I hold her gaze, searching for any sign that she’s deflecting, that this is just another version of stepping around something until it becomes easier.
It’s not, I know that.
“I meant what I said,” I add after a second, because I really can’t control it, and we really should have this conversation as soon as possible. My voice is quiet but steadier than it’s been all day. “About the job.”
Isabella’s expression doesn’t change.
Not out of dismissal, simply because she’s listening.
“I know,” she replies matter-of-factly.
“I’m still going,” I continue, because this matters. There is no version of me where I’m walking this back just to make things easier for us. Even if we do decide to be together after this, I still need to think about my career and my athlete’s success, no matter what. “I’m not… passing that up.”
“I wouldn’t want you to, Ceci,” she replies immediately.
It’s a clean admission, and there’s not a single trace of hesitation in her voice. My chest finally,finallyloosens, and it’s more relieving than I ever expected it to be. It feels almost dangerous, because of how much I needed to hear that without realizing it.
“Honestly, babe,” she adds, taking a step in my direction. Her eyes are shining now, and the difference between the woman she is right now and what I just witnessed at the rink in front of her parents is wild. “Anyone who is willing to move toBumfuck,Wyoming to be closer to me?—”
“It’s a great program!” I argue, and she laughs, tilting herhead back and closing her eyes. Her body is chasing mine, one step at a time. “And Rodrigo is coming with me until the Olympics.”
“That’s incredible,” she says, a full grin on her face.
“I’m not walking away from this,” I add, and now there’s no hesitation at all, no second-guessing, no softening of the statement to make it easier to accept. I’m hoping my expression can tell her how serious I am. Even if she’s right—no one would move to Wyoming if they weren’t serious about things.
“Good.” Her gaze sharpens.
I let out a breath that almost turns into a laugh again, but it doesn’t quite make it there, because the moment feels too steady, too grounded and serious and life-altering to break like that.
“So what are we doing?” I ask.
A real, honest question.
She steps closer, and I can feel her breath now, the space between us narrowing infinitesimally, totally familiar and completely new at the same time.
“This,” she says simply.
And then she kisses me. Slowly and intentionally.
Like she’s making a decision and letting me feel it at the same time.
My hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, and she lets me, leaning into it easily.
The kiss softens almost immediately after that, losing the sharp edges and the urgency of everything that came before tonight. There’s no desperation to catch up after two weeks apart or drown out the noise from outside this room. Just hermouth moving against mine, familiar already in a way that feels terrifying.
We’re still standing in the middle of the room, close enough that her hands are resting loosely at my waist and I can feel the warmth of her body through the thin fabric of my shirt.
I let out a slow breath and rest my forehead briefly against hers, trying to calm the strange, overwhelming fullness sitting in my chest.
“Your family is genuinely insane,” I murmur.
Isabella huffs out a laugh against my mouth.
“Yeah,” she replies softly. “That’s been my professional opinion for several years.”
I laugh too, quieter this time, and the sound settles between us in gentle, soothing waves.
For a long moment, we just stay there, tangled together in the center of the room while the hotel buzzes around us beyond the walls.
