I finish with the goalie and give strict instructions for Ibuprofen with alternating heat and ice as he heads out, wincing and telling me he’s not sure whether to propose marriage or curse my name. Seems about right.

Georg was so weird. It’s sweet that he came down to say hello or welcome or whatever, but he was so frigging awkward. It was kind of cute, I guess. I don’t know.

I head upstairs to meet Holly, who’s big belly looks hilarious on her skinny little body. Crazy lady still ran miles a day up until recently. She’s fitter than most non-pregnant ladies. Show-off. She pushes herself up from her chair, her little cubicle filled to the brim with photos of her and Evan now. They’ve made a little life together in a really short period of time. It’s sickening, really. Especially to women like me, who have no real interest in settling down or finding “the one” or whatever.

“How’s it going?” she asks, grabbing her purse.

“Good,” I say. “I really like the work a lot. Georg came down to say hello.”

Holly’s eyes go wide, and little smirk plays on her lips. “You ever going to tell me what happened between you two in LA?”

“My lips are sealed,” I say, as a gorgeous red-head wanders up.

“Hey, Holly?” the woman asks. “Before you go, could you approve this plan for pre-season on Snapchat?”

“I took a look at it earlier,” Holly says. “I’ve got some thoughts, but can I share them with you tomorrow? It’s nothing major but I want to brainstorm for a second.”

“Oh,” the woman says. “Okay, that’s fine. I was just hoping we could give it to Fiona tomorrow.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Holly says. “By the way…Scarlett, this is my very best friend in the whole world, Pam Jenson. Pam, this is Scarlett Woods.”

We shake hands. “Hey,” I say. “What do you do here?”

“I’m an interim communication team member,” she says. “I’ll be filling in for Holly while she’s on maternity leave.”

“Ah,” I say with a nod. “Cool.”

“And you?” she asks.

I take in her curvy figure and sky-high heels and perfect makeup. She’s pretty, I’ll give her that. But she seems unsure of herself, or her work or something. I guess being an interim anything would probably take a person down a peg professionally.

“I’m a physical therapist,” I say.

“Oooh,” she says with a smile. “Get to be hands-on with the players?”

I laugh. “Indeed I do,” I say. “It’s not a bad gig. I get to fix them and inflict pain. It’s like a non-sexual S&M shop.”

“Jesus, Pam,” Holly says with an eye-roll.

Scarlett just laughs. “I like her,” she says. “I mean, you married the hottest guy on the team so don’t pretend you didn’t notice the abundance of muscles around here.”

“Okay, time to go,” Holly says. “See you tomorrow, Scarlett. We’ll work on that plan first thing.”

We head out and down to the pub outside the arena. Holly orders a Sprite and complains of heartburn, then orders like three fried appetizers.

“Counterintuitive much?” I say after she orders, and the waitress walks away.

“Can’t help it. Baby wants fried cheese sticks,” she says. “And jalapeño poppers.”

“Yikes,” I say. “This is crap you wouldn’t have eaten if someone had paid you before you got pregnant.”

“I know,” she says with a cringe. “I don’t know, I just want it all the time now. Evan says I should let myself indulge every once in a while, so…”

“So, you’re loading up tonight, got it,” I say. “I won’t judge. As long as you don’t judge the giant margarita I’m going to drink.”

“Of course not,” she says. “So, you said Georg came down today?”

“He did,” I answer. “Didn’t seem to have a purpose. It was cute and awkward.”

“He likes you,” Holly says.

“He didn’t seem to like me at your wedding. And I haven’t heard a thing from him since LA, really.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean anything. I mean, I saw the way he looked at you in Colorado.”

“Like he wanted to chop me to bits and bury me in the back yard?” I ask.

“No, it was less stalker and more smolder. I saw it,” Holly says. She lifts her chin as if to defy me to argue with her. She’s feisty when she’s preggo.

“He smolders, no doubt,” I agree. “But if he wanted me, he’d have come and got me. Besides, he’s not long-term material anyway. He drinks way too much. He probably needs rehab.”

“That’s not a lie,” Holly says. “But what do you care about him being long-term material anyway? You kick dudes to the curb the minute they start to get serious.”

“My mother raised me well,” I say.

“Your mother is on her fifth husband,” Holly says.

“Your point?” I ask.

Scarlett wanders in as we’re talking. She walks over and says hello, and Holly scoots over, inviting her to sit for a minute. She looks relieved at the invitation, but says, “I don’t want to impose.”

“The more the merrier,” I say. “Pop a squat.”

