Chapter Six
SCOTTIE
I've been to a lot of weddings in my life.
My cousin Sophie's elaborate wedding in Texas with two hundred guests and a live band. My buddy from college got married on a beach in Mexico. A teammate from another team got married last year. Then Aleksi and Kendall’s last week on the ice, which was beautiful and emotional and made half the stadium cry.
But standing on this rooftop in downtown Seattle, watching Juliet and the girls put the final touches on what can only be described as a miracle of event planning, I realize that this isn’t just any wedding… it’s mine.
…Even if it's fake.
"Stop fidgeting," Luka says, adjusting my tie for the third time.
"I'm not fidgeting."
"You've checked your phone six times in the last ten minutes."
"I'm just—" I shove my phone back in my pocket. "Making sure… we’re not running late."
"Everything's ready on time. Stop freaking out; you’re making me uncomfortable, like you’re about to make a run for it.”
“I'm not going to make a run for it. I gave you my word that I would do this… so I’m doing it.”
“Good, because Juliet's been planning this for thirty-six hours straight. If she can pull off a championship afterparty in four hours, she can handle a small wedding."
"Small?" I gesture at the surrounding rooftop
White flowers everywhere—tulips, peonies, something else that I swear doesn’t bloom this time of year, but I’m not about to ask questions.
As long as Katerina loves it, then that’s enough for me.
String lights crisscross overhead, even though it's only three in the afternoon.
A simple arch overlooking the Seattle skyline, draped in more flowers and gauzy white fabric.
There are maybe thirty chairs set up—just the team, the WAGs, and one of Katerina's ballet friends who flew in this morning.
I stare back at the camera at the very end of the aisle. It’s recording. More evidence if we need it, but more importantly, to send to my mom. I might be a shitty son who didn’t invite her to my wedding, but I’m not a total monster. At least I’m recording it for her.
"I can't believe you pulled this off," I mutter.
"I didn't. Juliet did." Luka straightens my boutonniere—a single white tulip. "You look good, by the way."
"Thanks." I tug at my collar. "I feel like I'm going to throw up."
"I’ve never been a groom before, but I think that's normal."
"Is it?"
"Probably." He claps my shoulder. "You ready for this?"
"No," I say. “But I’m here.”
"Good. That’s all you need to be. It’s all temporary anyway. You’ll be a free man before you know it."
Before I can answer, Juliet appears out of nowhere with a clipboard in hand, headset on, looking like a tiny general ready to march into battle in full sequins and heels.
“Places,” she says, sweeping her hand toward the arch. “Music in thirty seconds. Luka, get your ass back with Katerina. You’re walking her down, and you're the best man. You’re running double duty, remember?”
“Right… shit. I forgot.” Luka runs back down the aisle, and everyone in the small thirty-seat section of friends and Hawkeyes personnel gives a light chuckle.
Thirty seconds.
My stomach flips.
The guys take their places to the side of me, the WAGS already in a line on Katerina’s side, with mismatched dresses but all the same color and small bouquets in their hands.
Hunter pats my back, the next one in line after Luka.
Not in order of importance, just in order of who showed up first to stand up here.
JP whispers, “Don’t pass out.”
“Why the hell would I pass out?” I mutter back.
Aleksi mutters, “I bet Penelope a hundred bucks that you cry.”
My voice cracks. “Jesus, come on… I’m not going to cry.”
“It’s fifty bucks if you tear up.” He adds.
I just gave him a side-eye look and then refocused on the back of the aisle, where Katerina and Luka will be emerging soon.
My heart is thumping so hard against my rib cage, I think it might crack it.
And I have no reason why. Yes, this wedding is technically real; we’re signing papers that link us together under state law, but it’s not real all at the same time.
So why the hell does it feel like it is?
Why does it feel like the pressure to make this work is weighted heavily in my stomach?
Maybe it’s not like me not to give everything one hundred percent. Maybe it’s because so much is riding on Katerina for this to work. Maybe it’s because seeing her in that dress yesterday was the first glimpse of a future I never considered.
I push away that last thought. She and I don’t even know each other. I have no idea what her favorite food is, or if she cries when Bambi’s mother dies in the Disney movies, or if she even likes watching hockey.
I know nothing, except that she doesn’t like roses, per Luka’s warning the night he tricked me into the bet, and I know she grew up wealthy and is one hell of a ballerina. Apart from that, she and I are complete strangers who are about to say I do.
Just then, the music changes and everyone turns.
I follow their gaze.
And the world stops.
She steps into the sunlight—veil trailing behind her like something out of a fairytale, dress soft and flowing around her legs, bouquet of white tulips trembling in her hands.
Her shiny dark chocolate hair pulled back in loose curls behind her, her thick black lashes and setting off her steely blue eyes that I noticed the first time I met her, her pink cheeks and perfect lips that I realize I’m about to get my first taste of… . if Luka doesn’t kill me first.
My breath catches.
I’ve seen beautiful women in my life, sure. They follow us to games, perch up in seats where we can see them. They come to charity events dressed to the nines, or find us in the bar after a game. But this… this is different.
This time, the woman heading toward me is the most striking creation I’ve ever witnessed in a wedding dress, and she’s about to be my wife.
