Chapter 9 Rosie #2
This week has been stressful, with the unexpected twist I didn’t have on my bingo card of an impromptu marriage thrown in, I could go for waking up to the sweet sounds of the lake outside my bedroom window.
Maybe we'll even get some snow.
Jill scoots into the seat beside mine, freeing up my spot.
“Hi there! I’m Jill Franklin. I’m so sorry—I was catching up with Cassie.”
Cassie gives me a polite wave, and I smile awkwardly at them both.
“Boone’s family doesn’t come to games, and he never brings a guest. I had no idea this was your seat, or that you were waiting for me to move. I feel so rude.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I take my seat and adjust my bag with my tablet in it until it’s resting on the floor in front of me between my feet.
Jill gestures to the other woman sitting next to me and I quickly realize that “peaceful” isn’t going to describe this evening. They are both beautiful women, and seem nice, but I’m sitting smack in the center of whatever exciting conversation they were having and feel like a total outsider.
“It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Rosie,” I say, keeping it brief.
I don’t elaborate. Despite the glaring evidence of my gaudy engagement ring and the silver wedding band I picked out this week, I decide to let the news speak for itself shortly, which I’m sure it will after we’re photographed together having dinner after the game—or I'll just let them ask.
There’s no harm in people knowing that we got married, it's about to come out, but hockey wives and girlfriends seem to have an unspoken code about gossiping to the press so I doubt it’ll get out before our guys can leak it.
The chair is slightly more spacious than the standard ones in the stadium, a small perk of front-row, reserved seating. But it’s still tight, and I quickly realize that if I try to get any work done, Jill and Cassie will practically be reading over my shoulder.
And probably wonder why I'm not more focused on my husband playing his game.
So much for multitasking.
“So…” Jill begins, trailing off, her tone dripping with curiosity.
I can see the curiosity burning behind her eyes, but I keep my expression neutral.
These women aren’t my friends, and I doubt they want to be. They’re just looking for the next juicy piece of gossip. If they’re bold enough to ask, I’ll answer, but I’m not about to hand it to them on a silver platter.
I smile instead. “Who are you here to watch?” I ask, smoothly steering the conversation in another direction.
“Um, Lochlan,” she says, pointing toward the ice. A helmetless guy is skating around, joking with another player with shaggy, blonde hair spilling out from under his helmet. “That’s my husband.”
“Nice,” I say, mostly because I don’t know what else to say. “You didn’t want to sit up in the box?”
Jill wrinkles her nose like I just suggested something offensive. “Usually, the puck bunnies get sent up there. The wives sit down here where we can see the action because we actually care about watching our husbands play and not posting on social media the entire time.”
Noted. Guess I’m never getting to check out the skybox with its undoubtedly delicious food and drinks in fear of being accused of being a puck bunny.
I give her a polite smile and stay quiet as Cassie leans in. “So… you’re Boone’s new girlfriend?” She pauses, looking slightly embarrassed. “Sorry for our surprise. It’s just… he hasn’t had a girlfriend since—”
Jill makes a face at her that stops her from talking.
“Anastasia,” I say with a practiced smile.
I should have known they’d know his ex-fiancé.
They both nod like they’re relieved I’m not oblivious to who she is.
How could I not be? Anastasia Belmont, heiress to the Belmont Bread fortune, was plastered all over the news as Boone’s fiancée when they got engaged until their very public breakup.
And, well, I am supposed to be married to the guy now.
It feels like that’s something that a couple would talk about prior to getting married.
‘Just so you know, I’ve been engaged before. To the heir of a bread dynasty.’
That conversation definitely didn’t happen between us, but I can imagine that’s how it would have gone.
“Yeah, I’m sure it’s a bit shocking to see me here,” I add. “But when Boone and I met, it was basically love at first sight.”
Jill’s eyes drop to my hand, and she lets out an audible gasp. “Is that… an engagement ring and a wedding band?”
“You two are married?” Cassie whisper-shouts, her tone almost scandalized.
I smile again, unfazed, because this reaction is to be expected and I’m working which means, well, I’m acting too. “This week, actually.”
Jill lets out a laugh, shaking her head. I can’t tell whether it’s genuine or cynical, but before I can dwell on that, the buzzer sounds, indicating the game is starting.
And then the whole stadium erupts into pure chaos. Pucks fly, players crash into the glass, and Cassie and Jill erupt into shouts, cheering loudly for their husbands.
The roar of the crowd is deafening, and any chance for conversation is obliterated by the sheer intensity of the game. At one point I see Boone go head-to-head with a player from the other team, smashing each other into the glass.
I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing, but damn does he look hot doing it. What do they call the ice rink? The boy aquarium. Adorable. But also… intense.
By the time halftime is called, I feel like I just witnessed an actual battlefield rather than a hockey game.
I want to ask if they’re going to be okay. There was some blood, and I’m pretty sure one of our guys got their noses broken. But the moment the players clear the ice, Jill and Cassie turn back to me like we didn’t just witness a full-on massacre at the hands of their husbands.
Wait, our husbands?
Wow… that’s a weird thought to have and it came a little too naturally.
