Chapter 25

25

Georgia tapped her fingers on the table at the coffee shop and sent another longing look toward the door. What had she been thinking?

Sending out an SOS on the first day of the playoffs was probably one of her worst ideas. Of course everyone would be busy. She checked her phone again, expecting to see an incoming message from Tara, telling her that she couldn’t join a frivolous bitch like Georgia for coffee after all.

“Watch you don’t burn a hole in that phone.”

Georgia looked up to find a grinning Tara, looking as glamorous as ever, pushing a stroller with her daughter, Esme. Behind her was a tall, striking woman with familiar cheekbones.

“Oh, hi, you’re here!”

“Of course! I don’t think you guys have met—this is my bestie, Mia Wallace. I know you wanted me all to yourself, but given your request, she is really the best person to help here. I’ll get the coffees in. Another for you, G?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Leaving Esme in her stroller playing with a cuddly giraffe, Tara waltzed off.

Mia took a seat opposite Georgia. “We’ve met before.”

“We have. Outside the Empty Net a couple of weeks ago.”

“You were on the verge of something, I think.”

That was perceptive. “It’s kind of complicated.”

Mia held up her hand. “I won’t pry, and if you’d rather I left so you can chat with Tara, then I’ll take my coffee to go.”

“Not at all. If Tara thinks you should be here, then that’s fine by me.”

Esme held up her giraffe, her grin toothy and bright. “Mama!”

“She’ll be back in a second, sweetheart.” Georgia turned to Mia with a grimace. “I know zero about babies.”

“Neither do I, but this one is her mother’s daughter. A real attention-seeker.” Mia’s lips twitched. “So, Banks, huh?”

Georgia could feel a blush coming on, the mere mention of his name taking her back to the morning’s delights. His mouth on her, sucking, licking, kissing …

Mia chuckled. “I see.”

“Do you know him?”

“Not well. He and my husband are teammates, so we’ve crossed paths. He’s got a great line drive, amazing vision from the center half.”

“You’re married to Cal Foreman, right?” He occupied one of her flash cards, but she hadn’t done any research on his wife beyond her name.

“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.”

“Oh my God, these seats are amazing!”

April, the oldest of Banks’s sisters, wended her way along the seat row with her mouth agape.

Sandra (“call me Sandy!”) poked her in the rear. “Move it along, rubbernecker. At this rate, the game’ll be over before we sit down.”

“Can I not enjoy the moment? Georgia, you have to sit in the middle so we can all have access.”

“No problem.”

She’d tried to dress “sporty,” which for Georgia meant the team’s colors—a dark blue dress with a tulip skirt, though navy wasn’t really her best color, along with white trimmings of a Kate Spade purse, belt, and shoes. (Stella McCartney wedge trainers to give her a boost.) But then everyone insisted she wear a Banks jersey, so here she was swimming in Sandy’s spare, wearing dark-washed denim and a pair of Trish’s Tecovas cowgirl boots, trying not to overtly enjoy the fact she had BANKOWSKI in large letters across her back.

“You okay, Connie?” Georgia leaned over and squeezed the old lady’s hand.

“I will be as soon as I have a drink inside me. Where’s the martini boy?”

“Oh, martini boy?” Trish called out, which set everyone off, especially as the “martini boy” who arrived was sixty if he was a day. He only stocked beers, however, which Georgia knew from her research was the drink of choice at the Big Game. “Five of your finest, please.”

“That’ll be $65.”

For five beers? Daylight robbery.

“Let me buy this round.” Given Georgia’s dislike of beer, she’d be nursing this one to the end.

“Not at all.” Trish already had the cash out. She paid and started passing just-poured beers down the row.

Once everyone was beered up and settled, Georgia looked around. She spotted Mia a couple of rows back with Ashley, Dex’s girlfriend, and her lovely daughter, Willa. Raising her beer, she got a thumbs up from Mia in return.

“Better seats than me, Bankowski?” Mia called out. “So much for player seniority!”

Georgia laughed. And Bankowski? She hadn’t given that any thought at all. This wasn’t a real marriage, so she wouldn’t be changing her name, but the idea of leaving “Goodwin” behind held a lot more appeal than expected.

Sandy looked over her shoulder. “That’s Mia Wallace. Do you know her?”

“A little. We had coffee today, actually. She’s so nice.”

“Killer player,” April said. “And her husband is so fit. You must know them all, Georgia.”

“Not terribly well.”

