Page 60 of Hockey Wife

“Oh, please, don’t be.” She swiped at her eye. “Never apologize for being happy. It’s important to recognize these moments when you’re in them.”

He nodded, waiting for her to get a grip. His hands on her were changing her mood from sad to something-not-so-sad, so she took a step back with a sucked in breath.

“I was worried you weren’t talking to me,” she said. “Because of how we ended our conversation the other night.”

“You do have a habit of exiting the kitchen dramatically and leaving me with the clean-up. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

“So I’m given to dramatic flourishes.”

“And the housework suffers. Coffee?”

“Please.”

He poured her a cup and fixed it the way she liked it.

“Thanks. Oh, wait a second. What was that about a wedding photo? Sandy mentioned it.”

“You don’t have a copy?”

“I never got one.”

“The celebrant texted me a link. I thought he did the same for you.”

She shook her head. He opened his phone and found the photo, rather quickly, she thought.

Banks was in his green flannel shirt but wouldn’t be for long because he gave it to her right after. She wore her pink Milla cocktail dress with a strapless bodice and applique organza skirt and of course, Manolos. As good a wedding day outfit as any. But it was their pose that struck her dead. Banks slightly turned to her, his mouth touching the top of her head, his arm circling her waist. His beard was lighter than what he had now, which made it easier to spot the curve to his lips, his tell that he had a secret.

Her. She was the secret and Banks liked it.

“It’d be nice to have a copy,” she said, peeking up to find him studying her. “My friends keep asking for visual proof.”

“I’ll text it to you.” He took a sip of his coffee. “So, about the playoffs. The first game is the day after tomorrow. I have a ticket set aside for you.”

She had planned to talk to Tara about getting a seat in the box. “You do?”

“Of course. You’re my wife.”

Heat ascended her cheeks. Anytime he used that word—or the H word—her pussy started to throb and her whole body sparked with desire. “Well, yes. I am.”

“If you don’t want to go?—”

“It’s not that. I assumed you’d need all the tickets for your family. And I’m worried about not knowing how the game works and embarrassing you. I won’t understand when you’re doing well. Or badly.”

“You could never embarrass me. And you’ll understand. The crowd has a pulse.”

“A pulse?”

He nodded and placed a fist to his chest. “A heartbeat.” He gently banged against his left pec, like he was knocking at a door. Th-thump. Th-thump.

Her heart rate picked up, beating in rhythm with that fist.

“I’ve been watching YouTube videos to learn the rules. But if all I need to do is commune with the crowd to figure it out, maybe I don’t need it?”

“So you’ll come to the game?”

“I suppose it would look suspicious if I didn’t go.” Giving him an out.

“It would.” Before disappointment could take over, he added, “But I’d like you to be there anyway.”

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