Chapter Fifteen #2
For the next hour, we watch twenty-four kids demonstrate everything they've learned.
Marcus shows off his hockey stop to a crowd that includes his grandparents, who drove three hours to watch him skate.
Lucy performs a simple jump sequence that earns enthusiastic applause from everyone in the arena.
Emma leads a group of younger kids through basic balance exercises with the confidence of someone who's discovered she's good at helping others succeed.
But the real demonstration isn't just the skating skills—it's the way these kids interact with each other and with us. The way they help each other up when someone falls. And the way they look at Sophia and me like we're a team they can count on.
"This program," Morrison announces to the gathered crowd, "will be expanding next semester to include additional age groups and skill levels.
The university is also pleased to announce the establishment of the Turner-Gable Youth Athletics Fund, which will provide scholarships for families who want to participate but face financial barriers. "
I watch Sophia's expression as she realizes what I've done. Not just organized a showcase, but worked with the university to create something permanent. Something that will exist beyond our time as students, something that bears both our names because this has always been a partnership.
"The Turner-Gable Fund?" she whispers.
"I figured if we're going to build something together, it should have both our names on it."
"But the funding—how did you—"
"Turns out, when you explain to people that you're trying to create opportunities for kids to learn confidence and teamwork, they want to help.
My parents made the first donation. Coach Shanahan got the hockey team to contribute.
Your figure skating club raised money through a car wash last weekend. "
"My figure skating club?"
"I may have talked to Sarah about organizing a fundraiser. I hope that's okay."
She stares at me, and I can see her processing everything—the scope of what I've organized, the permanence of what we've created, the fact that I've spent the last week not pulling away from our partnership but investing in it more deeply than ever before.
"Matt," she says quietly, "this is incredible. But why didn't you just talk to me?"
"Because," I say, "I needed to prove something to myself before I could explain it to you. I needed to prove that I could fight for us instead of just accommodating everyone else's opinions about us."
"And what did you prove?"
"I proved that when I stop being afraid of disappointing people and start focusing on what I actually believe in, I can build something worth keeping.
" I take both her hands. "I believe in this program.
I believe in these kids and in us. And I'm not going to let anyone—not my parents, not Mrs. Henderson, not my own fear of making choices that matter—convince me to give up on the best thing that's ever happened to me. "
"Which is?"
"You, Sophia. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. Not just because I love you, but because you make me want to be the kind of person who builds things instead of just showing up where expected."
She's quiet for a long moment, watching the kids skate and listening to the sounds of families celebrating their children's progress.
"I love you too," she says finally. "But Matt, I need to know that you're choosing this—choosing us—because it's what you actually want, not because you feel guilty about hurting my feelings."
"I'm choosing us because the alternative is unthinkable. Because the last four days without you have been the longest four days of my life. And when I imagine my future, every version that matters has you in it."
"Even the versions that involve law school and medical school and figuring out careers that might take us to different cities?"
"Especially those versions. Because if we can turn a territorial dispute over ice time into a permanent youth program that twenty-four families love, I'm pretty sure we can figure out how to make long-distance work while we're building our careers."
"That's optimistic."
"I'm an optimistic guy. Plus, I have secret weapon."
"Which is?"
"You. Your organizational skills, your ability to plan for contingencies, your spreadsheets for tracking everything." I grin. "If anyone can create a systematic approach to maintaining a relationship across geographical distance, it's Sophia Turner."
She laughs—the real laugh that means I've gotten through to her. "You want me to create a systematic approach to long-distance dating?"
"I want you to create a systematic approach to building a life together that acknowledges both of our ambitions and both of our needs. I want us to be partners in everything, not just skating instruction."
"Partners in everything," she repeats, testing the words.
"Partners in everything. The good stuff, the complicated stuff, the stuff that requires compromise and creativity and probably a lot of spreadsheets."
"I do love a good spreadsheet."
"I know you do. And I love that you love spreadsheets."
She steps closer, and I can see the moment when her walls come down completely. "Matt?"
"Yeah?"
"Next time you want to prove something important to yourself, maybe we could prove it together instead of you disappearing for a week and scaring me into thinking you were going to choose your family's approval over our relationship."