“Of course.”
“In early August, before practices start, I run a charity exhibition hockey game. This will be my eighth year. Since we’re the team in the celebrity mecca of the universe, it’s Hollywood stars vs. pros. People get a kick out of it, and you’d be surprised how many celebrities are die-hard hockey fans and get into it. All of the money from ticket sales and advertising revenue goes to the National Alzheimer’s Foundation. Both my mother and Miles’s father had the horrible disease.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’d love to be part of it.”
“Good. I’ll have my assistant send you the dates and some free tickets for Georgia or anyone you want to invite.”
“Sounds good.”
We looked back over to the greenhouse. Celia sipped her wine and smiled. “I’m afraid you won’t be seeing your Georgia for a while. People always assume the flower garden is mine, not my husband’s. I guess it’s a strange combination. His passions are his beloved hockey team and flowers. Once Miles gets someone into his greenhouse, he talks their ear off for at least a half hour.”
I smiled. “Roses are Georgia’s thing. She won’t mind.”
Celia motioned to the furniture behind us. “Why don’t we have a seat?” After we got comfortable, she smiled. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but it’s nice that Georgia has a thing. I’ve seen a lot of wives and girlfriends move out here with their significant others. Some give up their career, and some are young and didn’t establish their own career before jumping into the hockey lifestyle with their partner. But the ones that last, at least from what I’ve seen, are the ones where the partner has something important of their own to tend to. As you know, players are on the road half the year. Many start out with their partner following along to every city, and that’s fun for a while. But it starts to lose its luster, or kids come and the constant travel isn’t feasible anymore. Don’t get me wrong, kids are a full-time job. But a woman who has her own thing, something she’s passionate about, that helps them keep their identity. Trust me, it’s very easy to become a Mrs. Gibson or Mrs. Yearwood and forget you’re also a Celia or a Georgia.”
I nodded. “I get it.”
“Georgia’s headquarters are on the East Coast, right?”
“New York.”
“Is she planning on moving out here with you?”
“No, she’s not.”
“When Miles and I first met, I’d just opened my own real estate brokerage firm in Chicago. I’d worked for a company for six years and wanted to expand into property management, which my old company didn’t do. I took three of my real estate agent friends with me and hung out a shingle with only enough money to pay my rent and their salaries for three months. So it was sink or swim, but I loved every minute of the hustle.” She smiled. “I met Miles at a party. We went out a few times when he was in town, but he was a busy man, so it wasn’t that often. At some point, he asked me if I’d consider moving to California where his business was located, in order to give things a real shot. I asked him if he would consider moving to Chicago, where mine was located. Needless to say, we hit a stalemate.”
“How did you work it out?”
“We didn’t at first. We split up for six months. Eventually he showed up at my office and asked me where I did my negotiating. I showed him into the conference room, and we brokered a deal. He bought an apartment in Chicago, and we split our time—four days a week in one city and three in the other. It was doable because I could shift all my showings and in-person things to fill up a few days and save my office work for the days I was in California.”
“How long did that last?”
She sipped her wine. “A few years. I actually fell in love with Southern California. There’s no comparison in December, that’s for sure. So I decided to move, but I didn’t give up my Chicago office. I just promoted an agent to manage the day-to-day things there and expanded into California. I only sold the brokerage a few years back.” She smiled. “It was my thing.”
Too bad long distance was the least of the problems with Georgia and me. I liked Celia, but I wasn’t about to go into detail and explain the rest of the shit we had going on. She actually reminded me of Georgia in some ways, which was why I knew the best way to manage this conversation was to agree and steer it away from a debate of any sort.
So I nodded. “We both have a lot to think about in the coming months.”
• • •
“Fifty-Seventh Street?” The driver looked in the rearview mirror.
Georgia and I hadn’t talked about our plans once we landed back in New York. But I wanted her in my bed—that wasn’t a question for me. So I turned to her. “My place?”
“I think I need to go home. I have an early meeting tomorrow that I need to prep for, and I don’t even have my laptop with me. You’re welcome to stay at my place.”
“Can’t. I didn’t book the dog sitters for tonight. Plus, I’ve been neglecting them.”
Georgia nodded. “We could both use some actual sleep anyway. Neither of us tends to get much when we share a bed.”
I grinned. “I’ll take fucking you and being tired over sleeping alone any day.”
The driver was still waiting for an answer. Georgia gave me the wide-eyed, silent shut-up warning. I chuckled and leaned forward to give him her address.
“Thanks for coming this weekend.” I leaned back and took her hand.
“I’m glad I came. I had fun. And I can check be spontaneous off my list of things to work on.”
“Maggie had to get you liquored up and talk you into it.” I shrugged. “But yeah, let’s go with spontaneous.”
She laughed. “Well, it’s spontaneous for me. What are your plans for this week?”
“I have a meeting with my business manager tomorrow, I think. Tuesday I have to go up to Providence, Rhode Island, for a photo shoot.”
“More underwear that you’ll have to fluff up your bulge with a contraption?” She grinned.
“No, thank God. It’s a cologne ad. Depending on how late it goes, I might go by my brother’s in Boston for a quick visit. I haven’t decided if I’m flying or driving yet. What about you?”
“The usual…tons of meetings, emails, production scheduling. I also have to take a ride out to our distribution center in Jersey City this week. We’re getting our first shipment of inventory for some new products, so I want to go make sure everything comes in at the quality we ordered. We’re also having some billboards put up the next day along the Jersey Turnpike, so I might ask Maggie to come and take a ride to see how those look after.”
“Will you have time for dinner one night?”
Her face softened. “I’ll make time.”
When we pulled up at her apartment, I told the driver to give me fifteen minutes so I could walk her up. I grabbed both our bags from the trunk and started to follow her, but after seeing her ass in those yoga pants, I asked her to give me a minute and jogged back to the driver.
“Do you have to pick up someone else?”