“I was just going to pick something up to take home,” she says.

Holly shrugs. “We just ordered. Feel free to join us. I was just grilling my friend here on a visit she got from Georg Kolochev.”

“Oh, he’s super sexy,” Scarlett says. “That long hair. The scruff. He’s such a bad boy.”

“He’s bad alright,” I say sarcastically.

“Are you…dating?” Scarlett asks.

“No, definitely not,” I answer. “We hung out a time or two back in the spring. Besides, the non-fraternization policy and the nature of my job really mean I couldn’t date him even if I wanted to.”

Scarlett’s face falls. “Yes, you’re right. Of course. I mean…I wouldn’t step over a line. You know. I get it. Just looking. No touching.”

I don’t say it, but I want to get in this woman’s pretty face and tell her I don’t give a flying fart if she screws players – she just better stay away from Georg. I know he’s not mine, but the thought of him with someone else just…

“You okay there, Champ?” Holly asks, breaking me from my thoughts. “You look like you’re the one with heartburn.”

“Speaking of heartburn,” I say as the waitress comes back and unloads a tray worth of appetizers. I look at Scarlett and say, “She’s having grease for dinner tonight.”

“It’s just an appetizer,” Holly says as she stuffs a cheese stick into her mouth. Mouth full, she says, “I’m haffin’ dinner wif Eban later.”

I feel both of my eyebrows go high up on my forehead as I witness this madness. Holly does not shove cheese sticks in her face. She does not talk with her mouth full. And she does not stuff herself with junk before going to actual dinner. Pregnant women are weird.

“So, Fiona seems kind of severe?” Scarlett says.

Holly lets out a little huff. “She can be, but she’s a pro at media management. She just takes a while to warm up. Just do a good job and you’ll be fine.”

“That’s good advice,” Scarlett says. “I’m sure I won’t ever do as good a job as you have. I mean, I followed the Crush accounts all last season. You killed it. I applied for the communication specialist job mainly so I could learn from you.”

“That’s sweet,” Holly says. “It’s not brain surgery. Just be creative. The guys are mostly up for anything.”

“They seem like it,” Scarlett says. “And how do you manage their personal social media use? Like, do you integrate it at all?”

“Obviously not,” Holly says. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have pictures of players drinking shots from between a woman’s breasts, right?”

“Yeah,” Scarlett says. “I guess not.”

“They have the right to have their own online presence. The only time we get involved is if there’s something illegal or borderline–and usually the guys will take whatever it is right down.”

“Georg Kolochev’s account…” Scarlett says.

“Tell me about it,” Holly says with a sigh. “He hasn’t posted in a while but most of his stuff is party, party, party.”

“Is it true he’s an alcoholic?” Scarlett asks.

“That’s probably none of your business,” I bark.

Both women stare at me from across the table, looks of shock on their faces.

“I don’t mean…I mean, I’m sorry if I…”

“I’m just saying that we shouldn’t make assumptions about people. And we shouldn’t judge them just because they have pictures of themselves partying on Instagram,” I say.

Scarlett nods, looks at her phone, and says, “Oh, well, I’d better be going. Thanks for letting me hang.”

Scarlett leaves in a hurry and Holly just stares at me, a look of mild amusement on her face.

“Jealous much?” my friend asks. “You bit her head off.”

“She’s annoying,” I say.

“Man, you are a crank today,” Holly says. “Have another drink. Chill out.”

“I mean, there’s a policy. We can’t date the players,” I say, as if this is even remotely connected to why I was so mean to Scarlett.

Holly opens her mouth but then shuts it again. She reaches out and grabs some fried nonsense and pops it in her mouth.

“I like him, Holly,” I finally say. “But I just don’t think it could work. I’m, well, me. For one. And for two, he’s Georg. We’re on two different ships, sailing in different directions.”

“Two ships, sailing in different directions?” she repeats. “What kind of horse manure is that?”

I grin and shrug. “Change of subject. I need to know if you and Evan still do it while you’re preggers, and if so, how is it possible?”

“That’s a very personal question, Pamela,” she says. She eats another cheese stick. “But since you’re my very best friend, I will simply say that we do indeed make love and that it requires some ingenuity from a logistics perspective.”

“Aren’t you worried he’ll, like, poke the baby?” I ask.

“Do you even know a single thing about human biology?” Holly asks, throwing a piece of food at me.

Truth be told, I know a lot about biology. There are many other things I don’t know about, though. Relationships. Sex. Long-term commitment.

Guess I’d better get on the ball, huh?