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“Yes,” a swift answer. “What was your mother like?”
Mila bit down on her lip. “She was a young mother,” Mila said with a lift of her shoulders. “I was unplanned, and she was unprepared. She had a child, but she didn’t seem to want to give up her lifestyle.”
“I imagine being a professional figure skater requires a lot of determination and discipline. What exactly was her lifestyle?”
“She stopped skating when she was pregnant.” She felt a sense of disloyalty but something about Leo had her pushing on regardless. “There were a lot of guys in her life. A revolving door of ‘uncles’ for me to get to know.”
Leonidas was very quiet, very careful not to reveal anything with his expression.
“I think, after her career imploded, she didn’t know what to do with her life. She had no focus. I don’t judge her for that, at all, only, as her daughter, I used to resent the time she’d spend with them instead of me. I wanted that time. Every now and again, she would have a night without a date, and she would tuck me into bed and read to me, and I felt so completely heart-full. I lived for those moments.”
“And on the ice,” he added gently.
She nodded. “Exactly.”
“She didn’t ever go back to skating? Once you were born?”
“No.” Mila’s smile hid a mammoth amount of pain. “It’s a very competitive sport. She lost her place on the squad, and never earned it back. She said that having me made her out of condition.”
He was silent, but she knew it was a silence that spoke of understanding and, even worse, sympathy.
“It wasn’t your fault, little thief.”
The nickname triggered something inside her, something a lot like relief, because it was a reminder of what they’d shared. It was an anchor to a relationship that existed in a bubble completely separate to this, to other people, and to the real lives that were waiting for them, a nickname that pushed away the guilt she’d carried for so long.
