Page 26 of Hockey Wife

That he was a fool.

Well, he wasn’t a fool. He didn’t make impetuous, life-changing decisions. Marry in haste, repent at leisure, was how the saying went. He might have the first part of that down, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be spending long repenting.

It wouldn’t hurt to give this time. Give Georgia the space to fix things with her parents and assure the world he wasn’t an idiot who married a pretty young thing because she made his old, decrepit heart feel shit. Besides, his mother had the right of it: he needed to see it through. Figure out what led them down that aisle. It might be about money for Georgia now, but it wasn’t then.

“So, we doing this?”

Her eyes flew wide, all that ocean-blue, and for a second he thought he saw a spark of relief. Maybe even a flash of power.

“Sure, I’ll stay married to you, Big Guy.” Like she was doing him a solid. Georgia Goodwin was back in the saddle, and man, he liked that look on her. “But I need a favor.”

“Another one?”

There was that sinful curve to her mouth. It was going to be the death of him.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?”

9

“Darling! You made it!”

Georgia smiled thinly at her mother. “Of course I did. You invited me.”

Penny Goodwin gave a raspy, knowing laugh. “And whenever have you paid attention to your poor old mother? Your father will be thrilled.” She looked around the glitzy ballroom at the Drake in downtown Chicago, bannered and beautified for the Humane Society gala, seeking out Georgia’s dad. “We were just saying that we need to meet Derek. Have the two of you over for dinner and talk about a reception for the newlyweds.”

Her mom’s voice lifted on that last phrase, sounding a touch hysterical.

“It’s Dylan, Mom. Dylan Bankowski.”

“GiGi, you’re here!” Her father kissed her on the cheek.

“Why is everyone so surprised I accepted an invitation?”

“We’re not surprised,” her father said, as if Georgia was the one getting it all wrong. “It’s lovely to see you. Your mother’s been worried.”

“I hear Darren’s from Wisconsin. Is that last name Polish?”

“It’s Dylan, and yes, my husband is Polish.” She wasn’t sure if the mention of the word “husband” or “Polish” made her mother’s eyes twitch; either way, it was most gratifying.

Her father stepped in before her mother could say anything else. “It’s nice to see you settled, GiGi. Can’t wait to meet him.”

“Good, because he’ll be here tonight.”

Penny Goodwin’s eyes went as wide as the Villeroy & Boch plates they’d be serving mushroom Wellington on later. “Here? But darling, why ever would you think that was a good idea? We really should be doing this in private, don’t you think?”

“Well, nothing’s been private about it so far. Why start now?”

Her mom got that pinched look between her eyebrows. “Georgia, I’m thinking of Dar—Dylan. How awkward for him to meet his in-laws under such strange circumstances.”

At this rate, Georgia didn’t care. Her parents weren’t terribly awful, just a little bit awful. No worse than most parents except they took their jobs very seriously: they disapproved of everything she did.

While her mother jabbered on about which locations might be suitable for a last-minute wedding reception (cart before the horse, darling, but we’ll manage!), Georgia cast a nervy glance over her shoulder. She should have insisted they meet beforehand. Make an entrance together. But he’d said he’d be busy “with my job” all day so he’d see her here. She’d left his name at the door but maybe she should text him again.

She turned toward the entrance just as a male model in a suit appeared to block her view.

Only that was no male model.

That was … Banks.

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