“Why’s it a big deal? If you don’t care, why are you fussing about tellingme?”
She has a point.
“Matilda? The blonde?” I asked, hoping Mom wouldn’t know who shewas.
She beamed, dimpled cheeks andall.
“The smiley one?” she asked.
“Don’t say anything more. Please.” I pinched the bridge of my nose.
“Oh, she really has got your knickers in a twist, hasn’t she, my boy.”
“She has not. She’s just another person in the industry who knows how to work people.”
One dark eyebrow raised was her only response.
“What?”
“She’s not in ‘the industry.’ She’s on an ice-skating show.” Her eyes gleamed over hermug.
“Doesn’t matter. They’re all the same.” I shrugged and stole a cookie from the plate on the coffee table.
“Don’t you think she could just be a nice person?” Her gaze was tender, speaking a thousand words without saying anything. “She seems nice on theTV.”
“I’m sure she does. She’s been nothing but pleasant since we met.”
“And that makes her a horrible person because…?”
“Because I was purposefully antagonizing her! I wanted to see how she’d react, to see if she would be honest with me, but she didn’t crack. She acted as if I was the nicest person in the world. No one would pretend not to care unless there was something in it for them.”
“Luca,” she chastised, and my stomach dropped at her downturned lips.
“My methods might be unorthodox, but I needed to know.”
“And if she had told you where to shove it? Kicked off like you wanted her to? Would you have trusted her then?”
I had the sense to stay silent, and my mom’s eyes softened again because she knew my answer.
I ignored the slight tremor in her hand as she reached out and held my arm. “My love, not everyone is like Nancy.”
“I don’t want to talk about her, Mom.”
“You need to open your heart again at some point. You can’t keep walking around with ten-foot walls around your emotions—”
“Please, Mom,” I interruptedher.
“So, when do the live shows start?” she asked, squeezing my hand and dropping the subject.
As we continued talking, Mom’s reminder of Nancy cemented one thing in my head.
Matilda and I would never be friends, or anything more. I was going to try my hardest to make her aware of that.
“How are you feeling, Luca?Ready to kiss some ice?” Jack shouted from where he sat behind the safety glass. I was already booted up on the ice and, after downing my coffee, ready to tackle the day head-on. Luca was bent over, attempting to tie his skates.
“Sounds like you’ve been thinking about me and kissing again,” he deadpanned.
“Hey! That was one dream, one time. Actually, it was more of a nightmare. I told you it freaked me the fuck out.” Jack’s laughter echoed around the rink, and I couldn’t help but smile.
