Eileen and my mother wind their way through the milling crowd of fencers and their families and coaching staff and make their way towards me. Alexis isn’t with them. I push away the white-hot stab of disappointment. When I told her I was fencing in this competition she said she’d be here.

I guess she got distracted.

Just two weeks ago she whispered that she loves me while thought I was sleeping, but she’s yet to repeat the statement while I’m awake, and ever since that night she’s behaved … not strangely exactly, but it seems like she has even less time for me.

She’s putting more than sixteen hours a day into the museum problem, and on the rare occasions when she’s not there she’s talking about the museum. It’s like it consumes her. I’m starting to get kind of jealous of it.

My mother smiles and hugs me. “Good luck,” she murmurs.

The event’s not as important as the European Fencing Masters Championships, but it’s the first step towards redeeming my Olympic performance.

I lean down kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Your father managed to clear his schedule enough to catch your first round.” Her eyes sparkle. “He’s in the parking lot, talking to a group of youngsters he found. I should go rescue him, otherwise he’ll forget why he’s here.”

She moves off. To my surprise, Eileen doesn’t follow at her heels like she usually does, but hangs back.

I raise my brow. “Is there a problem?”

Eileen shakes her head and offers me a small smile. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m rooting for you – and that after you win the match, there’s going to be a small press conference so you can discuss your win.”

A press conference without Alexis. That’ll be interesting. “Assuming I win, you mean”

“You will.” Eileen leans over my large equipment bag and squeezes my arm. “After all, you’re the best.”

I grunt a response before she turns and follows my mother. I wish I shared her confidence. The truth is that I’m hyper aware of the fact that I’m getting older while most of the competition is still quite young. I’m finally starting to realize that simply staying on top until the next Olympics is going to be an uphill battle itself. Let alone redeeming myself…

I look around, taking in the wide variety of fencers preparing for their first rounds. Each one of them proud of their abilities and confident that they’ll walk away with the championship.

Seven, eight years ago, few fencers traveled to Moravia for competitions. We were only starting to develop a strong national team and hadn’t gained enough respect for our competition to draw much interest from other countries.

Things had changed. Today's competition isn't large enough to garner much interest from heavyweight countries like the United States and Russia with the resources needed to put on their own events and keep their national teams close to home, but it's big enough. The competition's going to be fierce – and it gets harder every year.

As it’s grown, I’ve enjoyed watching how the different cultures come together over a shared love of my preferred sport.

A tall gangly kid with a bandaged ankle and crutches, who’s old enough to be even taller than me but young enough to possess that rangy, half-starved look of adolescence approaches.

“Mister … Prince … Your Majesty …” the more the young man struggles to land on the proper term of address, the stronger his melodic South African accent becomes.

There was a time when I would have stood here, amused, while he continued to babble, but those days are behind me. I’m a better person now. Alexis has a lot to do with that. She doesn’t take my shit…

“Please, call me Lucas.”

The kid eyeballs me as if he’s sensing some kind of trap. “But –”

“At home I’m a prince,” I tell him. “Here I’m just another fencer. Like you.”

The boy nods. “I’m going to represent my country at the next Olympics.”

“So right here, right now and at any other competition we meet at, I’m Lucas, and you are…”

“JoJo.”

“JoJo,” I repeat. “So right now, we’re just Lucas and JoJo. Okay?”

He nods. I don’t have to wait long for him to tell me what he wants. “I’ve always admired your style and I hoped you’d give me some tips.”

I look down at the bandage and crutches. “Other than not wrecking yourself?”

He grins, showing off teeth that gleam as bright as truce flags and chuckles.

“Aye,” he chortles. “I tripped and cracked two bones and broke a toe. Stupid, right?”

He doesn’t appear to be too upset about it. I have a funny feeling it’s a talking point with the ladies…

“It’ll certainly make it hard to practice your foot work.”

The kid throws his head back and roars with laughter. And Alexis thinks I don’t have a sense of humor. Shows what she knows. This kid thinks I’m a riot of laughs. Maybe the problem isn’t me, but her.

“The best piece of advice I can give you, kid, is always be on the offensive. As long as you're moving, as long as you're attacking and keeping your opponent on the run, you’ll do just fine.”

Something – a flash of movement or maybe just instinct, causes me to turn towards the door as Alexis pushes open the door and walks through it. Her bodyguard follows at a discreet distance.

She came. Pleasure warms my chest. I take a moment to drink in her appearance.

On anyone else the navy-blue bandage dress would look sedate, but on her, wow, the things it does to her curves. It's short enough to make her perfectly shaped legs look like they ended at her rib cage. Strappy silver sandals with kitten heels show off her feet, drawing attention to her rainbow-colored toenails. She’s taken extra time with her hair and make-up, something I know she’s done for my benefit.

I wave my hand. She nods a response and changes her angle so she’s walking towards me.

JoJo follows my gaze and lets out a low whistle. “That your woman?”

“Yes,” I murmur. “My wife.” Saying the word gives me a sense of pride and I suddenly realize I want to spend the rest of my life calling her that. I just need to figure out a way to make her realize I’m not as stiff as she thinks.

Looking at her, knowing she’s going to be with my family, watching everything in our private box fills me with the confidence I’ve been missing. I’m going to win this thing. With her watching me, how can I possibly do anything else?

I clap my hand to JoJo’s shoulder. “One more piece of advice.”

“Yeah?”

“Find a good woman and make her your own.”

JoJo laughs and glances back at Alexis. “You got it, man,” he chortles.

Sensing a private moment pending between me and my wife, he balances on his crutches and swings away.

The widest smile I’ve ever seen spreads across Alexis’s face. It touches something deep inside of me.

An image flashes across my mind: Alexis, her hair falling around her shoulders, the same smile on her face. She’s reading a book, probably one of the Stephen King novels she loves, and her hand is resting on the curve of a swollen belly that I know contains my child.

Joy, stronger than anything I’ve ever felt before, shoots through me. My knees nearly buckle.

I want, no, need to make that image a reality. And the only way I can do that is by terminating our wedding contract and making our marriage real – in the forever and always kind of way.

Every fiber in my body ones that the sooner I do, the better. Or else.

She places her hands on my shoulders and kisses me. Her mouth tastes like sweet tea and sunshine.

“Hi,” she murmurs against my mouth.

“Hi, yourself. I was starting to think you wouldn’t make it.”

“I got hung up at the museum. That woman who threw the dinner party … Martha …”

I supply the name. “Hembroke.”

Alexis nods, her face lighting up with recognition. “She called just as I was leaving. She has some antique perfume bottles I admired when I changed into the dress I borrowed from her. The one I liked is missing. She wondered if I knew anything about it.”

The last thing I want to do is talk about the old relics Alexis loves so much but I don’t see any way around it. “Do you?”

“No. I’m sure she simply misplaced it.” Her brow furrows. “Though she seems really organized.”

“I’m sure it'll turn up.” I run my hand up and down her arm, drawing her attention away from her thoughts and back to me. “Hey, do you want to go somewhere private-”

Desire sparks in her eyes.

“-to talk. There’s something I want to run by you, and I’d …” From the other side of the room, Roderick catches my eye and jerks his thumb. I groan.

“Or not. Let me see what he wants and can we talk.”

Having a serious conversation about changing the terms of our marriage might not be the most sensible idea, but there’s no way I’ll be able to concentrate if I don’t share my thoughts with her beforehand.

“Sure.”

I turn away from her.

“Hey, Lucas?”

I look over my shoulder and Alexis nods at my heavy equipment bag. “How ‘bout you just leave that thing here with me instead of dragging it around with you?”