“You weren’t invited,” Mark told him.
He gaped. “I am literally standing right here.”
Mark waved that aside, then focused on me. “The technical side can be solved. Skating problems usually can.”
“What about everything else?” I asked.
Mark glanced toward Helen, and the look they exchanged lasted barely a second.
Helen pocketed her phone. “If you’re asking whether the sport is ready for certain questions, the answer is probably no.”
That wasn’t particularly surprising.
She continued before anyone could respond. “The better question is whether somebody is willing to ask them anyway.”
Mark looked at me as though he was evaluating an idea, testing its weight.
Finally he smiled. “Give me a challenge—giveanycoach a challenge—and immediately we start wondering how to beat it.” He rubbed his chin. “It would certainly make things interesting.”
Dean closed his eyes. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of.”
Mark appeared delighted. “Good.”
Listening to them argue about something that hadn’t even happened yet, I realized I was already looking forward to finding out.
Dean
By the timewe left the restaurant, Milan had settled into evening.
The streets were still busy, cafés spilling light onto the pavement, people lingering over wine and conversation.
After the last two weeks, a quiet dinner with Luka felt luxurious. No teammates, no coaches, no federations—no pizza.
That last one had made a significant impression.
“I know we had dinner with your parents, but I still cannot believe the two of us sat down and ordered food that was not delivered in a cardboard box,” Luka mused. “We had cutlery. Actual plates. I had dessert.”
He slipped his hand into mine as we walked, the movement so natural now that neither of us really thought about it.
“You had two desserts.”
He narrowed his eyes. “That is slander.”
“I watched you eat them, Luka.”
“You cannot prove a thing.”
I stopped walking long enough to kiss him. When I pulled back, Luka looked too pleased with himself.
“I think that means I win.”
I had to laugh. “You’ve never understood how winning works.”
“I literally have two Olympic medals.”
Luka had been smiling all day, not constantly, but enough that I kept noticing.
My parents had noticed it too. They’d spent most of the afternoon alternating between hugging Luka and offering increasingly impractical suggestions about Colorado. Mom had apparently decided within twenty minutes that he wasn’t allowed to live in an apartment on his own. Dad had immediately begun discussing skating facilities.
