Read Taking the Ice (Ice Series Book 3) Online
Authors: Jennifer Comeaux
Taking the Ice (Ice Series Book 3) (17 page)
I looked down at my glossy medal and then up at Josh’s gorgeous profile, and my tears of joy flowed stronger. I had my dream bling around my neck and on my finger and more love in my heart than I’d ever thought possible.
Epilogue
“
D
OES THIS LOOK STRAIGHT?”
I
ASKED
Josh as I stepped back from the wall. Inside the display box were our silver medals plus photos of the two of us on the ice and our team on the podium. It was the first thing I’d hung in the living room of our new apartment.
Josh looked up from plugging in his keyboard, and he squinted with one eye closed. “Looks perfect.”
I stared at the photos and recalled all the wonderful days we’d spent in Sochi. Josh and I had finished fifth in the pairs event with two more spectacular performances, and we’d made so many new friends from different sports around the world. I couldn’t have written a better ending to our competitive career.
Spinning around, I looked for the next box I should unpack. We’d emptied most of them, and the cozy apartment already felt like home. It was a short commute from Boston College, so I would be set in the fall, and it was also an easy T ride from the studio space Josh had rented.
I rolled up my T-shirt sleeves and reached into my box labeled “Fun Stuff,” pulling out a stack of CDs. As I shelved them in the entertainment center, I smiled at one in particular.
“We should play this at the wedding.” I laughed and showed Josh the
Mickey Unrapped
CD.
“We should. That was the first gift I ever gave you.”
Even though over four years had passed since that night, I could still vividly remember the yearning look in Josh’s eyes and how our kisses had come as hard and fast as the rain against the car.
I hummed softly and filed the disc onto the shelf. “That was such a hot night.”
Josh broke into a slow grin. “I miss our car make-out sessions.”
“I’m game anytime you are.”
He was about to say something, but his laptop rang on the bistro table between the living room and the kitchen. He clicked to answer the video call, and Stephanie’s face popped up on the screen.
“What’s up?” Josh said.
“I’m melting. Why is New York so hot?”
“Welcome to summer in the northeast.”
I sat next to Josh in front of the webcam and enlarged the video. “How’s the new job going?”
“It’s insane. This is the first day I’ve been home before ten.”
“Have you had time to work on the dress alterations?” I asked as I chewed my thumbnail. The wedding was only a few weeks away.
“I almost fell asleep on my sewing machine last night, but yes. And I added a little something I think you’re going to like. I personally think it’s fabulous.” She reached off camera. “Josh, go away. You can’t see this.”
He laughed and pushed his chair back. “I know. Court has already warned me about peeking at photos on her phone.”
He got up and went into the kitchen, and I leaned closer to the computer. Stephanie held up my dress, and I gasped.
“How much do you love it?” she said.
The off-white dress had a simple halter neckline that cut into a deep V, and the skirt flowed softly down to my toes. None of that had changed. The addition was a narrow, pale pink sash tied around the waist with tiny flowers accenting the back.
“Oh my God, it’s perfect!”
Josh took a few steps toward the table. “How can I watch you have that reaction and not die of curiosity?”
“Don’t you dare come any closer.” I held up my hand like a stop sign.
Stephanie hid the dress off screen. “It’s safe now. You can look.”
“We should drive down next weekend to pick it up.” Josh returned to his seat. “We can see your new place.”
“I’ll probably be working the whole time, but you’re welcome to my couch.”
“You’re not going to have trouble getting time off for the wedding, are you?” I asked.
“I told my boss the first day that this vacation time is non-negotiable.”
Josh smiled. “I had no doubt you’d lay down the law.”
Stephanie swept her long hair over one shoulder and combed her fingers through it. “What did you decide to do about Mom and Dad?”
“We’re not inviting them. They barely talked to us at your graduation, and they didn’t even ask about the wedding.”
“I doubt they’d show even if they were invited,” she said.
Josh shrugged. “I don’t let it bother me anymore. As long as you’re there, that’s all that matters to me.”
Stephanie dipped her head, but she couldn’t hide her smile. She cleared her throat and said, “Well, I have no problem representing the family.”
Her phone trilled, and she made a face as she picked it up. “Ugh, it’s work. I have to get it.”
“Go ahead. We’ll talk later about next weekend,” Josh said.
“Thank you again for all your work on the dress!” I said as I waved goodbye.
The video call disconnected, and Josh went back to setting up his keyboard. I finished unpacking the CDs and then drifted over to him, watching him carefully clean the keys.
“Are you ready to christen the apartment with a song?” I asked.
He smiled and slid onto the small bench. “I know exactly the one to play.”
I stood behind him with my hands resting lightly on his shoulders, and he set his fingers on the keys. I had an idea what he might play, and my heart warmed at the first few notes. My favorite rendition of “Over the Rainbow.” I angled forward and kissed his cheek, and I watched as his hands filled our new home with beautiful noise.
As he pressed the final key he turned to smile at me, and I wound my arms around him. He pulled me onto his lap, and our lips came together in a long, slow kiss that also hit all the right notes.
“This is officially our place now,” he said between sweet kisses on my lips and my neck and my shoulder.
“I love the sound of that.” I threaded my fingers into his hair. “Our place.”
