people out of the way.
She whirls around. “Fixing the problem, since you won’t! I told her she needs to give you the divorce so she doesn’t ruin my wedding.”
Corey looks like his head is going to explode. I sincerely hope he falls into the dump truck of bullshit he’s thrown at me with this freak show.
Kingston reaches around Sissy for me and brushes her shoulder in the process.
Sissy smacks his arm and whirls around, shoving her finger in his face. “Do not manhandle me! I’m pregnant!” As if we couldn’t tell with the disco ball–style sequined dress she’s wearing. Which is totally not reasonable for a hockey game, or even a New Year’s party in Vegas.
She looks over her shoulder at Corey, who seems like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Are you going to let him put his hands on me like that?”
All hell breaks loose—not that it wasn’t loose already, but it’s suddenly that much worse when Corey tries to come at Kingston. Bishop gets in the way, and Sissy starts slapping him. It gives Kingston the opening he needs to pull me out of there.
“Just go.” Bishop tips his chin up. He’s holding Corey at arm’s length while Sissy continues to swat at him.
She suddenly stops and grabs her belly. “Oh! Something’s happening in there! If I go into labor early I’m suing you!” she screams at me.
Kingston wraps his arm around my waist and lifts me up so my feet aren’t touching the ground anymore and carries me out of the bar.
“You can put me down now,” I say when we’re halfway down the street, heading in the direction of the arena.
He doesn’t respond, just continues to carry me like a child, across the street and to the private lot where the players park. Even when we reach his car, he doesn’t put me down. Or speak. Which is starting to worry me. As is the way his jaw keeps ticcing. He unlocks the car, opens the door, and deposits me in the passenger seat. I jump when he closes it rather firmly. He stalks around the front of the car and gets in the driver’s side.
But once he’s in the car, he doesn’t make a move to buckle up, or check all the mirrors, or turn the engine over. He’s breathing heavily, and he grips the steering wheel, knuckles almost white.
“Kingston?”
“Is it true?” His voice is thick.
“Yes. But it’s not what you think.”
He closes his eyes, and his hands flex on the wheel. Prying one free, he rubs his chin, and when he turns his gaze on me, I feel like I’m looking at a stranger. “You’re married. I’ve committed adultery with you. Repeatedly.” It makes sense that this is where his mind has gone. Kingston is unfailingly loyal. He’s also very much about following rules, doing the right thing, and being a good person.
