Debbie babbled with him about some technical whatnot about his shots and the game. She was, I assumed, a hockey mom through and through. Mikey listened to her but kept cutting his eyes to me. As soon as he could get a word in edgewise, he turned to me.
“You look nice in the team colors, Sweet Cheeks,” he said, all heart-eyed and simpy. I thought I was immune to his charms, but not so. I got butterflies from the compliment. His expression was so believable.
It was just the beer, right? Sometimes a single beer could make me feel all in love.
“Thanks. You look... big,” I returned. Debbie cackled.
“Told you I would,” he smirked.
“Let me get y’all’s picture!” Debbie crooned. “First hockey game with a hockey boyfriend and all!”
“Oh, okay. Sure.” I handed her my phone.
I put my back to the glass, looking to Mikey through it for guidance. He kept going with his enamored expression, reassuring me with his eyes. Debbie must have snapped one with us like that, because then she said, “Now look at me!”
We posed. “Let me get one of you three!” I said to Debbie.
“Oh no, a selfie with all of us! Laura’s going to love seeing Benny’s girlfriend,” Debbie insisted. “Benny’s sister would love you, Jessie. I hope you get to meet her soon.” Kitty jumped up to take our picture.
Whatever googly-eyed feelings I was getting from the hunk of a man on the other side of the plexiglass were muddled by the inclusion in Mikey’s family. People I didn’t know would think we were together. Ben’s sister would think we were together. Kitty shot me a nervous grimace followed by a big smile, a show that Iwasn’t insane and this situation was just insane.
So I went along with it, but also made Debbie, Lori, and Mikey pose solo. That way, when I was out of his life, they’d still have this memory.
Mikey banged on the glass one more time and beckoned me close. I walked down.
“See ya later, darlin’.”
“Have a good game, Jockey,” I said, physically unable to stop smiling when he was being all cute with me.
“Kiss for Daddy?” he asked.
“I am not kissing this nasty glass, Benjamin. But thanks for my beer order.”
“Anything for my woman,” he said with a wink. “Thanks for coming. I’ll see you after.”
Then he pulled off his helmet, gave the glass an exaggerated kiss that left a smear mark, laughed at my horror, and skated off to sign a puck for a kid. My face and ears were on fire.
At that point, there were many, many people I didn’t know who thought we were together.
* * *
My first hockey game was generally a success. Debbie and Kitty went out of their way to tell me what was going on with various plays and calls. I focused on Guy and Mikey when they were in. It was easier to focus on the game through the lens of one or two players. Much less intimidating that way.
“Guy’s a forward, so he’s more of an offensive player. Mikey’s defense, but he can still score goals if the opportunity comes up,” Kitty explained.
I still didn’t understand what icing was, but in general, I knew if there was a whistle, somebody was in at least a little bit of trouble.
In the second period, Mikey got in big enough trouble to goto the penalty box. I thought Debbie would be disappointed in her son for being reprimanded, but she was on her feet letting the officials have a piece of her mind.
Mikey didn’t look sorry in the least, chattering at the player he’d fouled even after the whistle. The next thing I knew, both helmets were off and Mikey was engaging in some sort of wrestling match. Debbie wasn’t alone in unleashing her fury. Half the crowd was cheering Mikey on in his quest for blood. With all their gear, it reminded me of those blow-up sumo suits people wrestle in at team-building events. And the official just let them do it? And his coach was unbothered about it? The sport was so bizarre to me.
By the time Mikey skated off to the penalty box, he was holding a cut on his cheek and still cussing out the player also headed to the other team’s penalty box. Ben spat almost constantly while he served his two minutes, occasionally reigniting the argument with his opponent and yelling across the layers of plexiglass. Between that and the smooch smear he left on the glass by our seats, I had to laugh at the passionate man who did everything big, including fighting. I couldn’t help thinking of him as an overgrown little kid.
The Princes ended up winning 3-1, so Mikey’s fury was not in vain. Kitty led us to the Wives Room, where we got a cold reception.
“Hey, Sydney,” Kitty greeted the person who appeared to be the Queen Bee. “This is Jessie. She’s Mikey’s girlfriend.”
Sydney cocked her blonde head to the side. “Mikey doesn’t have a girlfriend,” she said, matter-of-fact and with no smile.
