Page 112 of Put a Rink on It

“I told you last night it’s not.”

“Your performance in today’s game says otherwise.”

“If you want to take on the blame, I’ll give it to you. But you weren’t even there.” I realize my mistake the second the statement leaves my mouth. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I quickly spit out. “It’s not your fault, Marina. It’s a lot of things. I don’t want to fight.”

“Nice bruise, by the way.”

“Yeah, thanks. A souvenir from my first ever instigated fight. Probably my only fight.” I catch sight of Schurbatski’s car and start mine up.

“I’m gonna stay up here for a few more days.”

My heart rate ratchets up, and I wish I were still parked. “Why?”

“We’re gonna go dress shopping for bridesmaids’ dresses. Walsh and Tate are taking the girls to an overnight at an indoor water park, and I thought I’d tag along. A few other things.”

The thought of being apart for even a few days doesn’t sit right with me. It feels like the tether holding us together is stretching. How far until it breaks completely?

“Okay.”

“Huh. I thought you’d fight it more.”

“Told you I don’t want to fight with you. Also, when am I that guy who doesn’t give you the space you need?” The words taste bitter in my mouth. While it’s true, if ever there was a time I needed to be the guy who won’t give her space, now is it.

“Never, Nero. It’s such a huge part of why what we have endures.” She pauses, though I can’t be certain she’s done.

I navigate to my apartment, pulling into the lot, into my spot, ignoring the emptiness of hers. Schurbatski idles behind me.

“Thanks for calling. Schurbatski is dragging me shopping for a present for his mom.”

“That’s…kinda hilarious. But you’re a great gift giver.”

“That’s what he said, why I needed to come especially.” The words “I miss you” sit at the tip of my tongue. Fuck it. “I miss you, Marina.”

“Same, Nero. I-we should talk when I get home, k? But until then, have fun shopping. I’ll text you.” The line goes dead before I can reply.

When has “we should talk” ever led to anything good?

We start at Nordstrom in the women’s department. Instead of shopping, Schurbatski levels a narrowed gaze at me. “Want to talk about the game?”

“Nope.”

“Let me rephrase. What’s going on with you and Marina?”

My eyes lift from a sweater Marina would look hot in. His arms cross against his broad chest, his mouth set in a firm line, his grumpiness on full display.

“Nothing’s going on. We’re fine.” Lies. All lies.

I’m losing her.

Which was always the plan, so why it’s hitting so hard now is the world’s greatest conundrum.

“Did you have a fight?”

“No.”

“Did she call off the wedding?”

“No.” Just the relationship after it. Possibly the friendship.