Chapter Twenty-Three
Roman
The air in the room is tense, and I hate it, but I don’t know how to fix it. I’m trying to be positive, to enjoy the last night I have with Nico, but all the good thoughts are getting pushed out by the fact I’ll never see him again. At least no more than photos online or performances on TV.
It’s possible I could see him when I travel to Canada for games, but we’d have to plan.
I don’t play in Montreal, but I get close.
I don’t know if he travels to the US for anything.
All the figure skating stuff he does is based in Canada.
This isn’t a simple across-state-lines situation.
This isn’t I’ll fly to see you a few weekends a month.
This is across borders. Another country.
This is passports and in-depth planning. It’s not so simple.
He turns to face me, a sad smile on his face. “I hate this.”
I breathe out a sigh of relief at finally knowing it isn’t only me.
“Me too.”
Nico steps closer, taking my hand again and bringing it to his lips.
He presses a soft, warm kiss to my palm, then looks up at me but says nothing.
I can’t speak past the lump in my throat, so I stay quiet too.
When he steps toward me, his body warms mine, and I lean down to kiss him.
It’s soft but urgent. We both know what tonight is, and neither of us wants to speak on it.
Maybe it’s better that way. To let this fade out, rather than extinguish it like the flame.
We make our way to my bedroom, the door closing behind us and our clothes coming off in a mess. I don’t know how long we have, but I can’t imagine it’s all night, as much as I wish it was. We both have flights in the morning. We both have to pack and prepare for our trips.
At least I have his phone number.
Nico and I spend the next hour making love to each other, in a way I didn’t think was possible. It’s slow and sweet and something I will never, not even if I tried, forget.
I kiss every inch of him, and he returns the gesture, for once, going slow and savoring our time together, rather than the frenzied situation it usually is.
We lie together in my bed, him crushed to my side with his head resting on my shoulder, and his hand flat on my chest, right over my heart.
Emotion clogs my throat, but if I don’t speak now, I won’t be able to later.
Not when it’s time for him to leave and I have to actually say goodbye.What I want to get off my chest needs to happen right this minute, because the closer it gets to us having to part ways, the harder it will be.
“When I came here,” I begin. “I never thought I’d be so close to winning the gold. I’m grateful I had this opportunity, but I’m even more grateful I got to meet you.”
He squeezes me a little tighter, and I continue, needing to say the hardest part. The part that will let him know that this means something to me, more than just an Olympic fling.
“I’m happy for you. I’m proud of you. And I just…” I sigh. “I want you to know that even though I’m not leaving with a gold medal, you have made me feel like I won anyway.”
“Roman…”
“I’m sorry if that’s cheesy, but it’s the truth, and I take pride in my honesty.”
He nods against me but says nothing.
Now’s his chance to tell me he feels the same, that this could be something, that we could try. That even though it’ll be really hard, we could figure it out together.
He doesn’t, though, and that’s answer enough for me.
I don’t like being aloof, but I do like being relaxed about situations.
Ending this is going to hurt, but if what we did is all he wanted out of it, then I’ll give him that.
Whatever he wants.
I’m woken up sometime later. Nico is still holding on to me like a koala, and through the dark, I see his eyes wide open and looking at me.
“I have to go,” he whispers.
I nod, unable to speak once again. I’m not sure what I would say if I could anyway.
Don’t go?
Stay with me?
Move to the US?
None of that is possible and I know it. So, I don’t even try.
He doesn’t move, just keeps staring at me. I don’t let him go. I’m not ready for this.
I don’t know how long it is we stay like that, staring at each other. I wait for him to say something, and when he doesn’t, I know for certain what this means.
This is done.
That’s okay.
It has to be.
He pushes up, hovering his body over mine as he leans down to kiss me, long and hard.
He’s quiet as he gets up and finds his clothes, pulling them on. He stands in the doorway, hand around the knob, and watches me for a long moment.
My throat is so tight I can hardly breathe. I can’t bring myself to say goodbye.
He says nothing as he walks out the door.
I hold my breath, hoping like hell that he’ll come back in.
Just one more kiss.
One more hug.
One more word.
But I hear the front door open and close and I know… I just know that he’s gone.