Page 44 of Skating and Fake Dating
I’m not sure either, but it calls into question everything I said on the car ride here. I’m afraid I’m not ready to let go of the lifeline I clung to after everything that happened with Charlene—convincing myself that true love isn’t real.
“Me, you, what’s the difference?” I realize this blurs the lines. What if I like that Bailey has brought the real me back by degrees?
She says, “We had an agreement.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
She studies me for a long moment. “Then we don’t have to. We can tell them the truth in the morning.”
Either she’s purposely pretending she doesn’t know what I mean or she’s not interested. Okay. Message received. Her sister is probably right about potential human resource issues anyway, since we’re both affiliated with the NHL.
She asks, “Why did you stick up for me to begin with when my sister was picking apart my failed business venture?”
It’s a fair question, one I’ve been asking myself all evening. “Honestly? Based on what you told me, I instantly saw how your family looks at you, how they compare you to your sister, how they talk about your ex likeyoulost some prize. And I wanted to show them they’re wrong.”
“So it was pity?”
“No,” I say firmly. “Admiration. You’re building something from scratch—your career, your life. That takes courage. More courage than following someone else’s five-year plan.”
She looks at me with those wide eyes that first caught my attention when she made me laugh in the galley at the Ice Palace. “You really believe that?”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
She’s quiet for a moment, then says, “This wasn’t supposed to get complicated.”
“I know.”
“My family thinks we’re serious,” she says, belaboring the point.
“I know that, too.”
“If we—if this ends badly ...” She trails off, vulnerability like speed bumps in her voice.
I contemplate taking her hand, but I’m afraid she’s going to pull away. “Bailey, I don’t know what this is between us. But I do know that pretending to be with you today felt more real than anything has in a long time.”
“The team expects you to have a stable personal life now. That’s what your agent wanted,” she says as if not just keeping physical distance between us but emotional too.
“Yeah, but—” I shrug.
“But—?” she asks as if seeking clarity, but I don’t have words for that.
“What if we just see how things go?”
Her gaze tips toward mine. The space between us shrinks, and for a moment, I think I might kiss her again. I want to. But instead, I stand, knowing we’re both running on a sleep deficit and will have a fresh take on what happened between Nebraska and Washington and every moment since in the morning.
After freshening up and saying goodnight, instead of crashing like I should, I stare at the ceiling, trying to listen to the particular settling noises the house makes rather than the racket in my head and the keen awareness that a beautiful woman is a few feet away.
After I’ve rewound and relived the same scenes with Bailey, instead of counting sheep, I try counting otters, but then I catch the shine of her eyes in the darkness.
“Are you awake?” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
“Want to sneak out?”
“We’re adults, do we have to sneak out?”
The air mattress makes a dull squeaking sound as she shiftsher weight. “I always wanted to sneak out to meet a boy when I lived at home. Odette had it down to a science.”
