Page 82 of Hockey Wife

“Yep, one of the first line right wingers. He’s not having quite as good a season as Banks, plus-minus not up to scratch, but all that can change in the playoffs.”

“Wallace, you have to take it slow.” Tara sat down with two coffees and an assortment of pastries. She pulled a sippy cup out of her Givenchy slouchy hobo and gave it to Esme, then pushed a scone toward Georgia. “Mia is an Olympic gold medal-winning hockey player and plays for the Athenas, the women’s pro-hockey franchise in Chicago.”

“Oh, wow!” Georgia was seriously impressed. “I didn’t understand much of what you said, though, which is why I called on Tara for help. I’m starting to realize that it’s not a good day to do it. Both of you must be so busy.”

“Doing what? Supporting our men?” Tara winked at Mia, who devolved into laughter.

“Uh, no.” Mia broke off a corner of one of the scones. “The guys do not need us messing up their prep, not today of all days.”

Exactly what she’d been doing for the last week, and then this morning, when she tempted Banks into touching and tasting and licking—oh God! She covered her face in her hands.

Tara pulled at her wrist gently. “Hey, what’s wrong? We’ll get you up to speed. You’ll arrive at that game, knowing all the ins and outs of hockey.”

“That’s not it. Well, I need to know that, but all I can think of is how disruptive my presence is for Banks. Between Cheddar making him sneeze, practically poisoning him with my cooking, not to mention the sleeping situation … is it any wonder he was dying to get out of the house this morning?”

Tara and Mia exchanged concerned glances.

“The sleeping situation?” Tara asked.

“We’re—well—putting on a bit of a performance for his grandmother.”

Mia’s mouth dropped open. “Come again?”

“God, no!” Georgia huffed out a wispy laugh. “I mean, our marriage. We should be divorced by now, but there was a paperwork issue and Banks asked that we stay hitched because his grandmother wants to see him happy.”

Ten minutes later, she’d filled them in, though she left out the morning’s more intimate details, along with her own reasoning for staying in the marriage. Both women stared at her for an embarrassingly long time.

“I know this is kind of out there.”

“Not at all,” Tara said. “You’re looking at the woman who was paid to fake date a hockey player, then fell for the team’s general manager after she had insulted him several times with the label, ‘geriatric’.”

“And if crazy inciting incidents are your jam,” Mia said, “how about the one where a certain player was called out online for being a jerk, then the person who slandered him proceeded to demand he dispense all his masculine wisdom and help her seduce another guy?” She thumbed at herself to indicate she was the person. “And he happened to be her brother’s best friend!”

“Not to mention my ex,” Tara piped up with a laugh.

Georgia inhaled a calming breath. “So I’m joining an exclusive club, it seems.”

“Sure, the club of rocky and ridiculous relationship starts.” Tara grinned. “And that’s just us two. Everyone on the team has a story to tell. An accidental marriage in Vegas coupled with some fakery for the rellies and the media? That’s pretty tame, G. You’re going to have to do better than that.” Esme giggled, and Tara poked her gently in the belly. “Isn’t she, Ezzie?”

Mia laughed. “Like send him divorce papers right before Game 7 of the Cup Finals.”

“Or tell him you’re pregnant. With triplets!”

Mia pointed at Tara. “Right before Game 7 with a big sign against the plexi.”

Georgia had to laugh at that one. She could get through this. Just a few more weeks, with Banks practicing or playing or traveling for most of it. By then, hopefully, her parents would have released her funds.

“Luckily this is a purely business arrangement. There will eventually be divorce papers, but I won’t be milking the drama and doing it during an important game. And neither will I be announcing my triplet pregnancy to the world, at least not before I tell my husband.”

Even saying my husband aloud was just part of the crazy scheme. She could enjoy the skitter of pleasure down her spine, a perk of this kooky caper.

“A business arrangement?” Mia shot a quick look at Tara. “Sorry, but we’ve heard that one a million times, too. Ask Kennedy and Reid. Or Violet and Bren. Something about the forced proximity and only one bed … that’s going to blow that business arrangement out of the water.”

“No, it’s not!” Georgia pointed a finger at Mia. “Neither of us is interested in anything for the long-term. This is just to help each other out.” Realizing that she’d revealed more than she intended—this was all supposed to be a favor to Banks after all—she rushed on. “But I need to keep up my cover and give the middle finger to those TikTok bitches, which means I need to know how the game works before I sit with his family in his seats and make a fool of myself.”

She took out a new set of index cards and a pen and placed them on the table.

“Okay, okay,” Tara said with a raised hand. “Mia, babe, you’re up.”

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