“That’s a rhetorical question, right?” Bishop makes an adjustment in his underwear. They always have a ridiculous pattern on them. Tonight it’s a pineapple and olive dancing together. It’s hard not to look at them.

“Uh, just making sure. I think I might have a drink.” I fasten the top button on my shirt and make sure the collar is smooth.

Bishop’s brow quirks. “You all right?”

“Yeah. I’m great, actually. My family’s coming to visit, so Queenie’ll get to meet them, and I told her how I feel about her, and she feels the same, so we’re solid. It’s good. Everything is perfect. I think I might ask her to move in with me. For real this time. Maybe after the holidays. That’s not too soon, is it?”

Bishop holds up a finger, taps his lips a couple of times, and then looks at me like I’m the stupidest person on the face of the earth. “You realize I’m the last person you should ever ask for relationship advice, right? I told the woman I’m married to that her face was a boner killer.”

I cringe, because that’s a horrible thing to say, let alone to the woman who willingly sleeps beside him every night. “That was before you realized who she was, though.”

“Yeah, but the point is, I’m not the person you want to ask for advice. I mean, I’d tell you to pin her the fuck down before she realizes she’s made a mistake, if you were me, but you’re not me. You’re likable and friendly and shit. I’m lucky I’m nice to look at and that I can give my wife multiple orgasms; otherwise I’d be fucked, man.”

“Is that a common thing?”

“Is what a common thing?” Bishop works on tying his tie.

“Multiple orgasms.”

He looks away from his reflection for a moment. “You asking me for pointers in the bedroom?”

“No. Of course not. I know what’s effective with Queenie. I just didn’t realize multiples were that common.” I’m actually a little disappointed. Although I won’t admit that to Bishop, or anyone else. Jessica was always very . . . proper. And basically silent. It didn’t matter how many questions I asked, how much direction I sought, everything was always “fine” or “nice.”

Queenie is the opposite. Which I love. She’ll tell me exactly what she needs and how she needs it. And she seems to really like that I seek direction from her. I can only learn her body if she shares with me what makes her feel the best.

“Can I ask you something without offending you?”

“As long as you’re not disrespecting Queenie, sure.” I tie a windsor knot without looking in a mirror.

“Are you, like, missionary only?”

“Pardon?”

“Positions. Do you have more than one you like?”

I meet my best friend’s questioning gaze and consider how much information I want to give him about my private, personal life. “I can appreciate all views.”

His eyebrows climb into his hairline. “I thought I knew you.”

“You do know me.” I shrug into my suit jacket and check for any lint I missed.

“Queenie’s good for you, though, because this isn’t a conversation we would’ve had a year ago.”

“I’m not being disrespectful.”

He puts his hand on my shoulder. “No, man, but with Jessica there wasn’t ever a conversation, about anything. She was an accessory. Queenie is a partner. She’s the olive to your pineapple.”

“That sounds awful.”

“It’s actually not that bad on pizza, but you need hot peppers, bacon, ham, and pepperoni to balance it all out. The pizza isn’t the point. It’s that you found someone who lights a fire under your ass. It’s a good thing. That’s all I’m saying. And multiples are the fucking bomb.” Bishop makes a fist and approximates a jerking-off motion before he realizes Rook is watching him. “It’s good for everyone.”

“Especially my ego,” I agree.

“Fucking shit!” Corey barks from across the room. He punches at his phone and brings it to his ear. “What in the actual fuck, Sissy? I told you I’d take care of it. What the hell were you thinking?” He screws his eyes shut and exhales heavily through his nose. “This is going to be a nightmare to manage. What? No. Don’t do that!” he snaps, then changes his tone. “Come on, baby, that’s a bad idea. Where are you now? I’ll come get you. We’ll figure out how to fix this.” He pushes up off the bench and stalks out of the locker room.

“I wonder what that was about,” Bishop mutters.

“Sounds like there’s trouble in paradise.” We gather up our things, and Rook falls into step with us.

“If there were two people who deserved each other, it’s Slater and Sissy,” Bishop says. “She’s the perfect nightmare for Corey to end up with.”

