"Speaking of your wife," Tony cuts in again, voice sharp with relish, "what do you think about her winning the Canadian Nationals? First place in Toronto, Canada, last week. Her performance was fantastic."
Shock registers on my face as the words hit me like a body check I never saw coming.
Like being attacked by an angry pool of piranhas, the room explodes with questions flying from every direction, shouts overlapping, relentless.
"You had no idea, did you?"No.
"How could you not know?"I don't know.
"Are you two even still together?"I wish.
"When was the last time you spoke to her?"I can't remember.
"Are the rumors true that you've been seeing puck bunnies?"Heaven help me, I don't know why I did that.
That last question from Slater, the tool. He knows because he and Mandy are friends.
I don't answer out loud.
I can't.
My mouth snaps shut, and everything I planned to say is sucked into my lungs, my jaws shut so tight it hurts. A dull throb in my temples is coupled with a roar in my ears, and everything else is drowned out. I didn't know.
Melly's skating again.
Coach steps forward fast, planting himself between me and the press scrum.
"Pipe down!" Coach bellows over the melee, clapping his hands together loudly. "Enough of the BS, let's get down to business."
Groans of protest ripple through the room, but I've already dropped behind the line of players and am scrolling the sports news when I come across it.
Amelia Smith Takes First Place at the Canadian Nationals.
The footage begins mid-performance. Melly was always the best and brightest on the ice. I loved to watch her skate until I selfishly wanted her to myself. Like breathing, she glides across the ice effortlessly, weaving intricate spins and leaps that defy gravity. Flowing seamlessly from one movement to the next, her routine is a powerful blend of precision and artistry.
The footage cuts to the scoreboard. Her name is at the very top. After a moment of stunned silence, Melly jumps, laughing, her hands flying to her mouth before she's attacked by her fellow skaters, throwing their arms around her. Her coach draws her into a hug.
Another clip loads.
A grid fills the screen with her past year's events and results. She had been competing at mastery levels long before I opened our marriage. She was already pulling away from me, and I had no idea.
Then, a montage of her competitions plays. Podium finishes stacked one after another. Silver, Bronze, and Gold.
The headlines continue.
Top Olympic Contender. Ranked for Next Month.
Amelia Smith — Chasing Gold at Next Month's Olympics.
Darkhorse Darling, Amelia Smith, Takes the Ice Skating World by Storm.
She stands there crying as the winners are awarded their medals, and she's at the very top of the pyramid.
She's beautiful. Glowing. Alive. Thriving.
And she did it all without me.
I lower the phone slowly as the noise of the room returns, stifling me. She doesn't need me. I don't stand a chance.
