“We do, but I don’t think you need a ballet class.” Charlie walked over to the stovetop and poured some oil into a frying pan. “Pairs is all about being able to connect with your partner. Something like ballroom dancing would probably be a better fit for us.”
“Us?”
“We’re a team, aren’t we?” A thin smile crossed his lips. “That means we should be working on trying to build up our connection. If you find a class that works for us, I’ll join you.” He placed the first chicken breast in the pan, and it started to sizzle. “I’m free after eight during the week or after twelve on the weekends.”
Wait. Did he say eight?She did a few mental calculations. Something wasn’t adding up for her. Frankie’s eyes twitched. “Charlie, how many hours a day, on average, are you here?”
He stared into the pan and mumbled something.
“What was that?”
“Fifteen or sixteen hours?” He hunched his shoulders. “I know. It’s bad.” He refused to meet her eyes.
She winced. It was worse than she had thought.
“We’re about to significantly start increasing the amount of physical activity we do with our bodies. That means you need time to rest and recover. Pairs skating is already dangerous. I won’t skate with you if you’re going to only sleep three or four hours a night.”
He stood still for a moment, closing his eyes, and exhaled deeply. “I know. Your safety is important to me too. I would never take a chance on you getting hurt.” His eyes opened and he turned and looked directly at Frankie. “I promise I’ll figure something out before I leave the rink tonight.”
“Thank you.”
She wondered if she should step in and text Leslie too, or if she could trust that Charlie would remember on his own. This was the first big test they were about to face. Whatever she did would set the tone for how this partnership was going to go.
The meat smelled as if it were nearly fully cooked. He returned his attention back to the pan and flipped it over with a spatula.
“I’ve lost count—the last item was number three or four?”
“It was number three. We can skip over items four and five, but number six is important.” Frankie closed her notebook and rested her hands on top of it.
“Your face is telling me it’s serious too.” After plating the finished meat, he walked over to the island and leaned against it. “You’ve got my full attention. Shoot.”
“Do you remember I mentioned the other night that I live with my dad?”
He nodded.
“My dad is, um . . .” Frankie’s throat constricted.
“Take a deep breath.” Charlie rested his hand on hers. His fingers were long. “Now exhale.”
Her chest tightened. Why was finding the right words so difficult?
“Your dad . . .” he started, nodding encouragingly.
“He, er . . . he isn’t in the best of health.” She dropped her chin to her chest, staring at the sparkly cover of her notebook. “There might be times when I need to cancel a practice with you so I can take him to a doctor’s appointment. Or days when I have to stay home because he isn’t having a good day. I mean, he’s gotten a lot better, but there’s still a lot of unknowns ahead. Is . . . is . . . that going to be a problem?” she sputtered.
“No. If something comes up, take care of your dad. You do you.” She raised her head. Charlie’s eyes were wide with understanding. He cleared his throat. “If there’s ever anything you need, I want you to let me know. Like I said earlier, we’re partners now. That relationship extends beyond just being on the ice together.”
“Only if you promise me the same,” she croaked.
He gave her a curt nod.
Frankie felt as if a weight had been lifted off her chest, and her body relaxed. The scent of meat hit her nostrils. “Thanks for cooking. This smells as good as the steak we had at Millie’s.” Her mouth still watered thinking about the tender meat that was so soft, it literally melted in her mouth.
“I’ll take the compliment, but there’s no matching the food Millie’s makes. It’s on another level.” He made them plates of food and then pulled up the stool across from her.
“So, uh, where did you learn to cook?”
“The internet.” Charlie cut his chicken up into small pieces and laughed. “Les and I used to be roommates. We had a great arrangement going. She did the cooking, and I contributed a couple extra bucks to the rent. But when she moved in with her boyfriend, all that ended, and I had to move quickly to figure things out. Eating takeout every night became expensive very quickly.”
