“Shut up,” I groan, but there’s no malice behind it. And when I lay my head on Danny’s shoulder and watch Ryder stir creamer into his mom’s coffee across the hangar, I think that by happenstance or some weird design, I’ve ended up exactly where I’m supposed to be.
22
LET THE GAMES BEGIN
The day we’ve all been waiting for has arrived. Team USA has officially said Buongiornio to Italy. The team charter landed in Milan early Wednesday morning, and with one day until the Opening Ceremonies, the city is alive with excitement. From figure skating to bobsleigh, biathlon to freestyle skiing, there are no shortage of events in which Team USA is slated to excel. But the real story to watch is happening on the mountainside, where the newlyweds Ryder Finch and Mabel Quinn will be competing in the men and women’s halfpipe, slopestyle, and big air. Both have brought home gold in previous years, most notably, Quinn’s record-breaking win in Pyeongchang where she became the youngest American snowboarder to achieve the honor. All eyes will be on the young couple as they embark on their first Winter Games as husband and wife, and while those pesky pregnancy rumors were shut down onthe Hot Girl Walk podcast earlier this week (not to mention, Quinn’s bold choice to wear nothing but a sports bra and low rise leggings while exploring the athlete's village this morning), one can’t help but wonder if the excitement in her personal life won’t have an effect on Mabel’s professional life.
Will Ryder Finch be the only half of America’s favorite couple to see the center podium this year? Only time will tell.
-Sarah Hannigan, Inside The Games.
23
PANTS OFF, MARSHMALLOW
RYDER
Arriving at The Winter Games is always a little more anticlimactic than I used to dream about when I was a kid. I always thought it would be this fabulous event where I’d be treated like a celebrity and given the royal treatment, but it’s no different from a college move-in day. All administrative, no glamour. The whole team gets shuttled from the airport to the village, you’re given a room assignment and an access card for the facilities, and then it’s pretty much a waiting game until the Opening Ceremonies. The only difference between this year and previous ones is that I didn’t have to hold my breath while I waited to find out which two other athletes I’d have to sharea tiny room and three cardboard, twin beds with. Since America is one of the countries that allows for married couples to live together in the Village, Mabel and I were assigned a single room, no roommates but each other.
A week ago, I’d been cautiously optimistic about having to share one of the notoriously small and uncomfortable beds with my accidental wife. Now that we’ve finally broken down at least some of the walls between us, I am downright giddy.
My dazzling wife is still in our room, napping since she can never sleep on planes, no matter how long the flight, so Mom and I decided to take a passeggiata to explore the place we’ll be calling home for the next two weeks.
“Gosh, I remember the first time I skied the Alps. It was 1992 in Albertville, France. I remember getting off the team plane and being awestruck. Don’t get me wrong, the Colorado Rockies have my heart, but seeing the landscape of these glorious mountains for the first time just took my breath away. I’m so happy to get to share it with you, honey.”
“Me too, Mom. And the Games are back in the French Alps in 2030. Full circle moment,” I say, hooking my arm through hers. She always gets so nostalgic when we travel, especially for my competitions. It used to drive me nuts as a kid but now, I justfeel lucky to have something as monumental as the Games in common with both my parents. Spotting a cafe just a head, I nod towards it. “Let’s grab a cup of coffee. I’m freezing.”
“Ugh, you’re just like your father. Always cold, that one.” Mom lovingly rolls her eyes.
We settle into a small round table by the window and once I’ve ordered two double espressos and a croissant for us to share, Mom sits back and crosses her arms over her chest.
“So, how are things going with Mabel?”
“Fine,” I say with a shrug of my shoulder. “I’m happy the women’s team has their qualifiers first this week. I think I’ll feel a lot more calm for mine once we know that Mabel will be competing for a medal.”
“Oh, I have no doubt that she’ll smash the leaderboards. Is she doing the double cork 1080?”
“It depends on her first run, I think. She’s been practicing it in our training sessions but if she scores high enough to qualify without it, I think she’ll save it for the medal competition.”
“That’s a smart strategy, I hope she sticks with it. There are so many younger athletes that are going to be showing off their skills early, it can be tempting to bust out the big moves.”
“Yeah, but Mabel is strategic. She knows that she has the precision to score high with the basics,because she’s perfected them. Some of us have to go for those extra turns and longer air times to stand out. I won’t qualify without a double 1080 because I’m sloppy on my landings, but Mabel can make cruising look like a work of art.”
A server sets down our coffees and the pastry. I thank him and then ask in Italian if he could wrap up one of the fruity strudels I spotted in the bakery case up for me to take back to the village, and he assures me that he will.
“Have you told her that you’re in love with her yet?” Mom asks, glancing at me from over the lip of her espresso cup. She must read the shock on my face because she gives me a bored look. “Ryder, I’m your mother. I know everything. Your feelings for Mabel have been your worst-kept secret for the better part of ten years. Even worse than the disgusting sock you kept hidden under your pillow when you were thirteen. And the two of you are about as subtle as a wrecking ball. Did you really think no one noticed how you disappeared into the plane hangar bathroom together for fifteen minutes and came out glowing?”
She gives me a pointed look, and I blow out a long breath. For the sake of my sanity, I ignore the implication that my mom knows more about my sex life than I can stomach.
“It’s complicated, Mom.” I pick up my fork and scrape it over the croissant between us, watching as buttery flakes fall off onto the plate. “We said we’d, y’know, reassess this whole marriage thing after Milan. That we’d just get through the Games, pretend that the marriage wasn’t a drunken mistake to appease Trina and then when we’re home in two weeks, we’ll work on getting divorced. But I do. Love her, I mean. I’m so in love with her I feel like I’m drowning in it, you know? But Mabel…I know she has feelings for me. She has a hard time expressing it with words, but she’s shown me. I don’t want to get divorced. I want to be with Mabel, for real. I want a life with her. I want it all. But Mabel…”
“But Mabel is her mother’s daughter,” Mom finishes. I furrow my brows. “Melanie was always so closed-off when it came to her heart. It took her years to tell me that she loved me, and we’re only best friends. When I started dating your father, and he introduced us to Marcus, my God, Ryder. It was like watching a movie. The four of us were sitting in a coffee shop just like this and I swear, I watched as they fell in love with each other before we even finished our cappuccinos. I think Marcus was ready to propose that night. But it took her six months before she finally admitted that she had feelings for him, too. Do you know he proposed three timesbefore she finally gave him an answer? Melanie is stubborn and headstrong. She’s independent to a fault, and for all her cockiness, she’s always been terrified of the unknown. Her career was everything to her, and the thought of losing it or putting that part of herself on the back burner scared her to death.”
“Just like Mabel,” I nod.
“Just like Mabel. Except this was pre-internet, and Melanie wasn’t constantly being bombarded with snarky comments from keyboard warriors and buzzy listicles of all the women Marcus had been romantically linked to over the years.”
I let out an unamused snort, thinking of the stupid article that had gone viral overnight, ranking the top ten athletes I’ve had alleged affairs with at Winter Games past and wondering whether Mabel lived up to my previous bed partners.
