Life on the Edge (31 page)

His eyes paled as hurt robbed them of their color. He moved closer to me. “You know me,
Em
.”

“Do I?” Tears shook my voice. “I’m starting to wonder how much more you’ve decided I shouldn’t know. Maybe my mother was right about you.”

He winced as if my words had slapped him. “There’s nothing else, I swear. I’ll get
Evgeny
over here and he can tell you everything I just told you.” He made a frantic gesture toward the door.

“No, I don’t
wanna
talk to
Evgeny
,” I choked. “And I don’t
wanna
talk to you either.”

I headed for the door, and Sergei grabbed my wrist. “Don’t leave like this. I need to know you believe me.”

The pain on his face jabbed at my heart, but I jerked my arm away. “I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

I slammed my front door shut and collapsed onto the stairs in the foyer. Salty tears flowed down my cheeks to my lips. The sound of Sergei calling my name across his parking lot rang in my ears, his desperation echoing in my head.

Footsteps creaked on the steps behind me. “
Em
!” Aubrey exclaimed. “What happened?”

I rose to my feet, using the banister for support. When I turned, I saw Chris standing next to Aubrey.

“What are you doing here?” I sniffed and dried my face with my palms.

“We were
gonna
listen to some songs for our show program, remember? I tried calling you a little while ago.”

I vaguely recalled my phone ringing at Sergei’s apartment. “Oh . . . yeah. I can’t do that right now.”

They gaped at me as I took the steps two at a time to the living room. Aubrey stopped me before I rounded the flight of stairs to my bedroom.

“Did you have a fight with Sergei?”

Chris watched me intently, and I could already hear “I told you so” spilling from his mouth. I dropped into my favorite chair, seeking comfort from its soft chenille fabric and wide
pillowy
arms.

“He lied to me about something very important,” I said barely above whisper.

Chris stood with his hands on his hips. “I knew this was going to happen.”

“Could you please not lecture me?” I cried as a new batch of tears watered my eyes. My contact lenses swam loose, making Chris’s agitated face appear fuzzy.

Aubrey sat on the floor in front of me. “What did he lie about?”

I brought my knees up to my chest and rested my chin on them. “When he and Elena were skating together, they were secretly dating. He told me Elena’s father sent her away to keep them apart. The truth was her father sent her away because she was pregnant.”

Chris’s mouth fell open. “He has a kid?”

“Elena gave up the baby.” I shuddered as I realized Sergei had a child somewhere out there. I’d been so focused on his lie I hadn’t thought about the fact he was a father.

“Wow,” Aubrey said. “I never would’ve guessed that’s why he quit skating.”

Chris perched on the edge of the sofa. “Why did he lie about it?”

“He thought I would look down on him, but I could’ve handled the truth.” I paused and sniffled. “It would’ve been a lot to digest, but if he just would’ve been honest with me . . .” I massaged my temples, which throbbed with a sickening ache. “What do you do when someone you trust with all your heart lets you down?”

A sob caught in my throat, and I buried my face against my knees. After a moment, Aubrey’s arm circled my shoulders.

“Trust is a hard thing to get back once you lose it,” she said softly.

I took a few deep breaths and picked up my head. Chris was staring at the carpet and twisting his hands.

“Chris, I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not going to let this affect us.”

“You think it’s going to be that easy?” he asked quietly.

“I didn’t say it will be easy.” I wiped the last teardrops from my chin and focused my hazy eyes on Chris. “But I won’t disappoint you like Sergei disappointed me.”

****

Sergei’s phone calls were frequent and his messages full of distress. In some, he begged me to let him explain. In others, he left long rambles repeating the entire story. The last few, he just asked me to call him, and his voice was so sad, I almost broke down and relented. But I didn’t return any of them, waiting until I saw him at the rink to deliver my own message–“I need time to think, so please give me some space.”

At practice, I retreated inside myself and put pinpoint focus on working my blades over the ice. Smoothly and methodically, I etched deep tracings. Being on the ice gave me a feeling of peace, but as soon as I removed my skates, my heart filled with turmoil.

After a week of evading Sergei outside the rink, I still didn’t feel ready to talk to him. I kept remembering the conversation we’d had when I thought he’d confided in me about Elena. He’d lied to me so easily. How would I ever know when he was being truthful?

Aubrey and I returned home from a late dinner on Main Street, and I spied an object on our doormat. Upon closer inspection, I discovered the object was the
Lyrics
book. A long-stemmed pink rose marked one of the pages, and red swirly lines enclosed a stanza of lyrics in which Sting expressed his sorrow and asked for forgiveness.

I held the rose close to my nose. The sweet smell briefly softened my heart but not long enough to erase the sting of betrayal. If only words could make everything better.

Aubrey read over my shoulder. “I guess Sergei’s trying to break the silence.”

