Page 124 of My Last Dance

I didn’t even care to stop him. My face creased with worry. “I have a bad feeling about this,” I said, pulling my knees to my chest.

Still standing, he ran his tongue over his teeth. “I want to do this, Piper. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you.”

“What if I don’t?” I challenged. “Are you even processing what could happen?” I asked weakly.

“Yes.” His hands went to his hips. “I fully know the stats, the odds, the facts, I know it all, okay? Idon’t care.” His shoulders fell. “I signed up to be your partner. I signed up to go to the Olympics with you. Everything else I worked for is going to be taken from me. I know that, okay? But I want to finish this. I want to see this one thing through to the end.”

I dropped my head on my knees, not knowing what to do.

With a sigh, he knelt down beside me and his large hand rubbed my head. “Ya know, if you don’t skate with me, it’ll break my heart.”

“Oh my God,” I wailed, slapping his hand away. “Donotjoke about it.”

He laughed and his eyes sparked, silently begging me to play with him. “C’mon, you know that was funny.”

“Don’t,” I warned, my lip quivering as I fought off more tears. I was sure my eyes were now permanently puffy from crying so much over the past couple days.

His face sobered. “Okay, too soon, I’m sorry. But we’re not quitters. C’mon, just say you’ll dance with me to the end, babe.” He pulled me into him for a hug, and I found myself nodding, even though I knew I shouldn’t.

27. MY LAST DANCE

Dressed in our official Team USA Tommy Hilfiger apparel, Kappy and I held hands as we walked in the opening ceremony with athletes from all over the world.

The Olympics felt different this time around. I felt more settled, more sure of myself, and less nervous about the competition. Because skating wasn’t my everything anymore. That didn’t mean I didn’t want to win—God, I wanted that gold so bad—but life would go on after this. As long as Richard was okay, life would go on.

The Rhythm Dance passed by in a whirl.

My mind usually shut off and went blank during big performances and I solely relied on my muscle memory. Not this time. This time, I wanted to be fully present. I wanted to memorize every single moment of skating with Richard.

Standing at the boards before our Free Dance, I grooved deep into the ice, testing my edges.

“My last one. My last dance,” I whispered to myself, shaking each leg out. Tears formed in my eyes, and I gently wiped them away. It all built up to this. Every single day of practice. Every ache and pain. Every loss and triumph.

I looked up to the rafters to pray, but this time, I wasn’t praying for a perfect performance. I was just praying for him.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t skating for a medal.

“This one’s just for us,” I vowed, reaching out to hold his hand.

He gave me a firm nod as we moved to our opening positions, facing each other, but not touching, even though we so desperately wanted to be.

“Just for us,” he whispered, dimples flashing on his ruggedly handsome face.

For us.

For our past selves, dancing at the rink and dancing at the bars.

For our present selves, in this moment, with the whole world watching.

And for our future selves, who I thought of as we moved through the yearning part of our program.

The entire crowd died away, and each song lyric was reflected on his face as we moved through the program together.

I felt powerful and triumphant as we completed element after element.

And I cherished jumping into his arms and flying through our lifts, because I knew it would be our last time.

We had it in the bag.

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