Prologue #2
“But… but… why, Austen? I’m on your team.
I support you. I’ve always been there for you, ever since you were skating in major juniors.
I help you with your endorsement deals, your PR.
I cook your dinner and carefully follow your nutrition plan while making everything tasty.
I’m supposed to be the mother of your children. ” My voice sounds screechy.
“You said you loved me. You said you wanted a life together. I never pressured you for marriage. I signed a prenup. I never take your money. I pay for my way on all our trips.” I hold up my left hand.
“This diamond isn’t even real. I know because I logged that receipt for you when I did your taxes. ”
I am not a pretty crier. Even through the veil, everyone can see my splotchy cheeks, the snot on my nose.
The groomsmen look like they want to melt into the floor and die.
“Mouse, stop, you’re embarrassing yourself.” Austen’s voice is lofty. “I know this isn’t ideal, but I can’t keep living a lie anymore. It’s affecting my playing.”
“You already have eighty points this season. I’d hate to see you if this is you not on your game,” one of the defensemen jokes awkwardly.
“We’re supposed to get married, Austen.” I fall to my knees in front of him. “This is the start of the rest of my life. My real life. I can forgive you—” I grab at his sports coat as he tries to bat me off. “I can forgive this. Just please, please marry me.”
“You two aren’t getting married, Misty.” Brielle’s voice is sharp, then she softens her tone. “He doesn’t love you—he never loved you. He only ever loved me.”
The humiliation sets in. Hot embarrassment creeps into my cheeks, crawls along my skin as I stand up, unsteady. I’m nauseous, sweaty. Heavy makeup runs down my face as tears that I can’t stop leak out.
“I hate to hurt you, Misty, and I’m so sorry. We’re so sorry.” Brielle turns her big doe eyes on me, takes Austen’s hand.
He holds her hand to his mouth and gives her fingers a slow, lingering kiss.
“Can you please forgive us? It is Christmas, after all.” Brielle flutters her lashes at me, but the small smirk on her mouth lets me know she thinks she’s about to win. “We can put all this behind us and enjoy the party. All our family is here.”
Correction: all her family. Both on my stepsiblings’ side and now on Austen’s side. Not to mention, as soon as Austen proposes to her, Brielle’s going to be the newest NHL captain’s wife. All these hockey people here? They’re her family now too. And I have no one.
“Austen,” I plead.
He sighs, annoyed, like I’m the one being difficult. Like this is my fault.
“Sienna was right about you.” My chest is heaving, and not in an attractive romance-heroine way. I’m breathing hard, like I’m back on the ice playing college hockey about to beat the shit out of some girl who illegally checked my teammate.
My fists clench.
I want to throw my flowers down on the ground and scream at my stepsister.
“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Granny Keagan hollers.
Phone cameras roll. The demise of my future is going to be blazed all over social media in an hour, catching on like wildfire as people, already tired of being around family for the holidays, seek out any distraction to watch and share and comment all over it.
My mom is glaring at me, nostrils flared. She doesn’t even have to say it—
Don’t you dare…
“Stand up for yourself!” Sienna snaps at me over the surprised chatter of the crowd and Brielle’s crocodile tears. “Stop being a people pleaser for a change.”
I take a step forward. I’m steadier in my tennis shoes than Brielle is on her stilettos.
For a second, for once in her life, my stepsister actually looks scared of me, actually looks worried that I’m not going to let her get away with her lying and manipulation.
“Please forgive me, Misty.” There’s a slight panicked edge to my stepsister’s voice.
“You spent a lot of money on that nose. Shame if someone breaks it,” Sienna threatens.
My stepfather is visibly horrified. He was an NHL captain for twenty years. He knows what it looks like when shit’s about to go down.
“Brielle.” He stands up, like he’s about to get between us. “This is beyond…” Ryan shakes his head. “You couldn’t just have…” He makes a helpless gesture.
