A beat, as my mom seemed to process that having a child was more meaningful than being a high-kick dancer.
“Yes, yes, ofcourse,” she insisted. “Quinn was my new life’s passion. Her dreams became mine. And I tried my hardest to help get her to the top of the podium in Switzerland, but she didn’t even win bronze. We were allsodisappointed, me more so than her, I think. Mistakes were made—”
“But the good news is her chances for gold in Milan are strong.” Ben interrupted her, like he knew exactly where the conversation was going. “America loves a comeback story, and Quinn is poised to deliver an incredible one.” He focused on me. “Quinn, how will it feel to stand on that stage and see your parents out in the crowd, cheering you on as you’re awarded the gold medal?”
I froze. Since the split with my old team, it hadn’t even been a consideration, other than the feelings of superiority I knew I’d have for doing it on my own terms. I needed to manufacture a TV-ready, sappy response. The short interview already had me wrung out and buzzing on adrenaline at the same time, a nasty soup of emotions that didn’t tee me up to be generous with my mother.
At least Ben had put me in control. I decided to use my Uno Reverse Card to end the torture.
“Oh my gosh,” I began, trying to look appropriately awestruck at the idea. “I can totally picture that moment.”
It was a white lie, and a nod to the visualization he’d led me through on the plane.
“It’s tough to put words to the feeling,” I admitted as both my parents stared at me. I focused on Ben instead, my surprise port in the storm. “I think I’ll feel incredibly honored to represent my country. Relieved that all my hard work paid off. Joyful that I achieved a lifelong goal. And thankful that I had the support of my parents when I was just starting out.”
I emphasized the time frame, because my mom’s support morphed into intense pressure as the years rolled on, and that was nothing to be thankful for.
Ben nodded at me to signify that I was doing okay.
“I havesomany emotions spiraling through me at the thought of winning gold,” I laughed and hoped it didn’t sound as fake as it felt.
It took a few seconds for him to make the connection that I’d invoked our safe word. I saw him snap out of interviewer mode to briefly acknowledge it, then just as quickly morph back into professional Ben.
“I can only imagine,” he agreed. “The entire world is excited to watch your journey, Quinn. Tim, Tricia, thank you so much for sitting down with us today.” He smiled at us and froze for a few seconds, then seemed to dim his wattage to normal levels again. “Okay, that’s a wrap for the Albrights. Thank you so much for doing this, guys, you were great.”
Neil and Hailey sprang into action, moving toward us to collect the mics.
“Wait, that’s it?” my mom asked, sounding very disappointed.
“Yeah, you were perfect, we got everything we needed and then some,” Ben answered. “And anyway, look.” He pointed out the window to the snow just starting to come down. “The storm is here.”
But what Ben didn’t realize is he’d helped me weather an even bigger one.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I pulled my new license out of my wallet to obsess about the photo again.
“Was it the lighting?” I asked quietly. “The camera? Because this might be the best picture ever taken of me.”
Ben dared to take his eyes off the icy road ahead of us for a second to glance over at me. “What are you talking about? You look gorgeous in every photo, and the fact that you can make a mugshot look like it belongs in a modeling portfolio proves it.”
Despite the turmoil of the past few hours and the stress ahead of me, I actually looked pretty darn happy in the photo. Maybe it was because Ben had stood behind the glum guy taking it and made faces at me? How could I not laugh?
I slid it back in my wallet. “Thank you for making me go get it today. They’re definitely going to be closed tomorrow if this keeps up.”
The snow had started like someone upstairs flicked a switch. There was no slow lead-up to the heart of the squall; from the moment the flakes started coming down it was an intense, serious storm.
Which Ben was now expertly navigating despite the occasional black ice on the road.
I was wrung out after the interview with my parents but Ben had insisted we get my license before the DMV closed for the day, and we wound up making it minutes before they closed at five thirty. It was a scramble to get everything packed up and drop Hailey and Neil at the inn, but I appreciated that our rushing prevented me from having to go through a prolonged goodbye with my mom. The next time I’d see her would be in Italy.
“So can we talk about it now?” Ben asked me. “The interview?”
The rhythmicthwackof the windshield wipers filled the silence while I considered it.
“High level, sure. But I’m not in the mood for a therapy session.”
Even though I knew how good Ben was at it.