I placed the flower between the pages and started for my car. “I’ll be back.”

During the short trip from my house to Sergei’s apartment, I steeled myself for the pleas I knew I’d hear. I had to stay strong and not give in to emotion. As I climbed the steps to the outdoor walkway, I remembered the last time I’d been there, and I knocked forcefully on the door.

When Sergei saw me, his face brightened. He opened the door wider to let me inside, but my feet didn’t move.

I stuck his peace offering over the threshold. “You can’t fix this with a book.”

My chilly tone stole the apparent hope from his eyes. He slowly took the book from me.

“I know. I just thought it would remind you how good we are together.” His voice contained a heaviness I’d never heard before.

I tugged on the end of my long ponytail. “I told you I need space.”

“Shutting me out isn’t the answer. I made a terrible mistake, but don’t let it ruin what we have.” He stepped outside, and I backed away as far as the narrow walkway would allow. “I love you so much,
Em
.” His words broke with emotion. “Let me make this right.”

His pleading eyes reached out to me. I felt myself being pulled toward him until the deep horn of the Nantucket ferry pierced the night and shook me to my senses. I gripped the paint-chipped rail lining the walkway and watched the boat dock in the harbor across the street.

“Talking isn’t going to help right now because I’m going to doubt everything you say.”

“Then let’s not talk.” He moved behind me, the warmth of his body heating mine. His hands slipped around my waist while his lips brushed the back of my neck.

My head spun as I yielded to his touch. I wanted to believe in him, wanted to believe he would never betray my trust again. But his kisses couldn’t ease my fears.

“Please stop.” I untangled myself from him and hastened toward the stairs. “I need time to think.”

***

My first step in distancing myself from Sergei was changing my seat on our flight to Dallas. I opted for a dreaded middle seat near the back of the plane over sitting next to him for hours.

On the long journey, I tried to concentrate on the paperback I’d picked up at the airport, but I couldn’t tear my mind from my troubles. The last few times I’d spoken to my dad, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him Sergei had lied about his past. I was already upset enough without adding Dad’s disappointment to the situation. And Mom would never let me hear the end of it. I had to figure out if or when I could trust Sergei again before I disclosed anything to my parents.

Our flight landed in mid-afternoon. When we’d planned the trip, we’d wanted to arrive early to sightsee and have dinner alone together at a restaurant–something we couldn’t do on the Cape. Now, I wanted to be as far away from Sergei as possible.

I walked to the mall connected to our hotel and wandered aimlessly in and out of the shops. When my feet grew tired, I found a bench next to the mall’s ice rink. On the ice, a group of tiny girls and boys surrounded their coach with eager smiles. They practiced the most basic spin, some doing the move with precision, others wobbling and falling on their bottoms. None of them stopped smiling, though.

I observed the kids with a touch of envy. It was hard for me to remember a time when the sport was that simple. No political judging, no thousand dollar costumes scrutinized down to the smallest sequin, no heavy expectations. As much as I loved competing, there were days when I longed to skate free of restrictions.

Fellow coaches filed in and filled the tables around me. When Sergei entered, I dropped my head and started reading through the class materials. He bypassed several empty seats and slid into the one next to me.

“Good morning.” He delivered it like his typical daily greeting at the rink.

I picked up my purse to switch seats but realized I was stuck. It wouldn’t look good if I moved to get away from my coach. I set my bag down in defeat.

The instructor welcomed everyone and launched into an introductory speech. My attention drifted to and from the woman at the podium. I didn’t want to admit how distracted I was by the alluring scent of Sergei’s cologne. Being this close to him was giving me a tingly feeling I wished I could deny.

We were asked to silently read the Code of Ethics enclosed in our binders, so I quickly pulled out the sheet of paper, eager to busy my brain. As I read through the eight rules, I highlighted number four and slid the paper in front of Sergei.

My chest tightened, and I shifted in my chair. I slipped the sheet into my binder and listened to the instructor recap the professional standards.

The moment class ended, I jumped up. I needed to take a walk before the next session. Sergei started to say something but was interrupted by a young woman who approached our table.

“Sergei! I didn’t see you when I came in.”

“Leah, this is Emily.” Sergei motioned to me.

She took my hand, and I sized her up. Fit and petite with long raven hair and dark eyes, she exuded confidence.

“Emily, I’m a big fan. I knew Sergei when he was starting out in Chicago, and he only dreamed of finding talented students like you.”

A wave of déjà vu hit me. Didn’t I have a similar conversation with
Evgeny
? And that didn’t end so well.

“Leah coaches in Chicago,” Sergei explained.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “I have to run out for a minute, if you’ll excuse me.”

As I left, I heard Leah say, “We need to catch up later.” I’d gotten a few feet down the hall when Sergei jogged up beside me.