Chapter 47 #3
Helen glanced up from her phone again, enough to suggest she was paying attention more closely.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “This is hypothetical, okay?”
Mark nodded solemnly. “Hypothetical questions are my favorite kind.” Then he tilted his head to one side. “If the partner you’re thinking about isn’t traditional, the biggest challenge won’t be technical.”
Dean groaned. “I really don’t like where this conversation is going.”
“You weren’t invited,” Mark told him.
He gaped. “I am literally standing right here.”
Mark waved that aside, then focused on me. “The technical side can be solved. Skating problems usually can.”
“What about everything else?” I asked.
Mark glanced toward Helen, and the look they exchanged lasted barely a second.
Helen pocketed her phone. “If you’re asking whether the sport is ready for certain questions, the answer is probably no.”
That wasn’t particularly surprising.
She continued before anyone could respond. “The better question is whether somebody is willing to ask them anyway.”
Mark looked at me as though he was evaluating an idea, testing its weight.
Finally he smiled. “Give me a challenge—give any coach a challenge—and immediately we start wondering how to beat it.” He rubbed his chin. “It would certainly make things interesting.”
Dean closed his eyes. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”
Mark appeared delighted. “Good.”
Listening to them argue about something that hadn’t even happened yet, I realized I was already looking forward to finding out.
Dean
By the time we left the restaurant, Milan had settled into evening.
The streets were still busy, cafés spilling light onto the pavement, people lingering over wine and conversation.
After the last two weeks, a quiet dinner with Luka felt luxurious. No teammates, no coaches, no federations—no pizza.
That last one had made a significant impression.
“I know we had dinner with your parents, but I still cannot believe the two of us sat down and ordered food that was not delivered in a cardboard box,” Luka mused. “We had cutlery. Actual plates. I had dessert.”
He slipped his hand into mine as we walked, the movement so natural now that neither of us really thought about it.
“You had two desserts.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That is slander.”
“I watched you eat them, Luka.”
“You cannot prove a thing.”
I stopped walking long enough to kiss him. When I pulled back, Luka looked too pleased with himself.
“I think that means I win.”
I had to laugh. “You’ve never understood how winning works.”
“I literally have two Olympic medals.”
Luka had been smiling all day, not constantly, but enough that I kept noticing.
My parents had noticed it too. They’d spent most of the afternoon alternating between hugging Luka and offering increasingly impractical suggestions about Colorado.
Mom had apparently decided within twenty minutes that he wasn’t allowed to live in an apartment on his own.
Dad had immediately begun discussing skating facilities.
Luka had somehow survived both of them.
We’d gone with them to the airport that afternoon, and Mom had extracted promises from both of us that we’d go over for dinner once Luka was settled.
“They really are happy, aren’t they?”
I glanced at him. “My parents?”
He nodded. “About me going to America to train.”
I laughed. “They adore you.”
The city moved around us. People passed by. A tram rattled through the intersection ahead.
And I was standing in the middle of Milan, kissing Luka Davorin.
I lifted our joined hands and pressed a kiss against his fingers. “My parents are very good at loving people, and they will love you.”
Something in his expression told me he was still trying to get used to the idea.
I brushed my thumb across the back of his hand. “You don’t have to do anything to earn that love.”
Luka leaned against my shoulder. “I think me loving their son makes it easier.”
Luka
I loved the golden glow that hung around Milan at night.
This city has given me the best and worst moments of my life within the space of a few days.
We walked in comfortable silence.
Tomorrow would arrive soon enough, bringing so much with it: the flight, lawyers, paperwork, everything waiting for me on the other side of the Atlantic.
Dean’s thumb moved across my knuckles in a slow graze.
“About the pairs thing.”
I smiled. “Yes?”
“You know that’s completely insane.”
“Probably.”
“I’m being serious. The ISU states that pairs means one male, one female.”
“I know.”
“And you’re ready to challenge them on that?”
I bit my lip. “Not right away. I might wait a few years.” I grinned. “I was thinking 2030? Nice?”
Dean laughed. “Good.”
I arched my eyebrows. “Good?”
“For a moment there you had me worried. I thought you’d started making sensible decisions.”
The city lights were coming on across Milan now, windows brightening one by one against the deepening blue.
Tomorrow there would be flights and lawyers and federation statements and more complications than either of us could count.
Tonight, Dean’s hand was in mine.
That was enough.