“That’s not true,” she said with a small smile.
“Ha, yeah, right. I turned into chopped liver when you were around,” I said, making her full-on grin.
When Ali pulled into her parent’s driveway, I stared at the large ranch-style home for a second because it was almost unrecognizable. At some point in the last decade since I’d been here, they’d painted the dark brick white and they put a darker stain on the wood accents, giving it a more modern look. But it was nice to see that her parents still decorated with the same Christmas wreath and lights every year.
“Annie’s already here,” Ali said, pointing to the Range Rover parked beside us. While ice dancing didn’t bring in much money, Anastasia was apparently making a decent living off of social media and coaching.
“Ready?” I asked.
Ali shivered, despite the heat still being on in my truck. “How are you so calm?”
I smirked. “We’ve done much harder things than this.” I licked my lips and stared at the front door. “Think about it this way, what if I told you that if you didn’t get out of this truck, you’d have to compete a long program today?”
“Yeah, absolutely not,” she said with a snort.
I grinned. “See, this is nothing in comparison.”
“Yeah, I’ll have to keep that little trick in mind when it comes time to actually birth these babies,” she mumbled.
I cringed in sympathy, making her laugh while she popped open the truck door and jumped down.
As soon as Ali started up the pathway, the front door flew open, revealing Ali’s doppelganger—except with deep red lipstick and long blonde hair with curls in it.
Ali and Anastasia were technically identical, but after growing up with them at Centre Ice, their subtle differences were obvious to me. Ali had a birthmark above the corner of her smile, and Anastasia was slightly taller and her face was slightly thinner.
In terms of their personality, they were total opposites, but they complimented each other. Anastasia unapologetically advocated for herself while Ali was a bit of a people pleaser. Anastasia spoke with her hands and craved drama and being the center of attention, while Ali liked to blend in, which was kind of apparent in how they liked to dress. Today, Anastasia wore tights, heels, a plaid skirt, and tight red top that matched her lipstick, making it look like she was aboutto go to a fancy dinner party. Ali and I were both wearing comfy athleisure wear in shades of grey and black.
“I’m so happy you’re home!” Anastasia called out with a bright smile. She immediately pulled Ali in for a hug, then froze like a statue. She grabbed Ali’s arms and pulled back. Her eyes dropped down to Ali’s stomach. “Are you…?” Her eyes widened. “Are you…?”
Ali gave a tiny nod, and I held my breath, hoping for a good reaction so I wouldn’t have to jump in.
Anastasia immediately started jumping up and down and crying. She grabbed Ali into another hug. “This is so exciting. I’m going to be the best Auntie ever.” A second later, she pulled back again and hitched a thumb my way. “Wait, he’s the baby daddy, right?”
“Yeah, JP is the dad,” Ali said with a smile.
Anastasia’s shoulders sagged with relief as she smiled at her sister. “Hi, JP,” she said without even looking at me. She grabbed Ali’s arms and pulled her into the house. “We have so much to catch up on. Did I tell you I dumped Pierre’s ass?” She rolled her eyes.
Ali laughed and looked back at me with a smile, all her stress completely gone. I gave her an encouraging nod.
“And I have to hear all about how this happened.” Anastasia gestured to Ali’s stomach. “Wow.” Her eyes trailed over Ali. “We look so cute pregnant.” She nodded in approval.
“Pregnant?” Ali’s dad’s voice boomed from somewhere inside the house.
Anastasia’s smile turned to a cringe. “Ooh, sorry,” she mouthed to me, looking absolutelynotsorry. “Oh, and Grandma is here by the way,” she told Ali. “She’ll probably forget all about hounding me for being single now that you came here all knocked up, so thanks for that,” she said before wandering further into the house.
“Knocked up? Did I just hear that?” her dad thundered.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered under my breath. If her dad was going to punch me, I’d have to let him.
Ali scampered further into the house while I was still struggling to take off my snowy boots with my good hand. “Ali, don’t leave me,” I whisper-shouted.
“I’m cold.” She tried for an apologetic look, but she was totally laughing.
I shook my head at her.
And then her dad stepped right in front of me, blocking her fromview. He was still well-built, probably from years of training hockey players, and he looked almost the same as I remembered, just shorter—probably because I was taller—and he had more hard lines creasing his face and thinner gray hair. After seeing me, he held the sides of the hallway and dropped his head.
“Coach,” I said, swallowing hard. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m injured.” I said the last part loudly, hoping he’d take pity on me and not swing at my head.
