I snorted. “I noticed.”
Dean’s grin should have warned me.
Instead I persevered. “The original version worked perfectly well.”
“Exactly.”
I frowned. “Exactly?”
He nodded. “You’re aiming for perfectly well.”
“That seems desirable.”
Dean groaned and flopped backward onto the pillows. “Thisis why Mark was rubbing his temples most of the morning.”
“Mark wanted us to stop arguing.”
“Mark agreed with me.”
“No. Mark wanted us to stop arguing.”
Dean jabbed a finger at me. “Those are not mutually exclusive.”
I considered that.
As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point.
“Has he recovered?”
“No.” Dean laughed. “Last time I saw him, he was sitting in front of the schedule, still rubbing his temples.”
“I warned him.”
“You warned him you’d have opinions. What you neglected to mention was how many.”
That was probably fair.
“But Harper winning gold will go a long way to making him feel better,” he added. “Except now she’s totally focused on her skate for the gala, which’ll put him right back where he spent most of today.”
Beyond the windows, snow fell in soft lumps. For a while neither of us said anything.
Then Dean nudged my knee. “You know what your problem is?”
I sighed. “I have a feeling you are about to tell me.” I braced myself. “Go on, then.”
“You keep treating this like a competition.”
I frowned. “It is skating.”
“It’s an exhibition.”
“That is still skating.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “No. It’s a chance to do something you’ll remember in twenty years. Thateveryonewill remember.”
I arched my eyebrows. “People generally remember Olympic exhibitions.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”
