Chapter 42
CECILIA
“Holy fuck,” I say, and it comes out somewhere between a laugh and a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
We’re back at Isabella’s hotel, and of course it’s the most opulent suite I’ve seen in my life. I don’t remember the walk or deciding to come here or who suggested it.
I just remember her hand on mine at the rink, not letting go as we walked out.
She closes the door behind us, and I don’t move. I simply stand there, looking at her.
And it’s different now.
Not the same as the locker room. Not the same as before, in her cozy house with her judgmental cat.
“Holy fuck,” I say again. There’s no urgency in my words, no rush to make up or try to take back the words we said before. “You were right.”
“Yeah,” she replies quietly, her mouth lifting just slightly at the corner, like she knows exactly what I mean even if I didn’t say anything else.
I drag a hand down my face and let out a breath that relaxes me, resets me, my body finally catching up to the past five hours.
“Jesus, Princess. That was…” I start, then shake my head because there isn’t a word that fits what just happened, not one that doesn’t feel like it’s missing something important.
“Completely unhinged?” she offers.
I huff out a laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”
The way Isabella is looking at me now isn’t searching or uncertain, isn’t trying to figure out what this is or where it’s going.
It’s steady.
And my body responds, not in panic this time but in recognition of what that look means, if I let myself believe it.
I take a slow step in her direction. Giving her time to move away if she wants to, to change her mind and step back into something easier than this.
“Are you okay?” I ask, almost in a whisper, because this is all that matters and everything else can wait if the answer is no.
She nods once, her gaze not leaving mine. Those icy blue eyes are shining, even in the low light of the suite, and I can see it. The meaning of this.
“I’m better now,” she says.
I let out a small breath and close the rest of the distance between us, my hand finding her arm first, then sliding up to her shoulder, slower this time, more intentional than anything that came before.
“We should probably talk about—” I start.
She shakes her head, a barely there movement that makes her look shy and restrained. “We will,” she says. “I’m not avoiding it.”
I hold her gaze, searching for any sign that she’s deflecting, that this is just another version of stepping around something until it becomes easier.
It’s not, I know that.
“I meant what I said,” I add after a second, because I really can’t control it, and we really should have this conversation as soon as possible. My voice is quiet but steadier than it’s been all day. “About the job.”
Isabella’s expression doesn’t change.
Not out of dismissal, simply because she’s listening.
“I know,” she replies matter-of-factly.
“I’m still going,” I continue, because this matters. There is no version of me where I’m walking this back just to make things easier for us. Even if we do decide to be together after this, I still need to think about my career and my athlete’s success, no matter what. “I’m not… passing that up.”
“I wouldn’t want you to, Ceci,” she replies immediately.
It’s a clean admission, and there’s not a single trace of hesitation in her voice. My chest finally, finally loosens, and it’s more relieving than I ever expected it to be. It feels almost dangerous, because of how much I needed to hear that without realizing it.
“Honestly, babe,” she adds, taking a step in my direction. Her eyes are shining now, and the difference between the woman she is right now and what I just witnessed at the rink in front of her parents is wild. “Anyone who is willing to move to Bumfuck, Wyoming to be closer to me—”
“It’s a great program!” I argue, and she laughs, tilting her head back and closing her eyes. Her body is chasing mine, one step at a time. “And Rodrigo is coming with me until the Olympics.”
“That’s incredible,” she says, a full grin on her face.
“I’m not walking away from this,” I add, and now there’s no hesitation at all, no second-guessing, no softening of the statement to make it easier to accept.
I’m hoping my expression can tell her how serious I am.
Even if she’s right—no one would move to Wyoming if they weren’t serious about things.
“Good.” Her gaze sharpens.
I let out a breath that almost turns into a laugh again, but it doesn’t quite make it there, because the moment feels too steady, too grounded and serious and life-altering to break like that.
“So what are we doing?” I ask.
A real, honest question.
She steps closer, and I can feel her breath now, the space between us narrowing infinitesimally, totally familiar and completely new at the same time.
“This,” she says simply.
And then she kisses me. Slowly and intentionally.
Like she’s making a decision and letting me feel it at the same time.
My hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and she lets me, leaning into it easily.
The kiss softens almost immediately after that, losing the sharp edges and the urgency of everything that came before tonight.
There’s no desperation to catch up after two weeks apart or drown out the noise from outside this room.
Just her mouth moving against mine, familiar already in a way that feels terrifying.
We’re still standing in the middle of the room, close enough that her hands are resting loosely at my waist and I can feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of my shirt.
I let out a slow breath and rest my forehead briefly against hers, trying to calm the strange, overwhelming fullness sitting in my chest.
“Your family is genuinely insane,” I murmur.
Isabella huffs out a laugh against my mouth.
“Yeah,” she replies softly. “That’s been my professional opinion for several years.”
I laugh too, quieter this time, and the sound settles between us in gentle, soothing waves.
For a long moment, we just stay there, tangled together in the center of the room while the hotel buzzes around us beyond the walls.
She shifts, just a little bit, enough that I can see her expression properly.
“What?” I ask quietly.
Her fingers tighten once at my waist before relaxing again.
“I don’t really know how people do this part,” she admits.
I blink once.
“What part?”
A faint smile touches her mouth, nervous and terrified, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen on Isabella Pierce before, even at the peak of her career when the stakes were high.
“This.” She lifts one shoulder, and it’s the least casual thing I’ve witnessed in my life.
All the intention is put into that single muscle movement.
“I think I need to find a way to introduce you that is not ‘the hot coach I’m secretly in love with.’ People are going to think I’m obsessed with you. ”
I stare at her for half a second before a laugh escapes me. “You were secretly in love with me?”
Her expression immediately flattens. “Cecilia.”
“Oh my god.” I press a hand dramatically to my chest. “The Ice Princess had a crush on me.”
“You are making this significantly harder than it needs to be.”
I grin despite myself, because watching Isabella Pierce lose control of a conversation she initiated might genuinely be one of my favorite experiences on Earth.
“Sorry,” I say, still smiling. “Please proceed.”
“First,” she says on an exhale, visibly regrouping, “I would like to apologize for my reaction when you told me about the job. Honestly, I thought you would come work with me. Nina drafted a job offer to present to you at the Grand Prix in France in November.”
“I— What?”
“Let me finish.” She looks directly at me again, so steady it almost undoes me. “I want you in my life. In an actual way. It’s very convenient that you are incredibly good at your job, too. But that’s not why I want you in my life, of course.”
Every sarcastic thought leaves my body immediately.
“And I know we still have so many things to figure out,” she continues, softer now. “The jobs. Wyoming. The Olympics. All of it. But none of that changes the fact that I am very, very in love with you.”
Jesus fuck.
I can actually feel my heartbeat in my throat.
“And,” she adds, and now there’s the faintest hint of doubt under her voice, “I would like you to be my girlfriend.”
I stare at her for a second too long because this woman is standing in front of me after publicly detonating her family and still somehow looks more nervous asking me this than she did during any of that.
“Yes,” I say immediately. Then, because apparently I’ve lost all dignity permanently, “Obviously yes.”
Her entire face softens. Her impeccable posture falters, like something finally, finally unclenched.
I move before I really think about it, taking two steps until I’m tackling her onto the couch, my hands sliding up into her hair as I kiss her slowly this time, carefully, because suddenly this feels frighteningly precious.
When I pull back, she’s still looking at me with that same expression.
“What?” I whisper.
“You said obviously.”
I laugh softly against her mouth.
“Princess, please.” I kiss the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the soft skin under her ear. “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed how in love I am with you, too.”