Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Parker finally looks up, raising a skeptical eyebrow the jersey’s way. “You’re going to make that sparkly?”
“We are,” I say with a confident nod.
Luna’s eager eyes light up. “Can you do mine too?”
“Obviously.”
Later that day, after we geocache in Dolores Park—tracking down a Matchbox car in a tree, which Luna climbs like a little monkey to retrieve after Parker’s spotted it—I order a Lyft, since parking at the arena can be a huge pain, and take the kids to see the Sea Dogs.
Bedazzled.
But when we arrive, Luna and Parker tell me they want to hang out in the family suite instead of the stands.
Worry digs into me. Is that for wives and girlfriends and their kids? I’d be woefully out of place, wouldn’t I?
“Are you sure?” I ask.
“Yes! Mia’s always there now. Her dad pays for a sitter for every home game for all the kids, and it’s so fun. They have board games and everything. It’s kind of more fun than the stands,” she says.
“Not kind of. A lot,” Parker adds.
“Okay, let’s go there,” I say, but I’m still a little apprehensive about being there myself, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to just drop the kids off. But I can’t call Tyler and ask him. They’ll be starting warmups any second. My stomach twists with nerves, but then it hits me—I can call Tyler’s mom! She knows everything.
As I’m heading to the family suite, I ring Lauren Falcon and ask her if it’s okay that the kids stay there.
“Okay? It’s fabulous! Especially since I’m actually hanging out here with Harvey. The food’s better here, and we’re all about the snacks. Bring those monkeys my way.”
“Oh! Great!” I let out a relieved breath. That was serendipitous. I head over to the family suite and say hi to Lauren and her husband Harvey as I survey the spacious room. It’s a couple levels above the ice, but it’s stacked with food and fun. So I can see why the kids like it. And yes, there are some wives and girlfriends, and kids, but also parents of hockey players from the looks of it. I feel a little better about staying, even though I gaze at the ice longingly.
Lauren nods to it, giving me a knowing smile. “I’ve got this. You go enjoy the center-ice seats if you want.”
She’s such a mind reader. “Thanks. I do like being right near the boards.”
“Go, go,” she says, shooing me out.
I take off, then text my friends, who usually sit right near the center-ice seats Tyler gave me.
Leighton responds first, telling me to get my ass over there. When I make my way down the aisle toward their row, she eyes me up and down. She points to the back of my jersey, which she must have spotted as I maneuvered through the crowds.
“Well, hello, Rhinestones,” she says, smirking as she christens me with a nickname.
Isla arches a well-groomed brow. Everything about Isla is perfectly put together. “I’m thinking Squirrel. Squirrels love shiny things,” she says.
“True,” adds the redhead next to Isla. That’s Skylar—she works at the same podcast studio as Isla. Her show is design-centric, while Isla’s is a dating podcast. I’ve met Skylar a few times—she’s bold, outspoken, and resourceful. Exactly the type of person you’d call to help DIY your way through canning fruit or painting the front door. “But aren’t raccoons the ones really into shiny stuff?”
“Are you all saying I look like a raccoon in this?” I gesture to my very shiny, very bedazzled jersey.
“A razzle-dazzle raccoon,” Maeve chimes in as she arrives, proudly sporting her Mrs. Callahan jersey—a custom one her husband, Asher, made for her a couple seasons ago.
Right next to her is Josie, sliding into her seat. She adjusts her black-and-white glasses as she says warmly, “Actually, she’s a bowerbird.”
I whip my gaze to Josie, the librarian and resident collector of random facts. Josie has never met a topic she didn’t like to research.
“This is going to be good,” Maeve says, settling into her seat in the row ahead of us, so we’re taking up the first and second rows. The only ones from our girl gang who aren’t here are Everly, who’s busy working the game as the team publicist, and Fable, who texted that she was on her way.
“Male bowerbirds use shiny or colorful objects to decorate their bowers to attract mates,” Josie explains. “They collect things like bottle caps, pieces of glass—”
I raise a hand. “I think I speak for all of us when I ask: what the hell is a bower?”
Josie smooths a hand over her number sixteen jersey—for Wesley, her guy. “It’s a structure. Like a house, but fancier. The male builds it to court a mate.”
“So, basically,” Skylar cuts in with a gleam in her eyes, “a bowerbird would build you a house to get you to fuck him? Sounds like the perfect man. Another reason why I fully intend to take up birdwatching.”