“I’ll be there,” I said quickly as I entered our dressing room. My stomach churned with a sickening mix of dread and anxiety. “Send the details to Jack, please.”
“Good choice, Luca.”
I stopped in the center of the room, but my eyes were drawn to the photograph taped to the mirror just above the picture of Lily and Matilda.
It was a photo of us—from that day at the beach.
Matilda looked so beautiful. Her damp and wavy hair clung to the curve of her shoulders and cleavage. Her smile was wide and genuine, and her eyes crinkled at the corners.
She might not believe it, but she was a star and never failed to shine brighter than anyone else aroundher.
She’d printed the photo and stuck it here at the start of week two, declaring that it would keep us on track for the season ahead.
Maybe it was for the best that I did this. It would put the distance between us that we both needed. We could finally face thereality that we wouldn’t be able to make it work, with everything pulling us in different directions.
Later that day,I was lying across the sofa in our dressing room, watching replays of our rehearsals, when Matilda strutted in, her steps confident and purposeful. Her cheeks were rosy, and stray strands of hair danced around her face, leaving her looking a little wild, like she always did when she stepped off theice.
“I brought you your favorite crisps.” The bag of pickled onion Monster Munch crinkled as she launched it at my head.
“You mean ‘chips,’ ” I retorted, opening the bag and throwing a monster claw into my mouth. “Thank you.”
“I guess four years in the UK isn’t long enough to acclimatize you to our superior choice of words,” she quipped.
I threw the next claw ather.
And she fucking caught it in her mouth.
“Oh my god, did you see that?” she screeched, covering her mouth with her hand. “You are so lucky to have me as your skating partner.” She performed a small victory dance, earning an eye roll and laugh fromme.
“I’m so lucky to have you as a partner because you caught a chip in your mouth?” I deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.
A burst of laughter escaped her. “God, I didn’t realize you weresucha jealous person.”
I almost choked on the chip.Fuck, was I too obvious, looking daggers at the rink earlier?
She folded her arms across her chest. “Just because I’m more talented than you doesn’t mean you need to put my achievements down.”
She was talking about catching the damned chip.
Instead of answering, I threw another at her, aiming too low for her to catch it. It hit her stomach and fell to the floor. I raised my eyebrows.
She ducked quickly, collecting it from the floor before popping it in her mouth.
“Oh gross, Stevens.” I grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”
She fell onto the sofa beside me, her coconut scent wafting through the air as she rolled her head along the back of the cushion to look atme.
“We need to get on the ice in twenty.”
“I know.”
Neither of us wasthrilledby our skate this week. As it was the final, we had to perform one of our previous skates again. Despite much back and forth, we’d been pushed into the skate inspired by her mother’s Olympic performance. The producers had already approved it, thanks to Julia’s contacting Mark, insisting that while the last time we’d performed it had been “adequate,” there was still room for improvement in order to “wow” the viewers. Neither of them was taking no for an answer. I’d initially refused, reasoning with Matilda that she didn’t have to do it for her mother. But she’d said that when we won, it would be the “cherry on the cake” to get her mother to leave her alone for good, and I couldn’t argue with that.
A sudden thought jolted me—I needed to discuss the phone call withher.
“TheDirty Dancingproducers called,” I started, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. Matilda sat bolt upright and spun to face me, eyes bright with excitement.
“And?”
