Chapter Eighteen
Blatant Penalty
I freeze, like a snowman in the dead of winter, unable to move or even speak.
Did I just say what I think I just said?
Yeah, I did. Regan is gawking at me wide-eyed and obviously shocked at the words I spoke.
Marry me. That's what I said, and I can't blame Regan for looking like she might pass out from the sheer horror of my sudden declaration.
Shit. I've really fucked it up this time, haven't I?
Regan's face shifts from shock to something I can't quite read---panic, maybe? She steps back slightly, her skates scraping on the ice in a sound that suddenly seems deafening. The crowd has moved on to watching the next skater, but we're frozen in our own little bubble of awkwardness.
"Mike, um," she finally says, her voice barely audible over the music that's started for the next performance.
Before she can continue, Bohdan sneaks up beside me like some kind of figure skating ninja. "Regan, lapochka, they need you backstage. "Final bow with all skaters. Now."
She seems almost relieved for the interruption and squeezes my hand. "I have to go, Mike."
Regan skates away.
And just like that, she's gone, leaving me to stand here like an idiot, gripping the barrier with both hands. All I can do is watch her glide away.
"What did you say to her?" Bohdan asks, his accent thicker than usual, which only happens when he's really pissed or really concerned. I'm guessing it's both right now.
"I, uh...proposed."
Dad jogs up alongside me. He claps me on the back hard enough I stumble forward. "You did WHAT, Mike?"
"Not now, Dad."
"Yes now, Mike. You just proposed to your girlfriend of---what is it, six months?---in the middle of her professional exhibition?" His voice drops to a harsh whisper. "At least tell me you have a ring."
I squeeze my eyes shut briefly, feeling the weight of my dad's disappointment stacking on top of my own realization that I've just royally screwed up what should have been one of the most important moments of our relationship.
"No, Dad. I don't have a ring." I rub my eyes as if that will help. "The words just...came out."
"Came out?" Bohdan repeats. "Important words like this do not simply 'come out,' football man. They are meant to be planned and considered."
If I could crawl under the ice, I would. The next skater is midway through his routine, and here I am, having the most humiliating conversation of my life while spectators nearby are starting to give us curious looks.
"Can we not do this right now?" I plead, glancing around. "Let's just go backstage or something."
Bohdan shakes his head, muttering something in Ukrainian that I'm pretty sure translates to "idiot American." My dad grabs my arm, steering me away from the rink and through the crowd of spectators. Thankfully, they're too engrossed in the current performance to notice my personal meltdown.
Dad hisses out a breath. "Son, I love you, but what the hell were you thinking?"
"No thinking involved. That's the problem." I run my hands through my hair, probably making it stand up in every direction. "I saw Regan out there, being amazing and beautiful, and the words just spilled out like verbal diarrhea."
My father's expression proves he's pissed. "Proposals don't just happen. They're planned. They're special. Your mother would kill you if she knew."
"Please don't tell Mom." The thought of my mother finding out about this embarrasses me even more than this moment itself. "She'll never let me live it down."
Bohdan joins us, aiming his laser-sharp gaze at me. "Where is the ring?"
As if that's the biggest issue here.
"I don't have one yet." I wipe a hand over my mouth. "I didn't plan this, but I intend to marry Regan if she'll have me. One problem, though. I have no idea where she's gone."
My dad shakes his head. "You damn well better find her and fix this. We love Regan too, ya know."
"Yeah, everybody loves her. She's incredible---as a person, as a figure skater, everything." I bow my head, knowing how badly I've screwed up. "I've got no frigging idea how to fix this."
"What is wrong with you?" Bohdan demands, jabbing a finger into my chest. "Regan has worked for months on this exhibition. This was her moment to shine, and you make it about yourself? Did no one tell you a proposal requires a ring?"
He's right. Today was Regan's big day, and I just hijacked it with my impulsive bullshit.
"I don't know what I was thinking," I admit, the weight of Bohdan's accusation settling over me like a heavy blanket. "You're right. I totally fucked up her moment."
"Yes. You did," Bohdan concurs. His disappointment somehow stings worse than my dad's. "She has worked so hard, through pain, through doubt. And now, this is what people will remember."
I wince. The thought of stealing Regan's thunder makes me feel like the world's biggest asshole. I need to find her, but I have no clue where to start in this massive arena.
"Where would she go?" I ask Bohdan, hoping he knows his athlete well enough to point me in the right direction.
He crosses his arms like he's considering whether I deserve the information. After what feels like an eternity, he sighs. "Warm-up area, perhaps. Or the women's locker room. But I suggest you give her space. She needs to finish the exhibition. All skaters will take final bows together."
"Right. Yeah. Space," I mumble, already looking around for signs pointing to the backstage area. "I'll just wait until after the show."
My dad puts a firm hand on my shoulder. "Son, I think you should consider what you're going to say to her very carefully. This isn't a situation where you can just wing it."
"I know, Dad. I love her, I want to marry her, and I picked the absolute worst moment to tell her so."
Bohdan sighs, and his usual stern expression has grown softer. "At least you are aware of the mistake you made. I'm certain you realize you must make amends."
"Oh yeah, believe me, I'm aware of that now."
I jog toward the warm-up area, hoping to find Regan, but she isn't there. So, I head for the women's locker room, knocking on the door as politely as possible. "Uh, Regan? You in there?"
No answer. Karma really is a bitch.
A woman in a sparkly purple costume exits, looking me up and down with squinted eyes. I might as well have the word "CREEP" tattooed on my forehead.
"Are you sure Regan Banks isn't in there?" I ask, hoping to sound as non-threatening as possible. "I'm looking for her, and Bohdan Fedorenko suggested I might find her here. She's my girlfriend."
The woman's expression softens a little, and she bites her lip. "Not sure if I should tell you, but..."
"Please, tell me. I'll beg if necessary."
She blows out a sigh. "Yeah, she's in there all alone."
"Thanks. Could you tell her Mike is out here?" I shift my weight from one foot to the other. "I really need to talk to her."
The woman squints at me but then aims a sympathetic look my way. "She specifically said she doesn't want to see anyone right now."
My heart sinks to somewhere around my ankles. "Right. Yeah. Of course."
The woman hesitates, then adds, "Maybe give her a little time. She seemed...overwhelmed."
A polite way of saying I completely blindsided her with the most important question a guy can ask. And did it in the most public, inappropriate way possible. I nod and thank the woman, then retreat to the concourse where Dad and Bohdan are waiting.
"She doesn't want to see me," I tell them.
Dad sighs, his expression half sympathy, half I-told-you-so. Bohdan just seems disappointed in me, which somehow hurts worse. I lean against the wall, sliding down until I'm sitting on the floor like some dejected teenager.
"You messed up badly, kid," Dad reminds me, not sugarcoating it. "But you're a Hannigan, and Hannigans fix their mistakes."
"But how do I fix this one?" I ask, genuinely desperate for advice. "I can't un-propose."
"No," Bohdan says. "But you can apologize properly. And if you truly mean to marry her, you will do it correctly next time."
Next time. The thought that there might still be a next time ignites a flicker of hope inside me. And all I can do I cross my fingers. If that's my best option, then I'm royally fucked.
Then Regan's mom approaches me, hands on her hips, and leans toward me. "Nobody knows my girl like I do. So, here's what you need to do to make things right..."