Chapter 8 - Kate
KATE
WHAT THE HELL DID I DO?
“I’ll never forget his face, or this night…” Kate Riggs
I wake up to sunlight. The kind that judges nights of debauchery because it’s not the warm, peaceful kind that makes one want to lie in bed for days. Nope. This is the blinding, you-made-mistakes-in-Vegas kind. It cuts through the hotel curtains like a slap to my face.
My mouth’s dry. My head’s a drum. My legs feel like I danced all night — probably because I did.
And there’s a very tall, muscular man, who is also very naked, in my bed.
Finn.
Still asleep, his arm thrown across my waist like it belongs there.
His dark hair is tousled, and his perfect lips are parted.
The sheets barely covered his tattooed back.
His entire existence is chaos in physical form — and unfortunately, hot chaos.
Like the hottest sex I’ve ever had, not that I’ve had much.
I’ll never forget what it’s like to be with him.
He made me feel like the only woman in the room. I know it’s just a hookup, just one night. But Damn, it was mind-blowing.
I slowly lift his arm and slide out of bed like I’m defusing a bomb. Barefoot, naked, and my heart competes with my head because both are pounding.
I don’t belong here. He’s an athlete, and the last time I got involved with one, it didn’t work out so well. They’re all ego, charisma, and trouble.
I have no intention of dwelling on regrets, so I slip out unnoticed. It was one night. I’ve become a cliché. I’ve had a one-night stand in Vegas.
No problem, right?
And that’s when I see it.
Not the mess of my panties on the floor. Not the magnum of champagne in the sink. Not even my boots tipped sideways by the door.
No.
The ring. On my finger! Big. Bold. Diamond. It can’t be real.
Can it?
I stare at it like maybe I’m hallucinating. My chest drops to my ankles. Maybe it's one of those dumb costume rings from a bachelorette party.
But it’s heavy. And it fits perfectly.
And it’s on my left hand.
Holy. Hell.
I glance at my phone. Holy fuck, I’m running late. I slide off the bed. Wheels up in an hour. I toss on my dress. I grab my boots, my purse, and what’s left of my pride. I can’t be here when he wakes up. I need to meet Shay and then catch the plane.
I turn at the door to take him in for one last time. He’s tall, and his hand is lying where I was a minute ago. His dark curls gently cover his temples. His chin is scruffy, and the morning after look is sexy—too sexy.
His body is toned and incredibly solid. I loved raking my fingers over him.
He’s the kind of solid man a woman wants to lay her head into when she’s upset.
His arms? The best at holding me. And his dick?
Well, it’s enormous. To put it simply, I now understand why hockey players can attract any woman they want.
Their sticks are, well, long, not to mention their thickness.
He’s a famous hockey player who just won the Stanley Cup. I don’t belong with him. He’s at the top of his career. I’m a wanna be famous singer from Pine Hollow. He’s going to wake up, and he’ll be filled with regret.
Besides, I have a plan to catch. This situation appears to be complicated if it’s real.
What were we thinking?
That’s just it. We weren’t thinking. Besides, last night had to be a fake. Maybe it was a prank. I would remember if we got married.
Wouldn’t I?
And the hunk in the bed? God, he was amazing.
I still smell his cologne on my skin. The sex was the kind that I’ll never forget.
He was an attentive lover, making love to every inch of me.
And he went all night. I don’t know how he managed to do that.
He played a hockey game, partied all night, and spent hours fucking me in every position imaginable.
Some were new to me. I blush just thinking about it. I’ve never had a man worship my body like that before.
But if I don’t leave now, I might never leave. And I can’t bear the thought of him leaving me. Men always leave. It’s like it’s in their DNA. So there is zero chance that we’ll ever see each other again.
And I can’t face him because last night was the night to end all nights. We were both elated about our dreams coming true. He won the MPV and the Stanley Cup, and I had a huge concert. We were on top of the world. Invincible.
We were in a place where it was just him, me, and a world of possibilities.
