Page 42 of On the Edge

Marco has four reindeer now. They live in the same preserve as my one reindeer from years ago, who I named Beau after my brother. My reindeer was a girl, which continues to make me laugh to this day.

“You sure you don’t want to come to Jeff’s birthday party with me tonight?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,Bella. But I have to be up at 4:00 a.m.” He reminds me that he’ll be on a flight to Paris before I even wake up tomorrow. I have a few team obligations in the morning, so I’ll be flying out later in the day. I’ll still arrive in Paris in time for the two-day wedding celebration of one of his close family friends. “And you know I can’t sleep on flights,” he reminds me.

One of my most prized talents is my ability to sleep anywhere, at any time. Long-haul international flights, ski lodges between races, car rides—really anywhere. Marco, on the other hand, can’t even sleep in first class unless it’s on a flight where the seat fully reclines into a bed.

“Besides,” he adds, “I doubt your team would appreciate me being there.”

“Come on, you’re friendly with all of them. You’ve raced with Jeff for years, it’s not like it’d be weird if you showed up at his birthday party.”

“I think it’d be weird for Nate,” Marco warns.

“Pfft. Don’t be like that.”

“Let’s not make things more awkward. You know the press would be all over any kind of a confrontation and we already managed to get through this week without one, so let’s call that a win and not tempt fate, eh? There are still a lot more races for us to get through this season.”

I roll my eyes in response. “Nate being here shouldn’t mean that we don’t get to do things together.”

“I was never going to Jeff’s birthday party anyway,Bella. I’ve got to get to bed early for my flight. I’m sorry not to see you dressed up in your flapper costume, though.”

We’ve planned a 1920s party to celebrate Jeff’s last day of being in his twenties. My dress is amazing, I’m so excited to wear it. But I wish Marco was going to be with me as a buffer from Nate. That night in the kitchen at Copper Mountain still has me rattled. It’s like my defenses completely crumble in his presence, and I don’t want to risk being alone with him again.

“I’m confident Sierra will overdo it on the photos and you’ll see them plastered all over social media.”

“Good. More people need to see and appreciate this beautiful face,” he says as he reaches over and cups my cheek with his full hand. I give his wrist a gentle kiss.

“You’re too good to me,” I tell him. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” he says. “And actually, I need to talk to you about an important decision I made a couple weeks ago. I wanted to wait and talk to you in person.”

My heart is now beating in my throat, making it almost impossible to swallow. This sounds serious. But the waiter approaches and takes our orders before Marco can get another word out. Once he’s gone, I take a gulp of my martini, and then I look at Marco. “You were saying?”

“I talked to my coaches and my agent already, and I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner, but I really wanted to have this conversation in person.”

“You mentioned.” I gesture that he should go on.

“This is my last season.”

“What?” My gasp is so loud the people at the table next to us glance over. I lower my voice when I ask, “Why?”

Marco is at the absolute pinnacle of his career. He’s got years of racing ahead of him. He’s got career bests still to achieve, records to hold onto and defend. “I’m going to attempt a Marcel Hirscher ... you know, go out while I’m on top. Hopefully this will be another crystal globe season for me,” he says, referencing the large glass trophy the overall World Cup winner receives at the end of the season. So far he’s got five from the last seven years, plus countless numbers of small globes for winning each discipline within alpine racing over many years.

“But why, Marco? Don’t you still love racing?”

“I do, but I’ve been doing this for twelve years. It’s getting old. The nonstop travel, living out of hotels, training year-round. And it’s been hard for Christian.”

“Oh.” So this is about Christian. That makes more sense.

“I need to get out of the spotlight,” he says, and I wonder how it’s possible that he relishes the spotlight and wants to get out of it at the same time. Love is complicated like that. “It’s time I started leading a more secluded life where the media isn’t all over me. I need to put my energy where it really belongs. Which means, we need to start talking about an end game strategy here.”

I suck in a breath. I knew this day would come, knew it from the moment I agreed to this. But never in my wildest dreams did I think it would happen this season, while I was working with Nate.

“Well, I have good news then.” I give him a weak smile. “I have an interview next week at Danforth.”

It’s Marco’s turn to look surprised. “You’re trying to be closer to your parents? That would be such a good move for you—you could be there for your mom’s treatments and you’d get to be back at Danforth. Congratulations!” His happiness is so genuine.

“Well, I have to actually get the job first. But if you retire and I leave the National Ski Team, it makes sense that this could die a natural death. No drama, no big breakup. Just two people moving in different directions.”

---