Page 92 of Offside Bride

28

MAGGIE

Patricia Thornton’s living room is like an Ethan Allen catalog on steroids—with its curated sofas and gilded throw pillows. This house is all about the plush cream carpets that your feet sink into with every step, silk curtains that shimmer in the soft lighting, and antique furniture that looks too delicate to actually sit on without breaking into a thousand priceless pieces. There’s even a grand piano in the corner, which I’m pretty sure is just for show.

The whole place screams‘I have more money than I know what to do with,’but in the most tasteful way possible.

I’m starting to second-guess bringing Otto with me, but ever since he was bird-napped, I never let him out of my sight. I hope he doesn’t poop on the carpet.

Everything looks so different from when I came here a few months ago for dinner—partly because it’s a bright, sunny afternoon. Things look different in the daytime, you know. I think it’s more likely because almost getting unalived by the mafia really changes your perspective of things.

But, if I’m being truly honest, being in love is what truly changes a person.

I’m perched on the edge of a velvet chaise lounge, trying not to spill my champagne as Patricia’s book club dissolves into fits of giggles.

I glance over at Emily and Siobhan, sipping champagne from crystal flutes and nibbling on tiny quiches and salmon puffs. Jessica came to support me, too, but she’s not drinking champagne since she recently found out she’s pregnant again. She’s bouncing little Brylee on her knee, just as involved in the book club conversation as Patricia’s friends.

The ladies around me are dressed to the nines, pearls gleaming at their throats and designer handbags perched beside them. They’re all perfectly coiffed and manicured, looking like they’ve just stepped out of a country club luncheon in their pastel sweaters and tweed dress suit sets.

But right now, these prim and proper ladies are anything but composed as they gush overTouchdown for Love.

“Oh, when Jake said ‘I’d rather fumble with you than score with anyone else,’ I nearly fainted!” Mrs. Harrington exclaims, fanning herself with her paperback.

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. Who knew my little football romance would be such a hit with the country club set?

“I simply adored the scene where Jake catches Sarah practicing her touchdown dance,” Mrs. Ashworth gushes, her diamond bracelet jangling as she gesticulates. “It’s positively scandalous!”

Mrs. Ashworth is on her third glass of champagne. She should probably slow down a little.

“Oh, but the locker room scene!” Mrs. Worthington clutches her discrete cover edition ofTouchdown for Loveto her chest, causing her pearls to clack against her Chanel tweed suit. “I had to take a cold shower after that one.”

Mrs. Fairfax, who is probably nearing ninety, wags her brows and says something I wouldn’t dare repeat in polite society and then adds, “I haven’t blushed so much since my wedding night!”

I nearly choke on a caviar-topped blini. These ladies are wild! Who knew the upper crust could be so…crusty?

Emily catches my eye from across the room and mouths “Oh. My. God.” I have to stifle a laugh. This is surreal.

“Ladies, ladies,” Jessica chimes in, “Let’s not forget the emotional depth. The way Jake struggled with his fear of commitment? So relatable.”

I feel a warmth spreading through my chest. These women get it. They really get it.

Otto squawks his new favorite phrase, which is just a series of numbers over and over, and occasionally calls for someone named Nico—probably the mobster that was in charge of feeding him.

“Maggie, darling,” Patricia says, leaning towards me. “You simply must tell us. Are you working on anything new?”

I can’t help but smile. “Actually, I am. I’m ten chapters into a new hockey romance.”

“Hockey, eh?” Patricia leans in conspiratorially. “Is that based on anyone…real?” She winks so hard I worry she’s having a stroke.

“A lady never kisses and tells,” I demur, channeling my inner socialite.

The room erupts in delighted squeals and excited chatter. I catch Siobhan’s eye, and she gives me a thumbs up. My sister-in-law is loving every second of this.

“Oh, how thrilling!” Mrs. Harrington claps her hands. “Will there be fights on the ice? And steamy locker room scenes?”

I laugh, feeling lighter than I have in weeks. “You’ll just have to wait and see!”

“Darling, your imagination is simply divine,” Patricia gushes, reaching over to pat my hand. Her friends nod in agreement, their perfectly coiffed heads bobbing like well-dressed pigeons.

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