Chapter 19

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.”

“Home help?”

“Yes, Jim Dixon’s family isn’t getting the assistance they need from social services, and I wondered if?—”

“Dixon?” Georgia heard the clack-clack of a keyboard. “That’s one of our clients from last year.”

“Yes, and he’s still with us. But his family is stretched to the limit and?—”

“You mean you went to see him again?”

“I pop in on occasion. They’re a lovely family and I’d like to figure out more ways we can help beyond a birthday gift. I feel as though we’re letting the caregivers down.”

“Georgia,” Carol said, her voice strained. “We’re here for the person who won’t be around much longer. Our resources can’t stretch to helping the families. That’s what the city and county’s social services are for.”

“But they’re not getting the help. Debbie is run off her feet and she’d like to go back to work.”

Carol sighed. “And we don’t have the budget to do that. Now I have you down for a birthday visit with Melinda Cartwright tomorrow. Are you still on for that?”

“Yes, of course.” Banks’s family would be arriving from Wisconsin around noon, and she planned to spend the morning getting the house ready. But she would make time for a birthday gift drop-off.

The doorbell rang.

“Thanks, Carol.” For being singularly unhelpful.

She rang off, annoyed that the charity had such tunnel vision when it came to helping people. Debbie had to give up her job a couple of years ago to become her father’s full-time caregiver. Her husband Mick did his best but had a chronic back injury that didn’t allow him to help much or do any of the heavy lifting. Debbie was on the hook for all of it.

The door chime went again and was soon followed by an impatient thump. Cheddar ran for the laundry room, his typical hide-out when things got noisy.

Another chime sounded as she approached.

“Okay, okay, hold your horses!” She pulled open the door and looked down. The woman was shorter than Georgia, which was saying something, given Georgia’s diminutive stature. Eighty if she was a day, she had a shock of white hair, dancing brown eyes, and a curve to her lips that said she was trouble.

“Georgia!”

“Guilty.”

“Kochanie!” She moved in and wrapped herself around Georgia’s waist with a tight hug. “You’re just as gorgeous as they said!”

“I am?” The words had hardly escaped her mouth when realization dawned. “Are you?—”

“Connie Bankowski, Dylan’s grandmother. Yours, too!”

Another woman, about mid-fifties with dark and softly waved hair, was opening the trunk of an SUV. She removed at least six suitcases.

“Mama, let her breathe!” The woman came up and pulled the old lady back. “Sorry, you’d swear she never gets out. Hi, I’m Trish, Dylan’s mom.”

“I’m Georgia, but I’m guessing you know that. We thought you weren’t arriving until tomorrow.”

Connie chuckled. “The girls are coming up tomorrow, but we figured we’d scout ahead. See if maybe you have any good news for me.” She added a pointed look at Georgia’s stomach.

“Mama!” Trish shook her head.

She thought … “No, I-I’m not. Not yet!” Good Lord, they’d have to do the deed first. “Oh, so sorry to leave you standing on the doorstep. Come in, come in!”

“She could be expecting,” Connie was saying. “They got married almost three months ago. And no one waits until marriage to have sex anymore. She could be five months along for all we know.”

Georgia could only laugh at the logic. Trish was struggling with the luggage, so Georgia stepped in and started dragging.

“Bowling balls,” Connie said with a wink. “Gotta keep my arm loose for the league.”

“I’m not sure where Ba—we were planning to put you.”

“Probably as far away from the lovebirds as possible,” Connie said.

From the love —oh. They’d expect Banks and Georgia to be in their own room. Together. With one bed.

She’d known that was a likelihood, but she had assumed they’d discuss it first.

What’s to discuss? You’re married and should be lying beside your husband for long, sleepless nights …

“Let’s worry about the room assignments later.” Georgia cupped Connie’s elbow and guided her toward the living room. “You guys must be tired. What time did you start traveling?” The Bankowskis lived in Apple Falls, Wisconsin, just outside of Green Bay.

“Just after 6:30. Best way to beat the traffic.” Trish screwed up her mouth. “Did we wake you? We probably should have warned you.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. How about tea or coffee?”

Connie sank into the corner of the large sectional while Trish arranged cushions around her. “Coffee would be great. Need a hand?” Trish asked.

“Not at all!” In the kitchen, Georgia shot off a text to Banks.

Surprise! Your mom and grandmother are here.

The phone rang immediately.

“Hotel Banks, how can I direct your call?”

“Are you kidding?”

“Why would I kid about that?”

His growl went to places that were unfortunately very receptive. “Are they okay?”

“Of course they are. They have six suitcases and look like they’re planning to stay a month.”

