Page 37 of Canadian Boyfriend

I shrugged. I was too tired of fighting to object. “If I got mad, we’d just have the same argument we just had about the insurance.”

He smirked. “Well, that’s my big confession. I figure I can’t insist on honesty and then have this lie hanging between us.”

This lie hanging between us.I should tell him. This would be the logical point to tell him.

I did not tell him.

One thing I hadn’t expected about living with Mike Martin and Olivia was that they fought. A lot.

Well, Olivia fought. Mike Martin just took it. He laid down the law on stuff that had to happen, like homework, but other times, she was downright mean to him and he let it slide.

Which was fine, seeing as it was none of my business. But I could see how capable she was of wounding him. The way she called him Mike at home when he was Dad out in the world was so… shitty, really.

I had feared being the third wheel, worried that things would be awkward. They weren’t. We’d segued easily into being roommates. They left me alone when I was downstairs, but we all hung out a fair bit when Mike Martin was home. We had fun. We watchedLittle House. We skated, often with Lauren and Ivan. We played fetch with Earl 9, which meant tossing a chew toy shaped like a human mouth. Earl 9 would fetch it and rollback with it in his mouth. And I’m sorry, but there is no mood that can’t be improved by the sight of a dog with human teeth rolling toward you radiating joy.

But when Mike Martin and Olivia fought, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I tried to stay out of the way, but sometimes I couldn’t avoid them. Like now, when we had to leave for class. In a moment of probably misplaced optimism, I had followed through with my schedule shuffle at the studio, and today was my first day doing Olivia’s Saturday class.

“I’msickof hockey,” Olivia was saying—sneering—as I came upstairs from the basement to the kitchen.

“I thought you liked coming to games.”

“Well, you thoughtwrong.”

Mike Martin glanced at me and smiled weakly. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I answered warily.

“Olivia doesn’t want to come to the game tomorrow.”

Mike Martin had been trying all season to get Olivia to come to a game, which I gathered she used to do all the time, but she’d been refusing. “She can stay with me,” I offered, not sure if I was undercutting him. I leaned down to pet Earl 9, who had come over to greet me. He tended to seek me out when Mike Martin and Olivia were fighting, and I was not too proud to accept the love I got when his number one and number two humans were busy.

“Not your job,” Mike Martin said. We seemed to have come to an understanding about me not taking a wage, but it had resulted in him being extrascrupulous about not leaning on me when he was home.

“You know, I’ve never been to a hockey game,” I said, trying to change the subject.

“You want to come?” Mike Martin asked at the same time that Olivia said, incredulously, “Never?”

“I know, right?” I said to Olivia. “It’s strange for a Minnesotan, but nope. Hockey’s just… not my thing, historically.” I looked at Mike Martin and felt guilty.

He turned his attention to Olivia. “If you don’t want to come, we can see if you can spend the evening at Sophia’s. Lauren will be at the game, so that’s pretty much your only option.” Sophia was a friend of Olivia’s from school. Her parents were a little annoying—whenever I dropped off or picked up Olivia, they asked personal questions, as if they thought I was Mike Martin’s new girlfriend. But I was glad Olivia had friends. Not having friends could mess you up.

“Nope,” Olivia said. “I changed my mind. I think I should take Rory to her first hockey game.”

Mike Martin blinked, probably taking a moment to adjust to the abrupt change in stance, and shot me a questioning look.

“Sounds like fun.” I was excited to see him in action, if his lake skating was indicative of what a game would be like. There was something about that power, the way it was so tightly leashed, then let out in huge yet controlled bursts of speed.

“Can we sit behind the glass?” Olivia asked. “Or do we have to sit with Lauren?” She turned to me. “The WAGs usually sit in a private box.”

“WAGs?”

“Wives and girlfriends,” she said matter-of-factly.

I laughed. “Did you make that up?”

“No!” Olivia said.

“It’s a real thing,” Mike Martin confirmed.

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