Page 29 of The Hockey Contract

"Some of us prefer activities that don't involve potential concussions." She crossed her arms defensively. "Is this going to be a problem?"

I considered the implications. My teammates' wives and girlfriends usually skated comfortably at these events—many had grown up around hockey. Sienna's complete inexperience would definitely be noticed.

"It's not ideal," I admitted. "But we can work with it. I'll help you. Most of the time is just socializing anyway."

"Great." She sighed. "My first public appearance as Mrs. Hockey Star, and I'll be clinging to the boards like a terrified toddler."

"Mrs. Hockey Star?" I raised an eyebrow, amused despite myself.

"Would you prefer Ice Queen? Since you're the Ice Man?"

I winced at the nickname. "Let's stick with Jax and Sienna."

Our conversation was interrupted by both our phones buzzing simultaneously. I checked mine to find a barrage of text messages from teammates who had seen the wedding photos Olivia had strategically "leaked" to social media.

Happy for you bro! Can't believe you actually got married! – Marco

Congratulations on your fake marriage! She seems great, treat her like you would treat a real wife! – Finn

Did hell freeze over or did Jax Harrison actually get married? – Reynolds

Sienna was similarly occupied with her phone. "Apparently we're trending locally," she said, looking stunned. "The bakery's social media followers have doubled in the last hour."

I scrolled through the notifications, including several missed calls from my parents. That conversation would have to wait. Watching Sienna, I noticed her fingers trembling slightly as she typed responses to friends.

"Overwhelming?" I asked.

She nodded, setting her phone down. "I didn't anticipate the public interest. I'm just a baker."

"Who married a professional athlete after a supposed whirlwind romance. It's gossip fodder." I hesitated. "If it gets to be too much—"

"I can handle it," she interrupted firmly. "I agreed to this. I just need to adjust to the attention."

The evening progressed with us awkwardly navigating shared spaces. We established a bathroom schedule, kitchen use protocols, and where Sprinkles would sleep – officially in Sienna's room, though the dog seemed to have other ideas. Our differing habits became immediately apparent—I was methodical and neat, while Sienna left a trail of possessions behind her like breadcrumbs.

By eleven, exhaustion had set in. Neither of us had slept well the night before, and the day's emotions had taken their toll. We stood awkwardly in the hallway between our bedrooms.

"Well," Sienna said finally. "Goodnight, husband."

The word sounded strange coming from her lips—formal and intimate at the same time.

"Goodnight, wife," I replied, the term equally foreign in my mouth.

She smiled tiredly and retreated to her room, Sprinkles following dutifully. I entered my own bedroom, closing the door with a sense of relief. Alone at last, I could drop the performance.

I stripped off my suit and stood under the shower for a long time, letting hot water wash away the tension of the day. As I dried off, I caught sight of my reflection in the steamy mirror—same face, same body, but legally, fundamentally changed. I was a married man, at least on paper.

The house settled around me as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Just as I was drifting off, a scratching sound at my door pulled me back to consciousness. I ignored it at first, but the scratching persisted, followed by a pitiful whine.

With a sigh, I got up and opened the door to find Sprinkles sitting there, tail wagging hopefully. I glanced toward Sienna's closed door, debating whether to wake her.

"This isn't becoming a habit," I warned the dog in a whisper, then stepped aside to let her in.

Sprinkles trotted happily into my room, jumped onto the foot of my bed, and settled in as if she belonged there. I stood watching her for a moment, then gave up and returned to bed.

Lying in the darkness with a dog snoring softly at my feet, I listened to the unfamiliar sounds of my house with someone else in it. Through the wall, I could faintly hear Sienna moving around, the creak of her bed as she settled, the soft sound of her breathing eventually evening out into sleep.

For years, I'd cultivated solitude like a prized possession. Now that silence was broken by the presence of a woman I barely knew and her boundary-challenged dog.

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