Page 57 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
“I already fell,” Dahlia says mournfully.
“That’s a sign you’re more comfortable on the ice. You know the worst that can happen. And you know that the thing you do next is just get back up again.”
Dahlia nods, like I’m relaying secrets like a white-bearded man in a toga clutching stone tablets.
“Easy-peasy,” I say.
“Good job, guys,” Aisha says.
I hope she’s going to say we can call it a day. Instead, she scrunches her lips together. “You know, didn’t one of the guys who joined your team recently make a terrible NHL debut?”
She means Noah, and I stiffen.
“I’m not comfortable telling that story to the cameras,” I say, and Aisha looks disappointed.
Ella joins me, all brisk efficiency, and Sebastian hurries after her. His blond locks fly in the wind, his pomade and mousse and whatever other magical products I spotted on the bathroom counter in New Hampshire obviously no match for Boston winter gusts.
The cameramen wanted to limit the number of producers when we filmed the ice portion, but I like it when he’s closer. It settles me more. Probably because I sort of know him.
I smile, relieved, and Flora giggles. So does Dahlia. So does Willow.
I scrunch my forehead together because I must be more out of it than I think. I totally missed anyone say anything, much less a joke.
“Did anything happen?” I ask.
Willow shakes her head. “No, we’re just on a show about finding true love.”
The other women laugh again, and I send a worried look. Who do they think I’ve fallen in love with? Dahlia because I was talking to her about falling?
Women are strange.
But then Sebastian is beside me, and everything is wonderful again.
“We, um, should have a production meeting,” Sebastian says. “Excuse us, ladies.”
“Enjoy!” Flora calls out, and the women giggle.
“They’re in a good mood,” I say, bemused. “Guess they like skating.”
“Uh-huh.” Sebastian seems distracted. His fingers tremble, and I want to grasp them in my hand to calm him. “I-I have to tell you something.”
“Okay. Sure.” I wonder what can cause his gaze to bounce around like that. He darts his gaze to Ella, who is frowning.
Weird.
“Let’s, um, go to that corner.”
We walk to the edge of the ice.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Are you okay?”
He blinks, then shakes his head determinedly. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” Relief whooshes through me, and I beam at him.
He doesn’t meet my eyes though, and though I know the ice is probably interesting for someone like him, it probably shouldn’t be that interesting.
“Do you skate?” I ask.
