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Sophie finishes up her declaration by taking another shot while Dani gets to her feet beside her. “Fuck, yeah,” she exclaims as she fist-pumps the sky.
Miller and the rest of the guys sit in stunned silence as they stare at our girls.
“Are you done, babe?” I ask.
Her fuming eyes turn on me, and the anger instantly dissipates. “Yes, I think I am,” she tells me with a grin, turning to Dani with a gleam in her eye that could only be one of mischief. She grabs Dani by the hand and disappears from the room, taking the bottle of tequila with them.
“Ahh, shit,” Miller murmurs. “It’s going to be a messy night.”
“Got that right,” I say. “But as much as it goes against everything I know to sit back and watch Sophie annihilate herself, I know she needs it.”
“True,” he says. “But if they somehow get themselves arrested again, I’m going to bail them out. There’s no way in hell I’m missing that shit again.”
“Deal,” I smirk.
I sit among the boys, and as expected, the conversation quickly turns to hockey.
An hour later, after not hearing a word from the girls, I decide to go check on them to make sure they haven’t passed out in a pile of their own vomit.
I follow the sound of giggling and snorts coming from our home office and then round the corner to find both Sophie and Dani sitting on the floor, looking at Sophie’s laptop while they listen to what sounds like the conversation the boys and I were having in the living room.
I lean against the door frame and look down on them with a smirk, watching as they continue on with whatever the fuck it is they’re doing, having no clue that I’m here.
After they each take another swig from the bottle of tequila, I make my presence known by clearing my throat, and they both look up as their faces drain of color. I raise a questioning brow at my wife. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Nothing,” she grins as she fumbles around, trying to close her laptop.
Dani bursts into laughter and is suddenly rolling around on the floor, unable to control herself before she slaps a hand between her legs. “Fuck, I’m going to piss myself,” she laughs, which sets off Sophie.
Once the girls have themselves under control, I look down at my wife. “Did you bug our living room with your new spyware?” I ask.
She squishes her lips together as hard as humanly possible as she tries not to smile. “Nope,” she lies. I give her a stare as I wait for her to come clean. “Fine,” she admits as she crawls across the room and grabs a little device off her desk before dropping it and losing it in the carpet. “I had to make sure these little guys actually worked,” she explains.
“Fair enough,” I laugh. “What about your laptop?”
She gives me yet another guilty smirk. “Well, I, umm . . . Don’t be mad, but I’ve kind of been learning how to hack into other people’s computers.”
“What?” I grunt.
A massive grin takes over her face. “I’m in Crazy Jill’s computer right now,” she tells me as she opens her laptop and turns it to show me.
“Shit, seriously?” I ask, pretty damn impressed with my wife’s newest skills. I walk into the office and sit at Sophie’s desk while I take the laptop out of her hands and start looking.
“Yeah. She really is crazy obsessed with you,” Sophie says. “I looked up her browser history and she has been searching for the Tank Meyers sex tape for weeks,” she laughs.
I can’t help but grin at that. I mean, it’s not like Sophie and I haven’t got a sex tape. We actually have quite a few to be honest, but there’s no way in hell we’re letting that shit go public. Seeing my wife like that is just for me.
I click into her gallery and find nearly every photo is of me. It’s not just photos of me that the media have taken, though they’re certainly here too. The photos are ones that she’s personally taken of me—and not just at games either. There are some of me training in the gym, some where I’m grocery shopping with Soph, there are ones from my few hours of sitting in the airport waiting for my flight to get to Denver, but more importantly, there’s one of me sitting by Sophie’s bedside in the hospital with my head in my hands as I waited for her to wake from surgery.
My gaze automatically falls to Sophie on the screen, taking in the state Baxter left her in with her half-deflated stomach. The very day our son was taken from us.
Seeing the photo infuriates me. That was a private moment not intended for a single soul to have witnessed, and now this crazy bitch has it documented for the world to see. “Can you delete this shit?” I ask Sophie.