“Right.” Sandy winked at her. “Because you and Dylan were keeping it all under wraps for a while. He probably wouldn’t let you out of the house.”

“Or bedroom,” April added.

“Girls, don’t be crass,” Trish said.

“Sorry, Mom!” Both of them said in unison with a conspiratorial snigger in Georgia’s direction.

That was the story they’d been going with for Connie’s sake, only Banks’s sisters were supposed to be in on the scheme. Why then were they acting as though this marriage was real?

April and Sandy had arrived mid-afternoon. After a quick pizza delivery dinner/Q&A at the house, they’d checked in with the rest of the family in Apple Falls. Kelly, Banks’s youngest sister, and her husband, Jason, and their adorable twins were on the call along with Sandy’s wife, Amy, and their daughter, Scarlet, and April’s husband, Carlos, and their little girl, Jenny. (Thank God for her flash cards.) Busy with school and spring activities, they’d all stayed home, but they would be watching with a ton of other Bankowski relatives at Kelly’s house later and had plans to come to Chicago if the team made it to the later rounds.

After the call, the Chicago contingent had bundled into a couple of Ubers to head to the arena (not stadium, as Georgia had learned from Mia this morning).

Georgia was used to surrounding herself with people—it was her go-to strategy to keep her grief on a simmer instead of a boil—but she was usually able to keep everyone focused on the party, the fun, what so-and-so was wearing. Rarely was she the center of attention except in the most superficial way. Georgia and her amazing taste in clothes. Georgia and her rock star boyfriend. Georgia and her latest escapade.

But now she was part of something that felt authentic , for want of a better word, and while it wasn’t real, it was nice to pretend.

“I’m guessing you guys have seen your brother play tons of times.”

April waved both hands. “A zillion. But the playoffs are where it’s at.”

“Yeah, even this first round is exciting.” Georgia had read up on the playoffs structure as well as Banks’s history in them. He’d never won the Cup, though he’d come close a couple of times in the last fifteen years. “Must be heartbreaking for him to not have won the big one. And for you guys, too.”

Sandy looked a touch emotional as she checked to see that Connie and Trish were distracted, chatting with a woman and her teenage daughter behind them. “To be honest, it’s toughest for Mom and Gran. He’s got a few years left in him, but he’d love nothing more than to win it for Gran this year. It’s kind of weird that he’d mess with his routine like this.”

April shot a glare at her sister. “Quit it,” then to Georgia, “Don’t mind her. She’s filter-free sometimes.”

“No, it’s okay. I understand why this would seem an odd choice.”

Sandy shook her head. “Not you. I mean, you’re amazing. But hockey players are creatures of habit. And our brother has always been a slave to his regimen. To see him go a little, well, mad is kind of out there.”

April cut in. “What’s weirder is that he kept it on the down low for so long.”

“Probably because we hate everyone he dates.” Sandy grinned. “But the ones he marries … that’s another story.”

“Thank God for that,” Georgia said, keeping her tone light. “But he did think we were finished. The paperwork said otherwise.”

“Yeah, but he usually tells us stuff, even his supposed mistakes. Still, I’m not surprised he was quiet about you. We were not kind to Stacy.”

Stacy again.

“She was such a bitch.” April was definitive. “And we knew her! We don’t know you, but if you made it down the aisle with our boy, you’ve got to be an improvement.”

Trish leaned over. “You okay, Georgia? Not letting these two browbeat you into revealing all your marital secrets?”

“They’re just protective of their brother. It’s sweet.”

Trish raised an eyebrow. “These girls are a lot of things, but sweet is not one of them.”

“Mom!” Sandy winked at Georgia. “We need to see if she can handle the Bankowski Babes in all their glory. Membership is pending.”

“Only pending?” Georgia asked. “What do I need to do to make the grade?”

“Don’t fuck up our brother.”

“Sandy!” April leaned over to thump her sister, which had Sandy reaching behind Georgia to pull on April’s ear, who then started complaining that Sandy was the problem.

Georgia really missed her sister.

Connie let out a piercing whistle that brought everyone to attention. “Quit your tomfoolery! The boys are here.”

The lights dimmed and the announcer launched into introductions. It was all very Vegas, which appealed to Georgia given her history with Banks. First the players of the opposing team, the Boston Cougars, came on, then the hometown boys. When Banks’s name was called, the Bankowski Babes went wild—and Georgia was right there with them.

After all, she was being judged for membership.