“Daddy,” Brielle whines to my stepfather, “tell her to forgive me.” She pouts at him, literally pokes her lower lip out and looks up from under her eyelashes, and pouts like a five-year-old.
And just like that, he crumbles.
She’s his little girl.
I’m the interloper, the unwanted box of crap that came with my mom.
“Misty.” He turns to me. “Your sister did say she was sorry. I know she means it. It is Christmas after all. I’ll make it up to you, kiddo,” he whispers, giving me a pleading smile.
My mom isn’t offering any bribes. She’s mouthing, Do it. You better do it.
I unclench my fists. I can’t make him look bad after all he’s done for my mom. For me.
I pull my veil back.
Sienna hisses at me. “Cunt-punt that bitch.”
I won’t. She knows it. I know it. Brielle definitely knows it. Because I’d rather be liked, rather be wanted, than have self-respect.
“I’m so sorry,” Brielle repeats, smirking.
“It’s…” I twist the bouquet in my hands. “It’s fine.”
“You forgive me and Austen?” Brielle grabs my hand. “Say you forgive me.”
Say it, my mother silently commands.
“I forgive you. It is Christmas, after all.” I choke on the words.
My head’s pounding. I shouldn’t have skipped breakfast, shouldn’t have worried so much about how my belly would look in my wedding dress.
My stepfather breathes a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging then straightening.
My mom gives me a proud, beaming smile and mouths, Thank you.
“Sorry, kiddo.” My stepdad pats me on the shoulder as all the WAGs gather around Brielle.
She shoves between me and her father, and he wraps his daughter in a hug.
“Oh my gosh, you’re so brave.” The WAGs flutter around her, petting her hair, dabbing at her tears.
“I’m so proud of you for speaking your truth.”
“This is going to be good for you two. It’s good to get things out in the open.”
“Now you can come to the ladies’ weekend the Boston Harbor Hawks are hosting in January!” they squeal.
“It will be so much more fun with you there.”
“Baby.” Austen gazes down at Brielle in wonder. “You were so amazing.”
Brielle is triumphant as Austen leans in to kiss her.
Not knowing what else to do, the confused crowd slowly claps.
“Since you’re free over Christmas now, Misty,” my stepsister purrs as she runs her hand possessively over Austen’s chest, “Fallon needs you to dog sit over Christmas. I told her you’d be happy to. I know how much you love dogs.”
I just nod numbly.
Even my corgi is side-eyeing me.
The organist strikes up the wedding march.
“Oh, hell no!” Sienna declares. “You don’t get to steal her man and her wedding. Go plan your own goddamn wedding.”
“I’m not marrying Brielle today.” Austen scowls at Sienna.
“Oh, gosh no,” Brielle breathes. “We have to have a nice wedding.”
“I want to do it right with you, really get to know you.” Austen’s gazing down at her.
He never did look at me that way, did he?
“Let me take you to brunch tomorrow.”
“Brunch. The breakfast of cheaters.” Granny Keagan throws her bouquet on the floor.
Three hours later, I’m alone in the country club in the dark, only the light of a Christmas tree casting shadows across my dress. I sit at a window, watching Brielle, Austen, and my wedding guests have a snowball fight in their fancy clothes while my photographer takes pictures.
“There you are!” Sienna rushes over with a plate of my reception food. “I also rescued the top of your wedding cake too.” She shoves a platter at me. “Chocolate! Your fav!”
“I should have known.” I ignore the food, stare out the window at the happy scene.
Brielle shrieks as my ex-fiancé, the love of my life, my soulmate, picks her up and swings her around in the softly falling snow while my mom and stepfather gaze on with lovey-dovey looks in their eyes.
It’s like it never happened, like everyone knew I wasn’t good enough for Austen and they were just waiting for me to figure it out and stop ruining the holiday.
“Austen’s not good enough for you. He’s going to get his. It’s karma. You’ll see.”
“He won’t.” I rest my face on my dress, ignoring the forkful of crab cake Sienna’s trying to force at me.
“Girls like me never get what they want for Christmas.”