She walks slowly, her arm wrapped around Luka’s, each step measured and graceful, like the ballerina she is.
Her eyes lift—just for a moment—and when they find mine, something hits me, like a lightning bolt, hot and tingling after its effect.
I feel the lingering effects at the ends of my fingertips and my toes.
What the hell was that?
Hunter nudges me. “Breathe, man. I was kidding about passing out. Don’t do that.”
I take a deep inhale, and a lightheaded whoosh hits my brain like I actually had stopped breathing—my brain was starving for oxygen.
Then she reaches the end of the aisle, and Luka hands her off to me with a whisper in Russian that makes her blink fast.
I wish I knew what he had said to her.
Her eyes search mine, cautious but steady.
“Hi,” I whisper.
Her red-painted lips curve just slightly. “Hi.”
Coach Haynes clears his voice. I asked him to be the officiant, so he went online to get certified. It took him a day, which seems crazy, to marry two people together, but here we are.
I tune out most of what he says as he welcomes the guests and gives a small introduction. I ignore everything until before I know it, I’m repeating after him.
My voice feels small and more timid than it ever has before as I utter the words that should be temporary, but they feel as concrete as anything I’ve ever promised anyone in my life.
Maybe because of what all this means for her and because if we don’t pull this off…
if her grandmother doesn’t buy it, then she gets shipped back home to marry someone else.
“To have and to hold… For better or worse… From this day forward…”
The thing that shocks me the most is how much I think I mean the vows I’m saying. That can’t be right, can it? But it feels true.
When it’s her turn, the wind on the top of the rooftop blows just a little harder; her veil blows delicately in the wind. Something is changing, and I feel it.
I feel it before she even speaks—the tiny tremble in her breath, the way her slender fingers tighten just slightly around mine, the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she gathers herself for her next words to me.
We don't know each other, and yet, somehow, we’re up here making promises to one another as if it’s just us against the world.
Three days… I’ve known about her existence for only three days.
Her lashes lower for half a second, like she’s steadying her courage, like the words matter more than she planned. And then she lifts her chin.
Her eyes meet mine.
The shake in her hand doesn’t match the strength in her gaze, and something hot and protective surges through me so fast I nearly pull her closer.
Then she speaks—not loud or bold, just… true.
“I do.”
Two simple words that said apart mean so little, but said together, under this arch of flowers, with my teammates and friends, and my coach as our officiant, it binds us together.
A vow spoken by a woman who doesn’t lie lightly… the one thing I’ve gathered in our small time together. A vow I’m not sure I deserve from her.
And standing there, watching her say it, hearing the softness, the bravery, and the trust she’s putting in me quietly.
The officiant nods to me, and I take the ring from the little velvet box—the three-and-a-half-carat diamond that cost a ridiculous amount of money for something so small.
I see the moment her eyes widen. It’s obvious she wasn’t expecting me to show up with a diamond wedding ring, but after I saw her in the wedding salon yesterday, I knew she needed something to wear on her finger that symbolized more.
Something real, no matter how fake this marriage is supposed to be.
Maybe I did it to sell the story to her grandmother, maybe I did it so my mother doesn’t hound me next week about not getting my bride something beautiful…
or damn it, maybe I just did it for her. For the sparkle in her eye just now.
I hear her whispers, “Scottie… I wasn’t expecting–” but she doesn’t finish that sentence.
I can feel Luka leaning forward. He was with me yesterday when I stormed past his truck after we left the tux shop—chasing me across three city blocks until I reached the jewelry store I’d spotted on the drive over.
At first, he asked me if I was sure I wanted to do this.
“A silver band would do,” he said, but I could tell he was eyeing the diamond rings too.
Both of us know that Katerina deserves this and that it’s just another piece to prove legitimacy.
My mother would never believe that I bought my bride a metal band. Not a woman who looks like Katerina.
“I wanted you to have something nice,” I say softly, just loud enough for her and Coach Haynes to hear us.
“The one thing that’s real in this whole agreement.
And maybe because I want to make sure that any asshole who sees you perform from the back of the nosebleeds knows he doesn’t have a shot with you. ” I tease.
A glint flashes in her eyes, the first smirk I’ve seen on her face. She knows the score… I’m trying to make this light even though there’s nothing light about a massive engagement ring.
“You’re just some big, dumb, jealous hockey player, aren’t you?” she teases back.
“By the looks of it,” I say, glancing down, watching as I slowly and carefully push the ring onto her perfectly manicured finger, like she’s something fragile and priceless. It fits perfectly. “...I’d say I’m your big, dumb, jealous hockey player.”
She looks at it for a long second, then lifts her eyes to me, and then I see it. It’s the first time she’s ever truly smiled back at me. It’s not forced or for the pictures… this one is real, and it’s just for me.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Then I hand her the ring Luka had been holding for me as well, a thick gold band. She slides it on my finger next.
The feeling of her putting it on my finger. The gentle way her fingers move over mine. The spark of skin to skin.
Yeah… I’m done for.
Completely, utterly ruined.
I might just be willing to take a bullet for this woman.
I’m in so much trouble.