CHAPTER FIFTEEN

TUESDAY MORNING DANIIL, HIS COACHES, and Yelena Baryatinskaya, Lake Shosha’s top ladies singles skater, went to meet with a reporter from a Canadian sports network. Daniil would have preferred to spend the time practicing, or sleeping. But it was better than thinking about how he and Tabitha had left things Sunday night.

He’d kissed her out of spite, a reaction to what she’d said about how true love and happy endings were bullshit. That her response had turned him on only stoked his anger. Anger directed less toward her, and more at himself. They’d barely spoken in the cab. Back at the hotel, he’d holed up in his cave and licked his wounds.

The light of day had brought him to his senses. She’d made it clear her first night in Vancouver she wasn’t interested in him romantically. What happened in Chicago stayed there. Caught up in his hopes that something might develop between them, he’d conveniently forgotten.

To Tabitha, love equaled heartbreak, and following your passions led to disaster. She didn’t want to suffer the way her mom and sister had. He’d tried to show her he was different. When he’d tried to give her hope, she’d cut him off, not interested in hearing it.

What did he know, anyway? He had a terrible reputation and was the son of a man whose reputation was worse. She disapproved of him taking Nikolai’s money, but what choice did he have? No sponsor would touch him. The Federation would be just as happy to see him quit. She seemed to think it was an easy decision, but she didn’t have a clue.

He had a skating competition to win. Best to concentrate on that.

“Why do we have to do this?” said Yelena, as they approached the room where the reporter and her camera crew waited. “The Western press only wants to portray us as villains, or twist our words to imply we are all drug cheats.”

“Competing while Russian is risky business,” Daniil said, only half-joking.

Anton, who’d been in a bad mood all week, glared. Daniil was used to everyone thinking the worst of him, but Yelena wasn’t. Back home, she was adored by fans and celebrated as a role model. Here, she was a stranger with a hard to pronounce name and a poor command of English, who was going up against the local favorites.

Anton stopped walking and put a hand on Yelena’s shoulder. “You are not a drug cheat. You are one of the world’s best figure skaters; you are talented and work hard. No one can take that from you.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Ilya added. “We are here with you, so there is nothing to be afraid of.”

She hugged Anton and Ilya, but stopped short of doing the same to Daniil. They’d had a brief fling last season, just one of those things that sometimes happened between two people who were together a lot. At least he’d seen it that way. According to rink gossip, Lena hadn’t. Since, she’d kept her distance.

“And Lena,” Daniil said, looking into her gray eyes, fringed with reddish brown bangs. “If the reporter asks questions you don’t like, just distract her by saying something bad about me.”

Her mouth twisted in a smirking smile. “That won’t be hard.”

He’d hurt her, and this was the result. Just one more relationship gone bad. Tabitha was right, it was all bullshit.

A stick-thin, forty-ish blonde sat among four empty chairs arranged in a circle. Daniil assumed it was to make them feel comfortable, but it didn’t have much effect on Lena. She hung back as if she were about to face a firing squad.

Visible nerves only made reporters more suspicious, so he reached for her hand. She took it and offered a tentative smile. They walked over to the circle and sat in the chairs closest together. Only then did she let go of him. The reporter’s gaze lingered, as she introduced herself and then offered a wide, red-lipped smile. The video camera lights went on, and the interview began.

“Daniil, this will be an amazing season for you. We’re all thrilled to see you take the ice this weekend for the Maple Leaf Classic.”

“Thank you,” he said. “It means a lot for me to be here, competing against skaters like your champion, Mitch Hastings and Brett Stafford, from United States. The men’s field will be very exciting this year.”

“You’ve had an amazing comeback, following your drug suspension four seasons ago. But you’ve remained controversial, and this past summer, you were arrested again. How do you respond to that?”

Anton jumped in to answer. “I’ll respond to it by saying his suspension was not for performance drugs, but recreational, one-time use of marijuana. The incident you refer to in Delaware was settled before a judge who found Daniil not guilty of charges. Everyone makes mistakes, but this skater has worked hard to put his behind him.”

Daniil nodded. “Few expected me to stay in skating after Bogdanov dropped me, but working with coaches who believe in me has helped me turn things around.”

His dig at Yuri Bogdanov wasn’t lost on the reporter. “Well, there’s no question you’ve become a more dynamic skater. If things go right, you could skate in Grenoble next February. What does that mean to you?”

