Page 125 of My Last Dance

Everything was perfect.

Until the last forty seconds.

A loud beep erupted from his heart monitor.

My eyes locked on his as we pushed into crossovers facing each other.

“Finish,” he uttered, not breaking his stride.

The music was building. Panic was ricocheting through me.

“No,” I whimpered, tightening my grip on his hand.

“Yes,” he said firmly.

I had to let go of him to complete a set of twizzles.

“We have to finish, Piper,” he said in a calm tone. “Until the end, baby. We have to finish.”

Tears filled my eyes.

I couldn’t even think straight.

My body took over.

Twenty more seconds.

The heart monitor continued beeping, warning us.

“Richard,” I cried.

“Focus. Last lift, baby,” he said, trying to talk me through it.

Ten more seconds.

I held the lift, not bothering to hide the emotions on my face. He maneuvered me onto his shoulders, spinning me through the air.

His heart monitor changed pitch, now wailing like a strong siren.

“Don’t worry. We can do this, baby,” he panted.

I was crying as we held the last position.

He smoothly set me down onto the ice and we glided into our ending pose—ten feet away from each other, but facing opposite ends of the rink.

The crowd roared, drowning out the sound of his heart monitor, drowning out any sound at all. It was the loudest applause I’d ever experienced.

“Are you okay?” I shouted, my body shaking with anxiety as I held our pose for three excruciatingly long seconds.

Why wasn’t he answering?

Why?

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

Please, no.

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