But the hangover wears off when the sun comes up, and I’m left cleaning up the night of bad decisions.
The funny thing? I don’t regret last night. I want to preserve the fantastic moments of it. It was one night, a fantasy that came true. And I was lucky enough to experience it once.
But that’s all it was—one perfect night. I doubt I’ll ever see him again.
Now, it’s back to reality. My reality. And I have a plane to catch.
Private Jet, Thirty Minutes Later
Shay’s buckling herself in beside me, looking concerned and slightly hungover.
"You okay? You’re pale. Like—ghost of Christmas bad decisions kinda pale. You said not to worry about you last night. I assume you were with the hockey God.”
I flash my hand in front of her face.
She squints. Then gasps.
“Oh, My God!” Her eyes looked as big as Jupiter and were spinning. No, strike that, turning in double time. “Kate. Is that—”
“Yup.”
“IS IT REAL?!”
“I don’t know!”
She grabs my hand and examines it like she's on some CSI Vegas spinoff. “That is not from Claire’s. That thing has weight. That thing has insurance. Oh my God, I hope it’s insured!”
“I think I got married last night.”
“To the hockey player?”
“Of course! Who else? The terrible thing is, I don’t even remember saying yes.”
She blinks at the ring again, then she stares at me. Then whispers, “...You know, maybe you should stay away from tequila.”
I lean against the weathered seat and stare at the sparkler on my finger. The ring glitters in the daylight, and my heart is in my throat. How could I be so reckless?
I don’t know what happened. I don’t know how bad it is. And I don’t know what I’m going to do about Finn. What does he think of me?
What can a man possibly think except that I was easy?
I refuse to become my mother. I just permitted myself to let loose for one night. I might not know much, but I know one thing for sure. Vegas never lets you leave empty-handed.
I walked away with what looks like a real diamond, and a husband, and I need to return both.
Shay is browsing the internet before the plane takes off.
Then, panic sets in.
Why would Finn marry me? Why did he buy this overpriced ring? What the hell was he thinking?
That’s just it. We weren’t thinking.
I can’t remember shit. Damn that tequila.
Tequila not only makes my clothes come off, but apparently, I make terrible decisions.
Mental math gets fuzzy when you’re tipsy and he’s carved like a statue that charges by the hour.
His smile was a sin in progress—hot enough to melt resolve and burn the rulebook.
“He’ll want an annulment,” I say.
“You don’t know that,” Shay counters.
“Why would he want me? He can have anyone.”
“I saw how you two were dancing, and it looked like you were both taken with each other. I mean, is it so terrible? To marry someone you can’t keep your hands off of? There was no light between your bodies on the dance floor. And, he can dance, that’s a plus in my book. How was he, by the way?”
She turns to me, and she can’t help but grin, anticipating the details.
“The most incredible night of my life,” I breathe out in a whoosh. I didn’t even have to think about it— it just rolled off my tongue. Then, I cover my face with my hands. “What will my mother think?”
“Your mother’s gonna love him. He’s handsome and loaded. What more do you need?” she snarks.
“Oh, she’ll love his bank account,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
“Fair,” she says. “And the diamond on your finger. But he married you. By the way, did you leave a note or just skip out?”
I give her a side-eye. Like, does she really need me to answer that?
“Right. You ran. I swear you run faster than anyone I know.”
“You don’t know that many people,” I snark.
“True, but still. He didn’t do anything wrong, did he?”
“No. The problem is, he did everything right—exceptional,” I breathe the last word as if my next breath depends on it.
“You ditched a perfectly good candidate without so much as a ‘see you later’ or a ‘I’ll call you.’”
“Yeah,” I half-whine.
“The media will have a field day,” she mutters, clicking on her phone again.
“I doubt anyone will know. We’ll just get an annulment.”
“Yeah, like two people splitting up goes really smooth,” she says, deadpan.
“Oh, well, I doubt he wants to be married to me. So, there’s that.”
