Page 166 of The Husband Game

“He’s such a beautiful skater,” Charlie said with a little sigh, so sappy sounding he wanted to smack himself.

Emily smiled. “He’s alright.”

Laughing, Charlie took a sip of his water. “I guess you have to say that.”

“I mean, I can’t blow up his ego too much,” Emily said with a twinkle in her brown eyes. “But between you and me, he’s pretty good. If he hadn’t become an ice hockey player, I think he could have been a decent pairs figure skater.”

“That’s what I thought!” Charlie said. “Maybe in some other universe.”

Maybe in some other universe, Charlie’s mom hadn’t made him grow to loathe the sport. Maybe in some other universe, people weren’t too uptight to let men compete together in pairs or ice dancing programs.

Maybe in some other universe, Dustin and Charlie had won the gold together.

But that wasn’t the reality they lived in.

And yet, as Charlie glanced around, watching Dustin’s dad cheer for him, as he caught Emily smile—so reminiscent of her brother’s—as he watched Dustin shoot a beautiful pass to his teammate, he thought this reality wasn’t so bad.

He felt pretty lucky to be here.

The first period ended with the Fisher Cats holding the lead and after the guys went off the ice, Charlie took a moment to stretch.

“Hey, come eat with us, Charlie,” Meredith called as he dawdled by the edge of the box, watching the Zambonis work their magic.

For a moment, he wished he could be out there, gliding on the ice.

He gripped the metal railing, surprised by the urge. He hadn’t wanted to skate in years. He’d assumed he’d never lace another pair of skates up unless he was forced to.

But maybe he could do that again someday. Not to compete, just to enjoy the feel of the smooth ice under his feet and the cool air on his cheeks.

“Sure,” Charlie said, although his steps were slow as he approached the food table on the far side of the box.

You can do this, he reminded himself.

A massive spread was set up and after a little deliberation, Charlie chose a few bites to eat, then carried his plate over to the bar-height table the Fowlers were clustered around.

It was a bit of a tight squeeze for four people and Meredith let out a little laugh. “Thank goodness you’re only a little thing, Charlie. We’d never fit otherwise.”

Charlie tensed, a mini crab cake halfway to his lips.

“Good thing,” he said a little weakly, frustrated by the way it tasted like ash in his mouth.

She didn’t mean anything by that, he reminded himself.

But she had said it. Well-intentioned or not, she’d probably keep saying it if he didn’t speak up.

Dustin knew about his anorexia now. Why shouldn’t Charlie tell his family? They might look at him differently. But they might not. He’d been so sure Dustin would think less of him, but he hadn’t and …

“I’m anorexic,” he blurted out.

Everyone at the table froze.

He took a deep breath, then another. “I’m—I’m a recovering anorexic. I thought maybe you should know.”

Meredith gave him a stricken look. “Oh, God, I didn’t mean anything by my comment. I … I shouldn’t have said that. I am so sorry. I hope you know how sincerely I mean that.”

“It’s okay.” Charlie smiled tightly before he realized it wasn’t okay. “Well, no, not really but I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Lots of people say things like that without realizing.”

“But it hurt you, didn’t it?” Her expression was filled with compassion.

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