How could he even put it into words? In four years, his life had changed. He had a future in the sport he loved, not only as a competitor, but maybe even afterward. Tabitha had said he’d make a good coach, and that meant a lot. If he could take one positive thing from his last day with her, it was that. “Sometimes it’s hard to believe, but I’m determined to make the most of it.”

As the interviewer shifted her focus to Yelena, Daniil kept thinking about Tabitha. Maybe he should call her to apologize for being such a zhopa. It would bring him some peace and make it easier to focus on skating. He didn’t want things to be awkward between them. Even if they couldn’t have a relationship, they didn’t have to be enemies.

Beside him, Yelena was talking. “...the competition is very strong this year, especially from the Americans, Mia Lang, and Tabitha Turner.”

The mention of Tabitha’s name grabbed his attention and drew him back to the conversation.

The reporter nodded. “Mia Lang is a skater to watch. But Tabitha’s performance at Star Spangled Skate was disappointing. She’s getting older, and it’s hard not to wonder if her time has passed.”

Daniil jumped in, ready to defend her. “Just because she isn’t sixteen doesn’t mean she’s not a contender. There’s a lot of pressure on skaters this season, and since we share the same choreographer, I know she’s been working hard this week here in Vancouver.”

After the interview, the reporter approached Daniil. “Thanks for the heads up that Tabitha was here in Vancouver this week. I’ll be sure to ask about it, when I interview her and her fiancé tomorrow.”

Daniil blinked. That couldn’t be right. Tabitha claimed she had no experience with men. He assumed that ruled out fiancés. The reporter must have it wrong though it was her job to know such things. His mouth felt dry. “Fiancé?”

“Brett Stafford,” the woman said with a smile. “It’s all very hush-hush, but they’ve been dating for months. With Tabitha retiring at the end of the season, everyone expects a big announcement to come any day.”

Daniil gave a short, harsh laugh. Not everyone. But people lied all the time. How many times had something that felt too good to be true, turned out to be exactly that?

The small flame of hope, that he and Tabitha might find their way to each other, flickered out.

After two days of exploring Vancouver on her own, Tabitha was ready for a quiet evening in her room. After an hour, she was about to climb the walls. She checked in with Samara, but she was working on a project for her Intro to Documentary class, and too busy to talk. So was Fiona, who was interviewing for a new job tomorrow, and had sprung for a rare, professional haircut. Tabitha wished her mom luck and hung up. In the week she’d been gone, her family was thriving. It made Tabitha miss them even more than she had before the call.

With time on her hands, her thoughts returned to Sunday. She’d wanted to discourage Daniil, and she’d almost been successful. Except the way she’d melted into that damn kiss had given her away. Not that it mattered to him. He was only trying to help her get into character. This made it all worse.

She wandered about the room, all restless energy, and a queasy stomach. There were no answers here, just misery. She grabbed her purse and headed out into the early evening.

Downtown Vancouver was more laid back than Beverly Hills, with fewer cars, and casually dressed people. She passed a coffee shop with sidewalk tables. It seemed a welcoming place to hang out, so she bought a cup of herbal tea and found a seat. At a table across from her, a blond woman sat beside a handsome guy with longish dark hair. He put his arm around the blond’s shoulders and leaned in to whisper in her ear. Her face brightened with a huge smile and she swatted his arm.

The sight made her miss Daniil.

Now that the Lake Shosha skaters had arrived he was busy with his friends and preparing for the competition. There was no time or place for her. What they’d shared last week was over.

She ached at the thought of letting it go. Daniil, in all his tattooed guy-lined glory, saw something in her no one else did. She’d told him things she wouldn’t have told anyone else.

Could that have been the problem? When he’d said he preferred to see and know the person she really was, she’d hoped it was true. But the real Tabitha was coarse and common. Her family was broke. He came from a world of billionaires, trust funds, and glamorous mothers who divorced dukes. She couldn’t blame him for staying away.

Their time together had given her something she’d always treasure, and for that, she was grateful. A phone call seemed pushy, but she could message him. Nothing heavy or emotional, just good luck wishes. She took out her phone and typed a brief note, but couldn’t bring herself to send it. Instead, she clicked around on social media, when something caught her eye—an interview Daniil had done this morning with a Canadian TV network.

She clicked it open and wished she hadn’t.

Daniil sat beside Yelena Baryatinskaya, holding her hand. As a nervous Yelena struggled in broken, accented English, Daniil jumped in with the right word, so in tune with her thoughts, he could finish them. The interviewer was charmed. “You two are just adorable. How long have you been together?”

