Life on the Edge Page 16

  “My feelings aren’t going to change,” Sergei said without hesitation.

  “You can’t know that for certain,” Mom shot back.

  Sergei’s eyes met mine, and I saw the depth of love in them. “I know,” he reiterated.

  The hairs on the back of my neck rose, and my lips parted into a smile.

  “I’d like to talk to Emily alone now,” Mom declared.

  I jerked my head in her direction, shocked at her sudden request, but I didn’t question it. “Okay, I’m gonna walk Sergei out.”

  “I’m sorry we weren’t up front with you,” Sergei said as he stood. “I’d be happy to talk more whenever you want.”

  “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have more questions,” Mom replied in a biting tone.

  Outside, next to Sergei’s car, I said, “I am so sorry. I know that had to be painful.”

  “It’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around me. “It could’ve been worse.”

  “You should’ve heard some of the things she said before you came down. I can only imagine the earful I’m going to get when I go back inside.”

  “Call me later to let me know how it goes.”

  “I will. I’m sorry our night got ruined.”

  His hands massaged my back. “We’ll have plenty more nights.”

  He kissed me, and I momentarily forgot about the evening’s drama. As Sergei climbed into his car, I rolled my knotted neck and steeled myself for the second round of interrogation.

  I walked into the house, and Mom came out of the guest bedroom off the foyer. Her mouth was clamped so tight the tiny wrinkles at the corners were more visible than her lips.

  “You two looked pretty cozy,” she said.

  I stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Were you watching us through the window?”

  “Can you blame me for being curious?”

  I placed my hands on both sides of my face, forcing myself to stay calm. “I need to get everything we left on the terrace.”

  Upstairs, I shut off the stereo and picked up the pizza. Once piping hot and mouth-watering, my culinary creation was now cold and unappealing. I blew out the candles and fingered a rose petal, silently mourning my lost evening with Sergei.

  Mom eyed the bouquet. “Those are pretty.”

  “Wow, a positive comment,” I said dryly.

  “Don’t be smart with me.”

  I didn’t say anything else as we cleared the table and made a couple of trips up and down the four flights of stairs. My wish that Mom would tire and forego more discussion didn’t come true. She requested I join her in the living room, where she parked herself on the sofa. I slipped off my wedge heels and tucked my legs under me, trying to get as comfortable as possible. This was not going to be a brief conversation.

  “I’m surprised you let Sergei leave so soon,” I said.

  “He had such smooth answers for everything. I figured I would get more information out of you without him here.”

  Would you rather he sound like a bumbling idiot?

  I kept that comment to myself and said, “Tell me what else you want to know.”

  Mom’s stare bore into me. “I want to know how my smart, independent daughter has gotten herself into such a mess.”

  “Mom, come on.”

  “Sergei already has so much control over your life with your skating, and now he’s controlling your personal life, too. Making you lie to everyone–”

  “It was my decision not to tell you about us. He’s not controlling my life.”

  “You’re so blinded by this . . . love,” she sputtered. “I don’t think you can see anything clearly.”

  Heat spread over my scalp. I squeezed my temples and counted to ten. “Why can’t you open up your mind a little bit and consider the possibility this isn’t a horrible thing?”

  “Because I have a bad feeling about this, Emily. I don’t see this ending well for you.”

  “Is it that hard for you to believe Sergei could love me?”

  The firm lines on her face softened, and she laid a hand on my forearm. “I’m concerned this is more infatuation than love. You work so closely together, and I know how much you look up to Sergei and admire him. I’m worried you’ve both blurred all the lines somehow.”

  I removed my arm from under her touch. Her gesture wasn’t comforting; it felt patronizing.

  “Please give me some credit. I’m not some naïve girl who’s fallen under his spell. Our relationship took a while to develop. We were friends first.”

  “Maybe you should explain how this came about, then.”

