Page 18 of The Nanny Goal

As the teams have an epic puck battle in front of the Minnesota net, I dig in my pocket for a pack of antacids I bought at the airport.

“Get it up the ice,” my dad snaps. “Come on, now!”

Camden’s team does not get it up the ice.

Instead, the puck bounces loose, Hiro Watanabe snaps it to Hayden Calhoun, who beelined it to the net, and Hooner scores.

The arena goes crazy.

My dad mutters something about goalie interference. Sure enough, the coaches think the same thing, and they issue a coach’s challenge on the goal, and the play is paused while they go to the video review.

The Jumbotron starts showing people in the crowd while we wait for the decision.

I slump in my seat again, covering my face.

My mother pokes me. “Stop fidgeting.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m not?—”

“You are, and it’s distracting.”

Distracting from what, I have no idea. The refs are going to take their time on this review. It’s already two nothing for the home team, and this goal would make it three zip before the end of the first period.

It’s not looking good for Team Granger, that’s for sure. I think Alexei’s only faced three shots on net so far, and he’s handily dealt with all of them.

Besides, she was just deep in conversation with Alexei’s father.Nowshe suddenly can’t ignore that I’m restless?

My fingers itch to pull out my phone and text some friends I’ve ignored for far too long. To beg for an excuse to get up out of this seat and not come back until the end of the game.

The refs finally make a call on the goalie interference—yes, it was, so the score remains 2-0 for the Highlanders.

My dad is elated, and I manage to keep still until the end of the period, but it’s a real challenge.

Especially now that the conversation right beside me has turned to Alexei’sbaby.

Toddler.

Not a baby anymore.

“Emery, look!” My mom shoves Sergei’s phone in my face. “Isn’t she precious?”

The worst part is that sheisprecious. Of course she is. She has Alexei’s dark hair, dark eyes, and porcelain skin.

I snap my gaze up to the Jumbotron. The crowd cam happens to flash a shot of the WAGs, up in a suite today, and that’s enough of a sign for me.

“Mom, I’m going to go find Rusty’s girlfriend,” I say in a rush.

When I was a teenager, Russ Armstrong was one of the few players who recognized my hockey ability, and he earned my lifelong friendship. Last summer, after reconnecting at Camden’s third wedding, I spent a week with him and some of his teammates at his cottage, filling in as a plus-one of sorts that morphed into being a fake girlfriend. Despite that questionable decision, because he’s never been anything other than a brother figure, I managed to strike up a real friendship with the woman he was secretly in love with at the time, and Shannon has been poking me to come to a game ever since.

I have politely refused every invite, because Alexei was traded to the Highlanders a month later—and I have preferred to keep an international border or at least a few Canadian provinces between me and my greatest mistake for the last two years.

But here I am anyway, so…

Before my mom can reply, I’m out of my seat and heading for the concourse, my phone out.

Emery

Hey pals. Surprise. I’m at the game tonight! Do you have room for a friend in the suite with you?

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