FinnI might have a reputation for partying, but I’ve outdone myself. After drunkenly proposing to my new teammate, Noah, during a wild night out in Vegas, I wake up with a ring on my finger, a husband by my side, and a colossal PR nightmare.The only way to salvage our careers is to pretend the marriage was intentional. Noah plays along like a pro, and I move him into my Boston penthouse. He just got called up from the AHL, and I might cost him everything.We’re stuck together for at least a year, navigating public appearances, playing hockey, and living together. In fact, this so doesn’t feel like pretend. But obviously, that’s we’re both straight. Aren’t we?