  I launched into the story of how Sergei and I went from being friends to falling in love, telling her about all the cups of coffee we’d shared, the Sting concert, and the dinner party. Mom’s eyebrows jerked up and down as I recounted the first kiss at the cliffs and the second one at Nationals. She didn’t interrupt, not even once, which was almost as strange as sitting there, describing those romantic highlights to her.

  Mom stayed quiet, apparently processing my long and involved explanation. When she finally spoke, she said, “That’s quite a story. Makes me wonder how you’ve managed to skate so well with all these distractions.”

  “I told you none of this has affected my training, and it’s the truth.”

  “Are you going to tell Chris about this after Worlds?”

  “That’s the plan. I’m hoping he won’t be as negative about it as you are.” I picked up one of the small red throw pillows and fluffed it as a release of frustration.

  “I’m being realistic, which is something you need. You’re living in a fantasy world if you think you can keep this a secret. Look at tonight. You didn’t expect me to show up here. How long do you think you can hide this?”

  “As long as we have to. It can’t become public knowledge.”

  “Because you know it wouldn’t be well received. And there’s a reason for that–because it’s not an appropriate relationship.”

  I threw my head back with a loud sigh. “We’re not doing anything wrong. I’m an adult, and Sergei is six measly years older than me. He’s not manipulating or controlling me. Reactions like yours are the reason we have to keep this quiet. People wouldn’t understand, and they’d jump to all the wrong conclusions.”

  Mom pursed her lips, and I could see her forming a new list of questions. I often thought my mother must’ve been a lawyer in a former life or perhaps an investigative journalist.

  “Do you know anything about Sergei’s past relationships?” she asked.

  Avoiding her penetrating gaze, I focused on the seascape painting on the opposite wall. “We haven’t talked much about them.”

  “Maybe that’s because he’s trying to hide something. You know, before you started working with him, I asked him why he retired from skating so soon, and all he said was he’d wanted to move on. Considering he was part of Russia’s most promising young team, I doubt it was that simple.”

  I slapped the pillow in my lap. “I don’t care what happened eight years ago.” Actually, I was very curious, but I wasn’t going to give Mom the satisfaction of knowing that.

  She tilted her head to one side and touched my shoulder. “You’re so trusting, Em. You always have been. It can be a good thing, but you have to be careful.”

  “I think I have pretty good instincts, and Sergei’s never given me any reason not to trust him.”

  She retracted her hand and brushed the back of the sofa, wiping away imaginary dust particles. “Well, trustworthy or not, I don’t like this situation and I’m not going to pretend to. I suppose there’s nothing I can do about it, though, since I’d only be hurting you if I fired Sergei.”

  “Could you just give us a chance?” I pleaded. “There are so few people we can tell about our relationship. It would be really nice to have your support.”

  “I can’t support something I think will end up causing you pain. I hope you’ll come to your senses soon and see what a mistake this is.”

  My throat tightened, an
d I rocketed up from the couch. “I can’t listen to this anymore. I’m sorry you can’t get past your doubts and suspicions to see that I have someone very special in my life. I hope in time you can understand.”

  I stalked toward the stairs and escaped to my bedroom. Flopping down on the bed, I took deep breaths. The cool breeze from the open window drifted over me, but my skin remained flushed with frustration. With the World Championships a week away, I didn’t need my mother’s negativity bringing me down. What I needed was her support as I prepared for the most important competition I’d ever faced.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I stood at my hotel room window, legs jiggling. Back and forth I glanced from the Vancouver skyline to the clock on the nightstand, willing the red digital numbers to surge forward.

  Three o’clock p.m. Four hours until show time.

  I wanted to skate our short program right at that moment, before my nervous energy could spiral out of control and cause me to have a panic attack at center ice. That would certainly be a memorable start to our World Championships.

  Thankful Dad had called and suggested taking a walk, I scribbled a note on the Fairmont’s stationery, letting Aubrey know I was going out. I set it against the pillows on her bed and grabbed my fleece jacket from the closet. As I swung open the room door, Sergei’s clenched hand paused in mid-knock. We both laughed.

