Page 13 of Your Sharpest Edge
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Y-You don’t have to get married for him to fund anything. You could have?—”
“Could have what?” I barked back. “I was living on nothing. I’m nineteen years old. I don’t think my skating career is over yet. I-I had to do it.”
The tension between us grew until Alexsey turned toward the kitchen and living area.
“I can leave, Alexsey,” I offered, though I still found myself lingering inside, trailing behind him.
He was rummaging in the fridge when he spoke. “Just Alex, Anastasia.”
I chuckled softly, grateful the tension wasn’t as obvious as I’d thought. “Okay, Alex, but I go by Stassi.”
He glanced back at me, holding a jug of milk and two glasses. “Nah, I prefer Anastasia.”
As he poured the milk and retrieved the cookies, he asked, “Tell me about your gold medal.”
I pulled up one of the seats at the bar as he handed me a glass, and I told him my story.
6
alex
I could listen to her talk all day. I was leaning over the counter, mesmerized by the words spilling out of her mouth like it was the sweetest song I’d ever heard. I don’t think I’ve ever been this focused on something aside from hockey in my entire life. She was my captain’s wife and would always remain that, but the way she spoke was so gentle and delicate.
“I can’t believe you won an Olympic Gold when you were 16 years old.” My mouth was agape, so impressed with her. “Are your parents going to be able to visit? You said your mom was American?”
“She had me when she was out here, so I have my citizenship.” She shrugged. “I don’t know if they’ll visit. They want the best for me.”
“And by marrying you off, that’s the best option?” That came out meaner than I’d intended. “Sorry. That didn’t land well. I’m just trying to gauge their point of view.”
She frowned. “I’ve seen a lot of my colleagues think they’ll go into coaching or something else in the field, but it’s alwaysa dead end. There are only so many coaches for so many professional skaters. My parents want me to reach my maximum potential and retire on my terms.”
I shook my head and pulled away from the counter. “That sucks.”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“But you’re an Olympic athlete. That must mean something.”
She pulled on her lower lip. “No. There are so many of us out here.” Anastasia straightened her shoulders, and I wondered if she knew how obvious her inside thoughts were to me. She was so clearly uncomfortable. It was as if her spiraling thoughts were audible. “I’m very grateful for Dimitri.”
That response felt like it was something you’d tell the press at a conference, not someone whose door you were dropping off cookies to.
I took a bite of her cookie and pulled it away from my mouth as I laughed. “I hate sweets,” I said.
She looked down at the treat in my hand, and climbed off the chair.
I reached out, my fingers grazing the top of her hand, and shook my head. “I hated sweets until I tried these. They’re really good.”
She giggled and settled back on her stool, brushing her soft blonde locks off her shoulder. “I’m terrible at baking, but I’m trying to learn to be a good wife.”
“You can be a good wife without cooking or baking or being domesticated.”
She shook her head. “My mom said I needed to learn these skills, so I am.”
I was obviously at her wall, one that she’d erected to protect herself, and it was made of stone. I didn’t have the right tools to break it down, so there was no point in pushing.
“No girlfriend for you?” she asked softly, but her cheeks reddened.
“Nope. As a matter of fact, I prefer the sample platter,” I said.