“We’re so happy for you and Boone. Boone hasn’t dated anyone since Anastasia and frankly, we were all worried about him when he moved in with Penn.”
Cassie nods in agreement.
“Who’s Penn?” I ask innocently. The second the words leave my mouth I realize I should have not asked that.
Jill’s brows raise in suspicion. If I was actually married to Boone, I’d know who the hell Penn is, his apparent “ex” roommate prior to me. And the guy he’s currently, really living with.
“You’ve never met Penn?” Jill asks cautiously.
I laugh, trying to brush off the question. It’s too late to backpedal now. “No, I don’t think so. Boone’s always been protective of our relationship. That’s why I haven’t met any of the other players or his friends.”
Cassie nods like that tracks. “That would explain why Ty never mentioned you. Boone and he talk about everything together it seems. Penn’s number six.
” She gestures to the ice, where the shaggy blonde guy that I noticed earlier skates toward the bench.
Something about his face tugs at a memory.
“Huge showboat, big defensive player, and total asshole. He’s the one always getting Boone into trouble.
You know, the one dragging him out to bars. ”
And holy shit. My money’s on this guy being the one who paid for the private dance with Boone at the club in Hoboken.
I fight the heat creeping up my neck and focus on adjusting my shorts, forcing a casual smile. “Gotcha. Yeah, I think Boone was just, you know, waiting for the right time to introduce me to everyone. Now that it’s out in the open, and official legally, I’ll be coming around more.”
“Love at first sight. Thought that only happened in the movies but I’m really happy for you two.
Boone deserves the best and you seem like a real sweetheart who isn’t just after his money and fame,” Jill says with a smile, and for the first time, I feel like I’m having a genuine conversation with other women that doesn’t leave me feeling awkward or out of place.
These women aren’t being negative; they’re actually being supportive of my fake marriage to Boone.
It’s… nice in a very strange and unexpected way.
Somehow, the conversation naturally shifts to jokes about their husbands and plans for the offseason. They’re already talking about a Europe trip with the other wives and players, casually including me in their plans like I belong here and will be on that trip with them.
It’s bizarre, being invited into this tight-knit circle when everything about my relationship with Boone is a farce. I thought these women would see through me, loathe me, or at least judge me for waltzing into Boone’s life without having met anyone prior.
But instead, his good reputation and general likability seem to be shielding me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. Making this easier for people to believe than I thought it would be.
The buzzer blares, signaling the start of the second period. Boone skates out, and before the game fully picks up, he glides to the glass where I’m sitting. Then he blows me a kiss—or at least I think it’s meant for me—and shoots me a wink.
Cassie and Jill loudly swoon and then laugh.
“You know,” Jill says, leaning in conspiratorially, “he’s the most private on the team.
We always figured that meant he was the kinkiest and that’s why he never brings any woman around.
He keeps his interests under wraps. Behind closed doors.
Maybe has women sign NDAs before he sleeps with them or something like that. ”
Cassie nods, her grin wicked. “And we’ve had an ongoing bet he’s packing the biggest cock.” She glances toward the ice. “Though Ty is, like, absurdly hung, so… maybe not.”
“I’ve never met a guy as big as Lochlan so there’s no way that’s possible,” Jill adds.
I can’t stop the furious blush that’s rising to my cheeks. They’re casually discussing their husband’s and Boone’s anatomy like it’s no big deal, and I have no idea how to respond given I’ve never even seen him with his shirt off despite being legally married to him.
We’re supposed to be doing the deed. Humping like bunnies. In the honeymoon phase still. Or whatever it is that newly married people do.
Luckily, the game distracts them again, and soon I’m on my feet, caught up in the action and cheering louder than I ever expected. It feels… oddly natural.
When Boone scores his fourth goal, the entire stadium erupts into a deafening roar. Seven wins in a row and still dominating the tournament they’re in.
I can’t help the swell of pride in my chest, even though this is all supposed to be pretend. He’s so confident and good at what he does. Maybe I just love seeing people succeed because that’s the same feeling I get when I win a tough case.
Jill leans over to me as Boone skates a celebratory lap, soaking in the applause of thousands of loud fans as he lifts his arms up and down with a wide grin.
“See? Big dick energy.”
Cassie smirks, leaning in from the other side. “More like big ice pick energy. Maybe once you see all of us hockey wives aren’t so bad, we’ll be able to hang out more outside of the rink.”
“Oh, yes! Let’s go shopping next week. Lochlan owes me a new bag.”
I smile. “Sure.”
When the final whistle blows, I’m hit with a strange sense of loss. The game is over, but the energy in the stadium lingers, electric and alive. And more than that, I actually had fun watching Boone play.
“They do a press conference after the game,” Jill says, looping her arm through mine as we stand. Cassie grabs my other arm, and together they start leading me toward the tunnel. “Then the guys meet us there.”
“Bet Boone will want to be celebrating all night inside of you,” Cassie quips with a wink.
“I know Lochlan will,” Jill says with a sigh. “I can’t wait. He's always so horny after a good win.”
And the worst—or maybe the best part of that is it doesn’t sound bad.
It sounds really nice.