  In Sergei’s other hand, he held the book I’d given him for Christmas. He offered it to me with a smile. “I kept forgetting to let you borrow this at home, so I brought it with me.”

  “Thanks, I could use something relaxing to read.”

  Tiny creases formed on his brow. “You hanging in okay?”

  I took a deep breath. “Getting a little jittery.”

  “Just keep thinking positive thoughts.”

  “I will.” I leaned against the door frame and hugged the book to my chest. “Sitting around here is making me stir crazy, so Dad and I are going for a walk.”

  “Good. That’ll help pass the time.” He walked backwards down the hall. “I’ll meet you and Chris downstairs at five.”

  I stayed in the doorway and sighed as Sergei turned his back to me. The man definitely knew how to wear a pair of jeans. Once he disappeared from sight, I brought the book over to the nightstand, excited to curl up with it in bed later.

  I went down to the lobby and found Dad sitting in one of the stiff decorative chairs. He was examining a colorful tourist map of Vancouver. I pecked his cheek, and he folded the map.

  “The waterfront’s a few blocks away if you want to check it out,” he said. “There’s supposedly a great view of the mountains there.”

  “Sounds good. You should be able to get some great shots.” I pointed to the camera bag in his lap. “Is Mom still upstairs working?”

  “Yeah, she has three more essays to grade. She wants to finish them before tonight.”

  We headed for the revolving glass door, while Sergei came out of the skaters and coaches’ hospitality room, his path crossing ours. My already jumpy stomach quivered even more.

  Dad and Sergei hadn’t seen each other since I’d told my father about Sergei and me. He’d expressed his concerns to me in a gentle manner, unlike Mom, but I wasn’t sure what to expect from a face-to-face meeting.

  “How are you, Jim?” Sergei extended his hand.

  Dad didn’t hesitate in accepting the handshake. “Good to see you, Sergei.” He glanced at me and back at Sergei. “Why don’t you join us on our walk? It’ll give us a chance to talk.”

  “Dad . . .” I said with trepidation. An intense conversation about my relationship with Sergei was not what I needed now.

  “Nothing heavy,” Dad promised. “Just want to get to know Sergei better.”

  After witnessing Mom’s snippiness, Sergei was wide-eyed at Dad’s cordial behavior. “Sure, I’d be glad to.”

  The three of us ventured out, and between the buildings along the busy downtown corridor, I spied mountains in the distance. Our four-block walk took us straight to Burrard Inlet, its crystal blue water glistening under the afternoon sun. Behind the waterway sat North Vancouver and a stretch of mountains with a dusting of snow on its peaks.

  While Dad snapped photos of a seaplane coming in for a landing, Sergei and I leaned against the concrete barrier lining the inlet. I closed my eyes and breathed in the fresh sea breeze. The gentle, salty wind reminded me of sitting on my terrace at home. I tried to summon the serenity I always felt in my favorite spot, but the looming competition kept all my muscles tight.

  “Positive thoughts,” Sergei said.

  My lips tweaked into a smile, and I opened my eyes. “How did you know what I was thinking about?”

  “It’s part of my job.” He winked.

  Dad stood next to Sergei and asked, “Is this your first time in Vancouver?”

  “It’s my first time in Canada. Before I started coaching on the Cape, I didn’t do much traveling to competitions. I was mostly a secondary coach, so I didn’t get to attend many events.”

  “You coached in Chicago before the Cape, right?” Dad asked.

  Sergei nodded. “And Virginia before that.”

  “Chicago’s a fun city. I’ve been to a few seminars there.”

  “I liked it a lot, but I’ve realized I enjoy living in a small town more, even though I grew up in a big city.”

  Dad inspected his camera lens and wiped a smudge with his sleeve. “Do you think you’ll ever want to go back to Moscow?”

  I suppressed a grin. Dad was a lot smoother than Mom at digging for information. What he really wanted to know was, Are you going to go back to Russia and leave my daughter behind with a broken heart, or worse yet, take her away from us?

