“My ex—”
“Did Maxim beat the shit out of him?” She remained stiff, her expression furious. She looked, in that moment, as if the lightest touch would cause her to shatter. Naomi usually seemed devil-may-care, but her absolute focus on Ida Jane’s injuries felt personal.
Ida Jane shook her head. Her pale skin whitened, causing the swirls of purples, blues, and yellows to stand out even more starkly.
“No, the rat bastard ran away cuz he’s a cowardly sack of horseshit. No offense to horses.”
Naomi sniffed, her disdain clear in every line of her expression and body. “Horses should be offended. When the police find him, I want a turn.” She curled her lip, anger vibrating off her. “My boyfriend in college hit me. If Mimi hadn’t come home in time…” She guzzled her margarita.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Ida Jane said, touching Naomi’s shoulder.
The two shared a long look, and then Naomi nodded. Whatever passed between them cementing a bond. I shifted, unsure what to say.
After a moment, Naomi brightened. “Sorry, that was a lot for the welcome committee. Come on in. Hey, girls! Keelie’s here with Maxim’s CAT.” Naomi winked. “Mimi, be sure to lay off on the questions. Ida Jane’s face got stomped.”
Mimi turned out to be a younger, more curvaceous version of Naomi. She hugged both Ida Jane and me and chattered pretty much nonstop about nothing. But she was sweet and thoughtful, happy to ask and answer her own questions. She reminded me of a hummingbird, flitting around the room in her pretty clothes, her big eyes sparkling.
“I’m Nicole,” a sleek brunette said. “I’m Quentin’s wife. He’s one of the D-men.” She walked in from the open-concept living area toward the kitchen, where the rest of us stood. The spaces were large and ornate. The wood floors were polished and covered in thick rugs while the farmhouse-style kitchen boasted soft blue walls and dark wood farm doors. A huge TV took up most of one wall in the living area, a gas fireplace another, and windows the last one. Three large white leather couches were situated to ensure an optimal TV-watching experience.
Once Nicole shook both our hands, she pulled her hair up into a messy bun and dug through the bag I’d brought. “Ooh, Keelie’s my new favorite person,” she said. “She went to Sephora.”
I shuffled, wondering if I’d made a mistake. Wanting to impress these women now seemed foolish. They were nice and made me feel welcome. Still, they were married to professional athletes, living in enormous homes, and driving brand-new cars. My salary only stretched so far—and I’d stretched it this month to bring this bag of goodies.
“Lemme see.” Naomi hip-checked Mimi, her sister, and dove into the bag headfirst.
Ida Jane inched closer to me, probably because I was familiar. “Do they do this for every away game?”
I shrugged.
“No,” Nicole said. “But we like to when we can. Quentin and I have three kids, and I like to be there at bedtime because he can’t. But he’s about to retire—or be forced to, thanks to his shoulder.” She grimaced. “And he’s not happy about it. He’s going to want to stay in the industry, and we both like the club here. We’re hoping Coach Whittaker and Gunnar Evaldson—that’s the Wildcatters’ owner—will ask him to stay on as a defensive coach, but we haven’t gotten there yet.”
“The thing you have to know about hockey is that the roster changes pretty much every year,” Naomi said. She opened one of the exfoliating creams I’d brought and sniffed. “You didn’t need to go this all-out, but we’re going to appreciate how great our skin looks.”
“Did you see this eye cream?” Nicole asked, signaling that she didn’t want to talk more about her husband’s transition and the potential move that would upend her family. “Girls, our men are going to lose their minds when they see us on Thursday.”
“Let’s get you girls some drinks and dive into these cosmetics,” Naomi said.
“So, how’s life with Cormac?”Naomi asked during a commercial.
We’d eaten delicious vegetarian tacos, and I’d now switched to sparkling water since I had to drive back to Cormac’s—the entire quarter or half a mile. Still, I refused to get behind the wheel if I was even the tiniest bit tipsy.
“Good. I’m staying there. With Ida Jane.”
“That was fast.” Naomi chuckled. “Good for you, Keelie! I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I picked at a thread on my knee. These jeans were about to rip open—and not in the I-paid-a-lot-of-money-for-artful-tearing way. No, mine split from normal wear. Marian’s comment that I had no sense of style flooded my mind. I swallowed, insecurities clogging my throat.
“I…I’m falling in love with him, but I don’t know what to do.”
Suddenly, everyone focused on me. The game resumed on the enormous screen, but the women seemed to edge closer.
“What’s going on?” Nicole asked.
My heart fluttered. “I found a picture of him with his ex in his bedside drawer right when…” I dropped my head into my hands, face burning, and mumbled the rest.
“Damn,” Mimi said.
“And that would have been your first time together?” Naomi asked.
