“Long.” She leaned her head against the window, fanning herself dramatically. “It’s hot as balls. Where can a girl get a drink around here?”
“Don’t you want to eat dinner first?”
“I had a snack on the plane. Let’s get drunk and you can tell me everything that’s been happening here.”
We dropped off Sabrina’s luggage and Avery’s car at the apartment. Avery wasn’t home—probably at some team thing—so we didn’t linger. We walked to a bar down the block, one of those places with exposed brick and Edison bulbs that seemed to exist on every corner in this city.
Sabrina ordered an Aperol spritz. I ordered a vodka with sugar free Red Bull.
She raised an eyebrow at my choice but didn’t comment. Just nibbled on the pretzels in the basket between us and waited.
She let me take a sip before she started her interrogation.
“How are you?”
“I hate that question.”
“I hate that answer.”
I shrugged, tracing a finger through the condensation on my glass. “I’m surviving.”
She watched me for a moment, her expression softening into something more serious. “How are you really?”
“I just told you.”
“You told me nothing. That’s your specialty.” She took a sip of her spritz. “How’s the skating? How’s Avery? How’s Chicago? Made any new friends to replace me?”
“There’s no—”
“Yes, there’s no one that could replace me. Now spill.”
“Avery’s been understanding. Probably more than I deserve. Playing referee between mom and me. And keeping tabs for you apparently.” I took a longer drink. The vodka burned pleasantly. “How are things in Toronto?”
Sabrina’s face flickered—something complicated passing behind her eyes before she smoothed it away. She knew who I was really asking about.
“The same,” she said carefully. “But not really. It’s shit without you.”
“I’m sure not everyone feels the same way.”
“He’s fine, by the way. Nico.” She stirred her drink, watching the ice clink against the glass. “He’s seeing someone. Another skater from the junior program. Julien something.”
I nodded, not sure what to feel. Relief, maybe. Or guilt. The usual cocktail.
“He doesn’t blame you, you know.” Sabrina’s voice was quieter now. “For how things ended. He knows it wasn’t—” She paused, choosing her words. “He knows his uncle made it impossible. The pressure he put on both of you. The way he tried to control everything. That wasn’t your fault.”
I thought about Nico. Soft spoken, wide eyed Nico with his gentle hands and his patient smile and his complete inability to handle the disaster that was me. He’d been so naively sweet, believing love could fix anything if you just tried hard enough. Believing I could be fixed if he was tender enough, careful enough, good enough.
He’d been wrong.
“I still left.”
“You had to leave. Staying would have destroyed you.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Nicounderstands that. He’s not angry. He’s just… sad. The way everyone is sad when something ends before it should.”
I pulled my hand back and drained half my drink. “Can we talk about something else?”
Sabrina let me have the deflection. For now. “Fine. Tell me about training. What are you working on?”
I told her about my daily routine at the Frost training facility. My off-ice conditioning. The disconnect I was feeling with my body. She understood my struggles.