“It’s still blowing my mind that we’re going to be a married couple in a few weeks.”
“Let’s make a vow that we’ll never be an old, boring married couple. Even when we’re shuttling kids to ballet practice and baseball games and attending PTA meetings.”
“Us? Boring? Not possible. We’re going to be the cool couple all the other parents aspire to be. They’ll want all our secrets.”
“And what will our secrets be?”
He thought a minute. “Number one — any time we feel stressed we have a lip sync party.”
I laughed. “I like that.”
“Number two.” He slipped the rubber band from my ponytail and gently untangled my curls. “I make my wife feel appreciated and desired every single day.”
“I really,
really
like that.”
“Number three — we always find time to talk to each other, no matter how crazy our schedules are.”
I smiled and tipped our foreheads together, and he said, “We also find time to play, no matter how busy we are.”
“Is that the code word we’ll use around our kids? ‘Mommy and Daddy need play time tonight?’”
“Yes.” He grinned. “Totally.”
“Can I add one?”
“Of course.”
“I tell my husband every single day how much I love him.” I laid my hand on his chest. “And how much I want him.”
I trailed my fingers down to his stomach, tracing the hard ridges under his soft T-shirt. He buried his hands deeper in my hair and guided my mouth toward his. His lips seared mine, sparking heat in the far corners of my body, and I melted into him. No way could we ever be boring. Not when Josh made me feel
this
every time he touched me.
“How do you do it?” I murmured against his lips.
“How do I do what?”
“Give me
all
the feelings.”
I felt his smile as his mouth brushed mine. “That’s one secret I can’t reveal.”
“Hmm… are you sure?” I kissed his throat, lingering over his quickening pulse.
“Playing dirty, I see.”
He tickled my sides, and I squirmed and succumbed to giggles. Swallowing my laughter with a kiss, he stilled me in his arms, and I basked again in the love he gave me. A lifetime of all the feelings awaited us, and I couldn’t wait to get started.
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Before the Ice Series came the Edge Series. Discover how Emily and Sergei’s love story began in this excerpt from
Life on the Edge
.
****
June, 2000
BAM!
M
Y ELBOW WHACKED
C
HRIS’S
forehead for the fourth time during practice. He grunted and caught me before I hit the ice. Though I’d skated over half of my nineteen years, I’d never had so many collisions. Of course, until a year ago, I’d never skated with a partner.
I cringed and touched Chris’s sweaty brow. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He raked his hand through his thick dark hair. “A little head trauma never hurt anyone.”
I laughed wearily and arched my neck, stretching the sore muscles. The cold air wasn’t helping to loosen them. Looking up, my eyes honed in on the red, white, and blue banner above the rink:
Emily Butler and Christopher Grayden—2000 National Silver Medalists
Only four months had passed since Chris and I placed second at our first national championship, but it seemed like a lifetime. The triple twist, the high-flying element we needed to learn before next season, continued to elude me.
If we don’t master this move, we’ll never compete with the top teams in the world.
I grasped Chris’s hand. “Let’s try it again.”
We took matching determined strokes across the ice, and the burst of wind cooled my face and loosened damp tendrils from my long ponytail. With a quick motion, Chris squeezed my hips and launched me into the air. I wound myself tight and spun but fell into Chris’s waiting arms before finishing three revolutions. A sigh heaved my shoulders.
Sergei glided toward us around the other practicing skaters. Our coach was often mistaken for one of us because of his youth. He nodded and regarded us with his deep blue eyes. “The rotation is getting faster. Focus on what you did right today. I see a lot of improvement.”
I relaxed into a smile. Before I’d started working with Sergei, I’d heard many horror stories about Russian coaches. Sergei demanded discipline and maximum effort, but his energy stayed positive, and he provided constant encouragement.
Chris and I left the ice and sat on the short set of wooden bleachers. My ankles thanked me as I untied my skate laces and gave them space to breathe.
“I guess it’s an improvement I didn’t give you another black eye,” I said.
Chris poked his swollen freckled cheek. “I kinda like my shiner. Makes me look tough.” He grinned, displaying his dimples.
“You’re going to need more than that to make you look tough,” I teased as I walked away.
Inside the locker room, the musty scent of sweat and metal contrasted with the cool freshness of the ice. After stowing my skates in my locker and slipping on a pair of sneakers, I pulled a fitted T-shirt over my leotard and winced as I bumped the fresh bruises on my arms. If people only knew how much pain went into chasing the Olympic dream…
I needed to talk to Sergei before his next lesson, and I found him in the rink’s upstairs lounge, which overlooked the ice. He was holding a cup of coffee and talking to a couple of the skating moms. As usual, they sat captivated, totally engrossed in his words, and I couldn’t blame them. When I’d met Sergei, I stammered through our introduction, spellbound by his captivating eyes and gleaming smile. His personable manner had quickly put me at ease, though, and I’d gotten past staring at his good looks. Important, obviously, if I wanted to get any work done on the ice.
As Sergei spoke to the moms, I remembered I had to phone my own mother. She expected a daily call once I’d moved from Boston to Cape Cod a year ago. I lingered near the water cooler and read the announcements stapled to the bulletin board until Sergei finished his conversation and moved toward the stairs.
“Sergei, do you have a minute?”