“The douche factor and the crazy pair nicely, that’s for sure,” Rook says. “At least she’s not trying to siphon jizz out of used condoms anymore.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I made the mistake of hooking up with her once back in my rookie days, obviously long before I met Lainey,” Rook replies, his expression a mix of embarrassment and regret.

“Oh, man, I remember that! Didn’t she fake a pregnancy? Took pictures on social media and tried to blackmail you or whatever?” Bishop asks.

“That she did. Used the plaster casts from her sister’s baby belly to stage photos.”

“That’s just . . .”

“Certifiable?” Rook supplies.

“Yeah.” I can’t imagine getting involved with someone that unbalanced. It’s why I’d never had a one-night stand until Queenie. It obviously turned out a lot different than either of us expected, but it could’ve gone very badly had she been a Sissy.

We leave the arena and head across the street to the bar we usually meet up at after home games. I decide tonight I’m going to indulge in one of those fun drinks Queenie and I had that first night we met, between the shots. The white russians. Those were tasty.

My phone buzzes in my pocket repeatedly as we enter the loud, hectic bar. I slip it out of my pocket, wanting to send Queenie a message and find out where they’re sitting so we’re not searching the whole place for them.

“What the heck?” Message after message comes in from my family chat. I open the feed and try to make sense of what’s going on, but they’re coming in too fast.

“Oh shit, I think we’ve got some trouble.” Bishop elbows me in the side.

I look up from my phone and follow his gaze across the crowded pub to the bar. Where my girlfriend is being yelled at by Slater’s pregnant fiancée.

CHAPTER 22

BROKEN VOWS

Queenie

I cannot believe this is happening.

Actually, I can. Because my life is one big shitstorm after another, so why wouldn’t I get called out in a bar, in front of my friends, and a bunch of strangers, by a pregnant woman?

“You had your chance, and he doesn’t want you. He wants me.” Sissy, Corey’s lunatic fiancée, points to her chest and then waves her hand around in the air. “You see this diamond? He spent over fifty thousand on this! He told me he didn’t even get you a ring at all, so that shows you exactly how important you were to him. I’m the one who’s having his baby, not you!” she screams.

“I think you’re confused. Queenie’s dating Ryan Kingston, the goalie.” Stevie holds her hands up like she’s trying to ward off a wild animal. Or perform an exorcism.

Speaking of King, I spot him pushing his way through the crowd, trying to get to me. Which is not what I want at all. In fact, it’s the very last thing I want to happen. I was supposed to have had time to tell him tonight. When we were back at his place and all our friends and a whole bunch of strangers weren’t around to witness it.

“Does he know you’re married to my fiancé?” Sissy continues to scream at ungodly volume.

Kingston is right behind her now, and, based on his confused expression, he definitely heard her, as did everyone else within a fifty-foot radius.

“I hope he dumps your stupid ass! You better give Corey that divorce or I will kick your skinny ass right after I’ve had this baby! He’s spent more than a hundred thousand dollars on our wedding already, and we have all sorts of famous people coming, so you better not fuck this up for me. And you can’t have any of his money either. That’s for our baby!”

There are too many people looking at us. My face feels like it’s on fire, and I’m sweating. I raise my hands in submission. “Look, I understand that you’re upset, but there’s been a misunderstanding. Can we go somewhere else to talk about this? In private?”

“Absolutely not! Everyone should know you’re a lying, cheating slut! He told me you’re the one who took off on him. You’ve been cheating on him for years!” she sneers. “And I exposed you for the money-grubbing fraud you are.” She holds her phone up in front of my face.

I can’t hear what’s playing on the screen, but the caption “Wedding Dreams Crushed by Vengeful Estranged Soon-to-Be Ex-Wife” says it all. It’s one of those horrible tabloid-style media sites, but it’s still out there, for everyone to watch. And Sissy is an overdramatic nightmare, so it will definitely garner attention.

“Sissy, baby, what’re you doing?” Corey comes barreling through the crowd, pushing people out of the way.