More growling. Yum. “Could you hold the fort until I get there? Morning skate’s about to start, though it’s optional and I could probably skip it.”

“Don’t change your plans. In case you haven’t heard, I can be very charming. Not that it’s ever worked on you.”

Manly grunt.

“Excuse me?”

“Married you, didn’t I?”

Her lips tugged up in a smile. “ My charm’s to blame?”

“Certainly wasn’t mine.”

Was he … flirting with her? “Yep, you’re as charmless as they come, Big Guy.”

And she was flirting right back. Enough of that, ya hussy.

“What are they doing now?”

“Settling in. I said we’d give them rooms later, mostly because I didn’t want them seeing that we’re not”—she lowered her voice to a whisper—“in the same one.”

“Okay, we can figure that out. They won’t question why your clothes aren’t in mine. You need a lot of space for your collection.”

She chuckled. “Right, my collection. Because there’s plenty of room with the fifty million suits in your closet.”

“I like to have choices.”

“I’ve never seen so many men’s clothes. I can see why you leased this place. You needed storage for your habit.”

“If looking good is a habit, then it’s one I’m not gonna break.”

“It’s okay. You’re vain. It can’t be helped.”

His laugh was low and rumbly and went straight to her core. “You object to me looking fine?”

Not for a second. “I object to you spending that much time in a relationship with one person. Yourself.”

Another Banks laugh warmed her through. “You’d better get back and get our story straight.”

Our story. She’d do well to remember that was all it was: a fairy tale.

“Okay. I’ll hold back the hordes until you swoop in to save me.”

Another grunt, and he rang off.

Trish put her head around the door, which meant that she probably overheard some or all of that. “Need a hand?”

“As I haven’t gotten very far, probably yes.” She held up her phone. “Thought I’d better warn him.”

Trish smiled, her eyes whiskey warm, just like her son’s. “You two iron out your plan of attack?”

Alarm streaked through her. Just how much did Trish know? She wished Banks had been more up front about who was part of the inner circle.

“Now, why ever would you think we’d need that?”

“Oh, no reason, except you were a bit of a surprise. My son is not the most impulsive person. He’s always been the rock of the family.”

“Since your husband died.”

Trish nodded and moved to grab mugs from the cupboard. “It was a lot to put on him. Made him so determined to succeed, so he could provide for us all. He’s always been so unselfish and …” She paused, clearly trying to think of a way to phrase this without offending her new daughter-in-law. “This is kind of out of character.”

“But not out of character for me. I’m guessing you’ve done some research.”

Trish looked embarrassed, but not enough to hold off on the interrogation. “Did you really drive a golf cart into a swimming pool?”

“That’s old news. But … yes.” Dani’s voice echoed in her ear. Do it, G. All the way.

“It’s really none of my business.”

Georgia bit her lip. “Of course you’re going to be worried about your son. Here he is, stable as they come, and married to a wild child with a history of getting into trouble. I’d be worried, too. But you can be assured that’s behind me.”

Now I just ensnare innocent hockey players and force them to stay married for my own selfish, fucked up reasons.

Trish waved a hand that said she was drawing a line under it. “I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to suffer intrusive questions from your dreaded mother-in-law.”

“I get it, truly I do. He’s your baby and you want to protect him.”

Brow in a rumple, Trish seemed to think a moment before pulling Georgia into a hug as warm as it was surprising.

“Georgia, I get that this is awkward considering how fast it happened and that we haven’t had a chance to meet. Connie’s thrilled. She’s always worried about Dylan—the golden child, y’know?” She winked at that, which made Georgia relax a little. “So we’re going to do anything we can to make sure she’s not disappointed.”

Georgia tensed up again, which Trish sensed immediately.

“No, that came out wrong! Not that you would ever disappoint us. Just that, we all know this isn’t the real deal. All of us except Connie.”

“You do?”

“Yes. So we’re all going to act like this is perfectly normal, which I’m sure it is.” She scrunched up her mouth. “Is it?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Trish barked out a laugh. “Got it. Well, you only need to pretend you’re crazy about my son in front of his grandmother. The rest of us are all in on it. Wink, wink. A little less pressure, right?”

“Appreciate it.” Tightness thickened her throat. So Banks wasn’t able to maintain the lie for his mom and sisters. No one bought them as a couple except the little old lady who probably had poor eyesight.

He’d said he wanted to save face, but evidently that didn’t extend to fooling his family. She supposed she should be glad he had this great, open relationship with them. She was rather envious, to be honest.

Trish took a long hard look at her. “My son knows how to pick ’em, that’s for sure.”

Georgia had no clue if that was a good or bad thing. Regardless, she felt as though Trish understood her.

Which made one of them.