Page 94 of Racing Hearts

I duck to pick up my water bottle, take a swig, and lean against the rack. “You were right before, you know. About my mom and Rob.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I refused to let myself see it because she was finally, finally happy with her life and career. As well as I know her and as many times as I’ve seen her make the same mistakes over and over, I didn’t think she would be careless enough to risk that for, what, a few months of happiness with a guy, only to have it all come crashing down when they break up.”

Adrian tilts his head. “Are they having problems?”

I swat at the air. “Not that I know of. But they will. Inevitably.”

“Well,” he says, “you don’t know that until you know that.”

“No. With her, I know. She’s been in about a dozen serious relationships since my dad. And those are only the ones I know about. This thing is doomed from the start.”

Adrian rises slowly from his seat and moves toward the rack of dumbbells so that his face is angled away from me. “Rob is a new person, though. Why can’t this time be different?”

“Probably not, though.”

“But it could be,” he presses.

“I mean, sure, in theory it could be. But I don’t see the point of taking the risk.”

“I think that if you’ve taught me one thing this summer, it’s that there is a point in taking risks,” Adrian says quietly. “In taking chances. In not quitting before it’s over.”

He traces a finger across one of the plates and a creeping, tingling sensation runs up my neck, a heightened awareness that something has shifted. “We’re not talking about my mom anymore, are we?”

Adrian turns to me, smooths a hand across his hairline. “Kath.”

My heart rate accelerates. “First name? Must be serious.”

His fingers curl around a dumbbell like he’s holding on. “I want to say something and I don’t want you to say anything back, okay? Just hear me out and, maybe, take some time to think.”

“Okay?”

“I know we said—you said and I agreed—that you want us to have a clear end date. And I know you have goals, really important goals. I don’t want to get in the way of those. But I also want to say that…I think we could make this work. Berkeley isn’t that far from the training center. I can fly down to you once a month and I’ll see you when you’re here after races. We can video call and text. It’s not ideal, I know, but…but I think it’s worth trying. I think we shouldn’t quit before it’s actually over.”

There’s a low ringing in my ears. “You…”

“Please don’t react right away, okay? Take a few days.”

I nod, stomach twisting. A handful of days is all we have.

“You’ll think about it?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

Twenty-Nine

2 Days Until Pan Ams

I’m boarding a plane for Toronto the day after tomorrow, but I still haven’t responded to Adrian’s proposition. He hasn’t pushed me for an answer, but I can feel the expectation, the hope, every time we broach the subject of our individual futures. Meanwhile, every day, I weigh pros and cons. I make list after list. I’ve tried to imagine my life in vivid detail both ways: saying goodbye to him permanently or saying yes and attempting long-distance for who knows how long. Either one sounds untenable.

At this point, all that’s keeping me from a complete meltdown is the promise of spending my second-to-last dinner with Adrian. He offered to take charge, but I thought it would give me some calm to plan things instead.

I’ll head to his apartment to make dinner: salmon with steamed greens and rice. Then, just for fun, I’m going to crush him at a game of Twister. A couple of weeks ago, I found an antique-looking copy while helping Mom organize her hall closet and I’ve been saving it as a surprise.

Getting dressed was a good distraction, too. Over FaceTime, Sofi coaxed me into a pair of jeans, a colorful top that’s fitted around my middle and flowy around my wide shoulders, and some heeled boots.

Now, I’m sitting on my bed, putting finishing touches on my final draft of the evaluation for Carla, which includes a cover letter that I’m editing on my phone.