Page 83 of Hockey Wife

“Oh my God, these seats are amazing!”

April, the oldest of Banks’s sisters, wended her way along the seat row with her mouth agape.

Sandra (“call me Sandy!”) poked her in the rear. “Move it along, rubbernecker. At this rate, the game’ll be over before we sit down.”

“Can I not enjoy the moment? Georgia, you have to sit in the middle so we can all have access.”

“No problem.”

She’d tried to dress “sporty,” which for Georgia meant the team’s colors—a dark blue dress with a tulip skirt, though navy wasn’t really her best color, along with white trimmings of a Kate Spade purse, belt, and shoes. (Stella McCartney wedge trainers to give her a boost.) But then everyone insisted she wear a Banks jersey, so here she was swimming in Sandy’s spare, wearing dark-washed denim and a pair of Trish’s Tecovas cowgirl boots, trying not to overtly enjoy the fact she had BANKOWSKI in large letters across her back.

“You okay, Connie?” Georgia leaned over and squeezed the old lady’s hand.

“I will be as soon as I have a drink inside me. Where’s the martini boy?”

“Oh, martini boy?” Trish called out, which set everyone off, especially as the “martini boy” who arrived was sixty if he was a day. He only stocked beers, however, which Georgia knew from her research was the drink of choice at the Big Game. “Five of your finest, please.”

“That’ll be $65.”

For five beers? Daylight robbery.

“Let me buy this round.” Given Georgia’s dislike of beer, she’d be nursing this one to the end.

“Not at all.” Trish already had the cash out. She paid and started passing just-poured beers down the row.

Once everyone was beered up and settled, Georgia looked around. She spotted Mia a couple of rows back with Ashley, Dex’s girlfriend, and her lovely daughter, Willa. Raising her beer, she got a thumbs up from Mia in return.

“Better seats than me, Bankowski?” Mia called out. “So much for player seniority!”

Georgia laughed. And Bankowski? She hadn’t given that any thought at all. This wasn’t a real marriage, so she wouldn’t be changing her name, but the idea of leaving “Goodwin” behind held a lot more appeal than expected.

Sandy looked over her shoulder. “That’s Mia Wallace. Do you know her?”

“A little. We had coffee today, actually. She’s so nice.”

“Killer player,” April said. “And her husband is so fit. You must know them all, Georgia.”

“Not terribly well.”

“Right.” Sandy winked at her. “Because you and Dylan were keeping it all under wraps for a while. He probably wouldn’t let you out of the house.”

“Or bedroom,” April added.

“Girls, don’t be crass,” Trish said.

“Sorry, Mom!” Both of them said in unison with a conspiratorial snigger in Georgia’s direction.

That was the story they’d been going with for Connie’s sake, only Banks’s sisters were supposed to be in on the scheme. Why then were they acting as though this marriage was real?

April and Sandy had arrived mid-afternoon. After a quick pizza delivery dinner/Q&A at the house, they’d checked in with the rest of the family in Apple Falls. Kelly, Banks’s youngest sister, and her husband, Jason, and their adorable twins were on the call along with Sandy’s wife, Amy, and their daughter, Scarlet, and April’s husband, Carlos, and their little girl, Jenny. (Thank God for her flash cards.) Busy with school and spring activities, they’d all stayed home, but they would be watching with a ton of other Bankowski relatives at Kelly’s house later and had plans to come to Chicago if the team made it to the later rounds.

After the call, the Chicago contingent had bundled into a couple of Ubers to head to the arena (not stadium, as Georgia had learned from Mia this morning).

Georgia was used to surrounding herself with people—it was her go-to strategy to keep her grief on a simmer instead of a boil—but she was usually able to keep everyone focused on the party, the fun, what so-and-so was wearing. Rarely was she the center of attention except in the most superficial way. Georgia and her amazing taste in clothes. Georgia and her rock star boyfriend. Georgia and her latest escapade.

But now she was part of something that felt authentic, for want of a better word, and while it wasn’t real, it was nice to pretend.

“I’m guessing you guys have seen your brother play tons of times.”

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