Yelena’s face froze with the awkward stiffness of someone who’d just been outed. Daniil looked over at the redhead and smiled. “We’re not dating. Just close friends.”

Tabitha almost choked on her tea.

So there was a woman back in Russia. That must have been what he wanted to tell her Sunday night, all about his “close friend” Yelena. She’d known whatever he’d been about to say, she didn’t need to hear it. Thank God, she’d listened to her instincts.

She tossed the phone on the table and dropped her head in her hands.

“Howdy!” Brett Stafford’s familiar greeting made her look up. Her friend was on the sidewalk headed toward the hotel and had spotted her as he passed the café.

She looked up and forced a smile. “When did you get in?”

“Two hours ago.” He held up the drug-store bag he carried. “As usual, I forgot a few things. Want company?”

“Sure. Why not?”

He went inside for a cup of coffee and joined her a few minutes later. He pulled his chair up and leaned in close. “I’ve got news,” he said, in a sing-song whisper.

“Oh?”

Brett glanced over at the neighboring tables. No one was paying them any attention. He kept his voice down. “Sergei’s coming to see me on Saturday!”

“All the way from Moscow?”

“No, he’s playing in a tournament across town that ends Saturday afternoon. He says he’s planned something special.” Brett smiled. There was giddiness in his blue eyes she understood all too well. “And you know how Russian men are. Very romantic.”

“Oh yeah. They’re romantic all right.”

Brett missed the sarcasm. “Thank God you’re here to cover for me! If I don’t come back to my room, people will just assume I stayed overnight with my main squeeze.”

Since the International Series required participating skaters to room with a family member or same-sex teammate, Tabitha’s solo hotel room gave Brett a plausible alibi. “Hey, why not? It’s not like I’ll have any hot and heavy plans.”

Sensing she was upset, Brett leaned forward. “Sounds like trouble.”

He shrugged and scooted his chair closer, to put his arm around her shoulder. She rested her cheek against his faded US Figure Skating t-shirt, which felt soft against her skin. “Come on, Tabs. Spill. You keep my secrets, I’ll keep yours.”

They’d been friends long enough that she knew he wouldn’t let it go until she did. He’d warned her and she should have listened. She deserved a few told-you-sos. But Brett would also take her side and comfort her the way he always did. So she told him the story, and even fished out her phone, so he could watch the incriminating evidence.

Surprisingly, he seemed unimpressed. “So what? He said he and Yelena were just friends. You and I are close enough to finish each other’s sentences, too.”

“I don’t think their relationship is quite like ours.” She returned the phone to her purse and slumped down in her chair. “This past week, everything was wonderful. I was thinking this guy might be different. But I was wrong.”

“On the basis of one interview, where he says he’s not dating the girl?”

“It isn’t just the interview. I told him things about myself and my crazy family that would make most guys run. Then on Sunday night we kissed, and I got really into it. Except it wasn’t a real kiss. He was only trying to get me into character for my program. I made a complete fool of myself, and in the cab on the way back to the hotel, it was very awkward. He hasn’t even tried to get in touch with me since then.”

“I’m sure the fact he has a major competition in three days has nothing to do with it. Have you reached out to him?”

“I thought about it. But, no.”

Brett clapped his hand over his eyes and groaned. “Oh my God. This is so high school.”

Her spine stiffened, and her defenses rose. “Yeah, well high school and college are just two of the normal-people experiences I missed out on, so I’m a bit behind on things. And why aren’t you taking this seriously? You tried to warn me. Don’t you want to gloat for being right?”

“I don’t want to see you miserable. If this guy makes you happy, I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. There’s nothing here,” he gestured at her phone, “that convinces me otherwise.

“But he’s a distraction I don’t need right now, and definitely not worth the trouble.”

“If you say so. I still think you should sit down and have an honest conversation with the guy, though kindly, after this weekend. Don’t forget, we have a lovey-dovey interview of our own coming up. How’s it going to look if the future Mrs. Brett Stafford is getting all slinky with Daniil Andreev?”

She thought of the times Brett stood up for her, how he’d always been kind and never judged. He deserved a romantic night with his dream guy, even if her romance had turned out to be nothing but a nightmare. “No one’s getting slinky, so you have nothing to worry about. I’ve got your back.”

Brett leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I appreciate it,” he said. “And so does Sergei.”