But hewasthere. On a date. With someone who wasn’t me. I just have to accept it. I should be able to by now. He’ll inevitably get serious with someone and I will slowly be cut out of his life. I, for one, wouldn’t want my future husband to have a female best friend and that works both ways. I shift uncomfortably in my seat.
“April?” Heidi’s voice cuts through my garbage disposal thoughts.
“It’s okay.”
“Is it?” She’s not needling me. More like giving me a chance to talk. I shouldn’t. I ought to stuff these feelings deep down. Bury them at the bottom of a canyon. Stash them in the attic. Return them to the vault. At least keep them out of sight. But he’s dating and I have to face the future, the rapidly approaching reality that things between us will ultimately change.
“It’s just ... you saw her, right? Posh is beautiful and sophisticated and probably doesn’t own a single garment with dog hair on it.”
Heidi laughs.
“And I’m just ... me. The girl who walks Clark’s dogs and reminds him to pay his bills and wears sneakers with paw prints on them instead of the classic black and white checkers.” I gesture to my feet—a gift from him, but still. “I’m not NHL star girlfriend material.”
Heidi pulls into a parking spot at the Ice Palace and turns to face me fully. “Can I tell you something?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Nope.” She smiles. “You’ve been Clark’s person for ten years. You’re the first one he texts when something good happens. You’re the one he calls when he needs to talk. You’re the reason his life functions at all. If that’s not girlfriend material, I don’t know what is.”
“That’s friend material,” I correct quickly. “That’s exactly what friends do.”
She bunches up her lips and shakes her head. “Mmm. Keep telling yourself that.”
We head into the arena, and I try to shake off the image of Clark and Posh. Today is a big game—potentially playoffs-deciding. I need to be here for him, cheering him on, being the supportive best friend.
Even if it’s like walking on ice barefoot.
The Ice Palace is electric with energy. It’s April first, and someone has hung a banner that readsTHE KNIGHTS ARE NO FOOLS!in silver and red.
I follow Heidi up to the VIP suite, where the other WAGs and family members are already gathering. Jess waves us over, and soon I’m surrounded by friendly faces and excited chatter.
Cara hugs me. “Did you hear? Howie’s here!”
“Howie?”
“The gnome!” Ella jumps in, practically bouncing. “Oh, this is your first time seeing him. Okay, so?—”
“The first rule of Knights,” Jess interrupts in a dramatic whisper.
Leah finishes, “Is we don’t talk about the gnome.”
“But we’re going to talk about the gnome,” Whit adds with a mischievous smile.
Over the next few minutes, as we settle into our seats and the teams warm up on the ice, the girls tell me the saga of Howie the garden gnome. It’s ridiculous and wonderful—something about Hudson’s twin brother Hunter stealing it from Coach Badaszek’s yard, years of pranks that tormented Leah, and eventually the gnome becoming the mascot for the Happy Hockey Days festival.
“Wait,” I say, trying to follow the timeline. “So, Coach Badaszek let them keep a stolen gnome?”
“His late wife would have wanted them to have it,” Margo explains softly. “It’s actually really sweet when you think about it.”
“And now Howie’s here?” I scan the arena and spot the ceramic hockey gnome perched proudly near the Knights’ bench, wearing a tiny jersey.
“It’s like a good luck charm,” Margo confirms.
Leah adds, “Though technically we’re not superstitious.”
I cannot help but laugh at the logic.
The game starts, and I forget about everything else—Posh, squeaky toys, my confused feelings. Right now, it’s just hockey.