  Sergei shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “No, I’m actually trying to talk my parents into moving to the States after my father retires in a few years. I know my mother would love it, but my father’s pretty set in his ways. Neither of them speak English, so it would be a big adjustment.”

  Sergei’s phone rang, and he pulled it from his pocket. “Speaking of my mother . . .”

  He wandered a few steps to answer the phone, and I smiled at Dad. “His mom always calls to wish his teams luck when we compete.”

  “Sounds like they have a close relationship.”

  “They talk a lot.” I turned to watch a flock of seagulls descend on the pavement. “Can you imagine if I lived that far away from Mom? She was bawling when I moved an hour from home.”

  “I miss having you around, too.” Dad put his arm around me and kissed the top of my head.

  “I really appreciate you making an effort with Sergei. I know this situation is less than ideal.”

  “You’ve always made good choices. I don’t think you would’ve decided to pursue this relationship if you weren’t absolutely certain you could handle it.” Dad hugged me to his side. “All I want is for you to be happy.”

  I circled my arms around him. “Thanks, Dad.” With a laugh, I added, “Can you make Mom feel the same way?”

  He chuckled. “You know I don’t have that kind of power.”

  After Sergei finished his call, we strolled back to the hotel, where I found the note I’d left for Aubrey now on my bed. Under my message was Aubrey’s bubbly script–Out with Nick. Good luck tonight!!!!

  I checked the clock and began to assemble my beauty products. The process of getting ready for a competition took twice as long as fixing hair and makeup on a normal day. Every pore needed to be covered with layers of foundation and powder, every eyelash perfectly lengthened. The lipstick had to shine enough to be seen from the top row of the arena.

  Chris showed up at my door as I finished corralling my hair into a tight bun. “I got tired of sitting in my room, so I thought I’d come sit in yours.”

  “I’ll be ready in a few minutes.” I plucked the bottle of hair spray from my rolling bag and returned to the bathroom.

  Satisfied every lock of hair was firmly in place, I gathere
d my makeup case and spare hairpins and shut off the bathroom light. Chris was sitting on my bed, reading the Lyrics book.

  His brow wrinkled. “Did Sergei loan this book to someone else before you?”

  I shoved everything from my hands into my bag. “Mm . . . I don’t think so. Why?”

  “He wrote something in here.”

  Curiosity and concern combined to speed up my pulse. I held out my hand for the book. “Where?”

  Chris passed it to me, opened to the page for the song “Desert Rose.” Under the lyrics was a handwritten note–You are my desert rose.

  After my heart stopped fluttering, reality slapped me in the face. I stared at the page, not wanting to look at Chris. This cannot be happening. We have to skate the most important program of our lives in two hours.

  “Why would he write that?” Chris asked.

  I made a snap decision to lie because this wasn’t a discussion we could have in ten minutes. “I don’t know, but this wasn’t meant for me.” I set the book on the bed and turned to my bag.

  “Who’s it for, then? I’ve never seen him with anyone or heard him talk about a girlfriend.”

  I zipped and unzipped the compartments of my bag with such force I was surprised they didn’t break. “I don’t know his personal business.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chris pick up the book and flip through the pages.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “I’m looking to see if he wrote anything else.”

  Oh, no, what if he wrote my name . . .

  I shot over to the bed and tried to pull the book out of Chris’s hands. “Don’t worry about it. We don’t have time for this.”

  He gawked at me and refused to loosen his grip. “What’s your problem?”

  “Nothing! Just forget about it. We need to go.”

  He took a quick look at the clock. “We still have time.”

  My mind scrambled with thoughts, some of which spilled out of my mouth. “If he wrote stuff, then it’s private and we shouldn’t be reading it. I’m going to give it back to him.”

  “If it’s private, why’d he lend it to you?”

  I returned to my bag, swallowing the bile in my throat. “I don’t know. Maybe he forgot that was in there.” How many more lies can I tell?