Page 61 of Hockey Wife

It sounded like he meant it, like her presence mattered.

“I’d love to be there.”

“Good.”

19

Oliver always insisted on FaceTime.

It was far too early in the morning for that kind of thing, but he preferred it, so she usually went along with it. After all, he was her oldest friend. (Something she said a lot to excuse his behavior.)

“G, where have you been?”

He looked handsome, though it was ten in the morning, and he must have just woken up. Oliver never got up before 9:30, if he could help it.

“Oh, here and there.”

“Playing the good little wifey, huh? I went by your place. Doorman was super cagey about your whereabouts.”

“I moved in with Dyl—Banks. It seemed the best thing in the circumstances.”

He frowned. “Did he make you move in with him?”

“God, no. We both agreed that keeping the fiction required certain things that are expected of married couples. Like living in the same house …” And kissing. Damn Oli and his FaceTime demands, which required her to school her expression to a neutral she was incapable of feeling. “Married people are supposed to want to spend time together.”

“My parents would disagree.” He sniffed. “How about we meet up for a boozy lunch?”

“I wish I could, but I have some things going on.”

“You never have time for me anymore. Skye and Paris were saying so as well. The gang’s falling apart.”

She sighed at his amateur dramatics. “It’ll only be for a short time.” Banks had said that getting through the playoffs was imperative, as if that was the deadline for their marriage. “There’s a bigger spotlight on us at this time because of the playoffs, which start tomorrow, but once that’s done, we’ll be out of the glare.”

“Well, I guess you must be enjoying the attention. Classic Georgia. People seem to go mad for these weird hookups, don’t they?”

The gossip rags certainly loved playing up their differences—background, size, age, outlook. The hard-working professional athlete at the tail-end of his career slumming it with the party girl who sat around on her tush all day. But did her friends have to be so dismissive? After all, she and Banks had once thought this was worth a shot, and while she insisted it was a mistake, she didn’t enjoy everyone else agreeing with her.

Oli was still talking. “You could always throw a party at—where are you living now?”

“Winnetka. It’s really nice here.”

She had taken a walk along the beach this morning, loving the serenity of this pocket of peace so close to the city. Though she would not have minded a big, muscled hockey player by her side. The thought of a party in this calm space did not sit well.

“When can we visit?”

She jerked back to the conversation, wondering why her body was reacting so negatively to Oli’s suggestion. He was her friend. They all were, yet she’d felt a distance from them for months now.

She had an incoming call from Carol Vesney, her boss at Cherish the Days. Saved.

“Hey, that’s my other line. I’ll check in later.”

“You’d better!”

She answered the other call. “Hey, Carol!”

“Hello, Georgia.” Carol was a grump who was unappreciative of Georgia’s cheer levels. “You left a message saying you needed to talk.”

“I did! So I wanted to ask about getting some home help for one of our clients.”

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