Page 37 of Goal Line
I’ve been skating my entire life, and I’m a little afraid I don’t know who I am without that. I need to figure that out, because one thing I know for sure is that tying your entire identity to your sport, like my mom did with riding and horses, isn’t going to help me be a good mom.
I want to be a good mom, and yet here I am, not even sure I know how to be good to myself.
Instead of saying all of that, I tell him, “No, it may not be impossible. But it’s also not what I want. We’ll close out our last season together with an Olympic appearance, and hopefully an Olympic medal, and then I’ll help you choose a new partner if you want me to. But my days of competing are coming to an end.”
When our season ended a few weeks ago, I still wasn’t completely certain about retiring. But something changed in the OB’s office last week. Until then, the pregnancy had been something I was aware of but hadn’t fully accepted, probably because I had so few symptoms initially. Seeing the baby onthe ultrasound changed that...as did the conversation with Luke afterward.
“So how do you see this working?” Christopher asks. “You want me to move out there so we can train together until you have the baby? And then what? I’ll stay there through the Olympics?”
I nod as I twist another strand of hair around my curling iron. “The Hartmanns have a lot of properties in Boston. Luke said he can easily find one you can stay in while we finish out our last season together.”
Christopher scoffs. “What’s he getting out of all of this? I understand why this marriage benefits you, but aside from finally locking you down, how does it benefit him?”
“Besides taking the spotlight off how he lost Game 7 for his team, there’s some family stuff going on too.” I’m intentionally vague as I glance away to focus on the mirror and make sure I don’t burn myself with the curling iron. “And this . . . would be good.”
“So you’re not going to tell me?” He lets out a dry laugh.
“I shared all my reasons, but that doesn’t mean you’re entitled to his. You already know more than anyone else ever will.”
“You really think everyone’s going to believe this? After half the internet has been shipping us for the past two seasons?”
“You and me? We’re great performers,” I say, throwing his exact words back at him, with a wink to hide the hurt I still feel from his insistence that all he had ever given fans was a performance.
Emotions always run high going into, and especially finishing, a competition routine. We always held handsstepping onto the ice and pressed our foreheads together as he whispered, “Let’s kill it, Eva,” before a routine. Then, after we finished, he always wrapped me up in an embrace and spun me around the ice, planting kisses on my forehead when we got our score. It was equal parts close friendship and performing for the fans. It was nothing more, even if I’d convinced myself otherwise for a few months this past winter.
“Fans will believe us when we assure them I’ve been with Luke all along, and you and I have been nothing but skating partners.”
“All along, huh?” he asks with a quirked eyebrow. “Is that the story?”
“I think so,” I say. “Luke’s on his way over, and we’re going to finalize the details tonight. We leave for Vegas on Friday. Is there any way you can squeeze in a quick trip to Boston so we can meet with our potential new coach before I go?”
“You mean sometime in the nextthree days?”
“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t give you more notice. But she’s free any time Wednesday or Thursday.”
“You’re lucky I love you,” he says. It’s something he says all the time, and I know he means he loves me in the same way Luke does—like a sibling. But as my door cracks open and Luke pops his head in, I’m still incredibly grateful for my AirPods, because I know that Luke wouldn’t have taken his comment that way.
Luke still blames Christopher for my decisions that night . . . It’s best if heneverhears him say those words.
“Hey.” Luke’s deep voice cuts through my noise-canceling AirPods, and I don’t miss the way Christopher’s eyes trackhis movement as he bends to kiss the top of my head. “You ready?”
I take out one of my earbuds and glance up at him, nodding my chin toward my phone sitting on the vanity. “Say hi to Christopher,” I say, with abe nicetone that you’d use with a petulant child.
“Well, if it isn’t Christopher Fucking Steele,” he mutters, quietly enough that I’m pretty sure he isn’t heard on the other end. If he does hear him, Christopher does a remarkable job of not reacting. Luke snatches the AirPod out of my hand and sticks it in his ear. “Hey, man, sorry, I have to steal Eva away. We have plans.”
“Hey!” I say when Luke reaches forward and taps the screen to disconnect the call. “What the hell?”
“I’ll play nice with him when he’s around, because he’s your partner. But let’s make sure he knows where he stands—because being your skating partner means next to nothing when you’re about to bemy wife.”
My stomach shouldn’t flip over when he calls me his wife. A shiver shouldn’t streak down my spine as the thrill rushes through me.
He isn’t jealous; he just doesn’t like my skating partner—and I’d do well to remember that. There’s no way I’m letting myself get caught up in the what-ifs with him like I did with Christopher. Especially because my friendship with Luke means more to me than any other relationship I’ve ever had in my life.
There’s no way I’m risking that.
I roll my eyes, and then turn back to the mirror to curl my last piece of hair.
“You ready?” he asks.
