Page 52 of Season's Schemings
I mean, it’s notnotthe truth.
Jax’s face paints a picture of a thousand words—none of them nice ones—but he only utters a single syllable: “Why?”
I shrug. “After all the crap that happened with Adam, moving on and leveling up with a pro hockey hubby seemed like a good option.”
My brother’s gray eyes narrow to slits. “So, what you’re actually saying is that you gotmarriedto get back at Adam.”
“Umm… not no?”
His dark, slanted brows fly up his forehead. “Maddie, in all the absolute…”
What follows is a string of entirely unfestive four-letter curses, interspersed with words like “idiotic,” “ridiculous,” “harebrained,” and—my personal favorite—“preposterous.”
Big word for the grizzly barman.
But clearly, he has never tried Revenge Marriage (trademark pending). Which is a shame, because I ten out of ten recommend it. It’s very soothing for the jilted romantic’s soul.
I yank my arm out of his grip so that I can cross my arms over my chest. “What’s preposterous is that you actually give a damn why I got married. You don’t even believe in marriage. Or love. So why do you even care why I chose to do this?”
His face softens, his slate eyes lightening a touch.
“Because I loveyou, silly,” he says on an exhale. “I care aboutyourhappiness. And you believe in love so much that it’s to your detriment sometimes, I think. Therefore, the thought of you being married for anythingbutlove makes me upset for you. Especially with a hockey player who’s known for his commitment to nothing and nobody but hockey itself.”
“Jax,” I say confidently, grabbing his hand. “Put aside all of your feelings about love, marriage, and what you’ve read about Seb. The question is, do you trust me?”
“Of course. I just worry about you.”
I shake my head. “Well, don’t. I’m happier than I’ve been in a long time.”
This, at least, is the full truth.
Jax closes his eyes. Breathes in slowly through his nose and out again. “Fine. But tell me, is he being good to you?”
A smile splits my face. “Honestly, he’s the best. He treats mewaybetter than Adam ever did.”
“Good. Because while I will choose to back down and support you in this madness for now, I also have no problem stabbing Sebastian Slater with his own hockey stick if he hurts you. Understand?”
I laugh. “Relax, Michael Myers. Seb is one of the good ones. You’ll see.”
And with that, I steer my brother out of the bathroom and shut the door in his face.
* * *
By the time I exit the bathroom—hair straightened and breath fresh as could be—my “I woke up this sexy” plan is foiled. Because the bed is Seb-less.
Which I totally blame Jax for, by the way.
I get dressed in a cute pair of leggings and an oversized cream-and-black fleece sweater with a zipper. Very cabin chic, I think.
I’m feeling pleased with my choice until I bounce downstairs and the first thing I see is Elizabeth leaning against the kitchen counter looking all svelte-like and catalog-modelly, dressed in one of those all-in-one ski suits with a belted waist and fur-lined hood. It’s a mauve color that looks great on her, but would probably make me look like I have cholera.
Her shiny black hair is French-braided and she’s wearing the perfect amount of makeup to emphasize her natural beauty while avoiding the freshly-scrubbed and pink look my complexion is currently sporting.
“Maddie.” She gives me a tight smile. “You’re finally up. We were just talking about today’s plan.”
As she says this, she gestures to the long, elegant dining table where Mr. and Mrs. Plumlee, Dot, my mom and stepdad, Adam, Jax, and Seb are currently sitting. There’s a spread of croissants, preserves, Danish pastries, juices, and cut-up fruit laid out in front of them.
Great. Of course I’m the last person down to breakfast. Seb must’ve located the other bathroom at the far end of the hall, because he looks freshly-showered and, quite frankly, delicious, in a diesel-blue beanie hat and black Patagonia fleece.