“That’s what you’re hoping for, huh? You skipped out so you could avoid dealing with your emotions, didn’t you? What if he won’t give it to you?”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t get to that. I think I need a drink,” I say.
“You want the dog that bit you or something non-alcoholic?” She chuckles. “We don’t want you marrying the next hottie who walks by.”
I chuckle despite myself. “I don’t know. I’m so overwhelmed, but water is the safest bet, unless everyone on the plane is getting pregnant on it.”
Shay bursts out laughing, and I chuckle with her. Thank goodness that’s one thing I don’t have to worry about.
“Maybe this whole sordid affair is just a blip—and it'll all blow over in a few days,” I say, pulling out my leather-bound journal and jotting down some lines on my mind. I owe my label six songs before Christmas.
“Yeah, let’s see how that goes,” she mutters.
We spent the flight quietly conversing, sans phones, because we’re in the air, and I suppose that’s a good thing.
My brain’s fried. My stomach’s still doing tequila cartwheels. And when we arrive back in Tennessee, everything’s different. I don’t know why, it just is.
I’ve been sitting cross-legged on the floor of my apartment for an hour, my journal in my lap, a half-written song lyric under my pen. But I can’t finish it. Not when my hand keeps catching the light. The ring is mocking me—the ring.
It’s big, bold. It makes a statement, but I don’t know what it is. Is it, “She’s mine,” “I have tons of money,” or was it a mistake?
It’s beautiful. Too beautiful for a girl like me.
And I don’t remember a wedding.
I remember dancing, his award-winning smile, and how his long fingers caressed my body. He has the cutest dimple in his cheek. I remember shots, music, heat, and a laugh that felt like it cracked my ribs from the inside out.
But after that?
Blank.
I touch the diamond, like maybe it’ll tell me the story. Perhaps it will whisper the truth back to me like a scene from a movie. But it doesn’t. It just sparkles and taunts me.
Shay yells something about caffeine and Jesus and crime shows from the kitchen, and I barely register it—until her voice gets sharper.
“Kate!”
Oh god. What now?
She bursts into my room holding her MacBook like she’s delivering a court summons.
Her eyes are enormous, like they’re popping out of her head. Her ponytail is crooked. She looks as if she’s priming herself for Halloween.
“You need to see this.”
“No, I really don’t.”
“You really do.” She slaps the laptop down in front of me and hits play.
The video’s grainy—shot on a phone, probably from across the room — but there we are. Elvis is in the picture. Elvis?
Then I focus on the couple.
Me and him.
I’m in that fire-engine red minidress. He’s in those painted-on jeans. His arms were around my waist. My hands are in his hair. And we’re making out like we invented kissing.
The caption reads: “Stanley Cup Champion Finn Callahan and mystery girl GOING FOR GOLD #vegas #nhlchamp #whoisshe”
The comments are even worse.
“Damn she fine tho ”
“Wife???”
“Please let this be a fairytale in real time.”
“THE CUP IS RIGHT THERE brO.”
“That is a kiss. She’s not leaving Vegas without a ring… OH WAIT.”
Shay doesn’t say anything. She just sits there, quietly, like a stalker, and just watches me watching it.
My cheeks are on fire. My stomach’s in my socks. My fingers go to the ring again without thinking.
“Oh my god,” I whisper. “I married him.”
Shay lets out a strangled sound. “You don’t remember?”
“Nope.”
“Like, at all?”
“Not even a flash.”
She slaps a hand over her mouth to hide a cackle and fails miserably.
“Kate. You married a hockey player in Vegas, and now you’re trending. This is horrific. I’m so proud of you.” She straightens and chortles.
I groan, dropping the notebook. I bury my face in the throw pillow closest to me.
“What do I even do?”
Shay’s still typing, her eyes darting across the screen. “Honestly? Hope he doesn’t remember either and get it annulled quickly.” She pauses. Then she glances back at the screen, and her eyes go wide.
“...Oh, damn,” she says slowly. “You should probably know he’s already looking for you. You’re trending. It looks like everyone has figured out who the mystery bride is.”