by C. J. Lake
The only thing was…this didn’t feel much like a career in skiing. Obviously she knew she’d have to put her time in as Luc’s personal assistant before something else clicked, but still: sometimes she couldn’t help wondering what the hell she was thinking with this move. Like now, as Luc was instructing her to pick up new silk boxers for him, and even telling her why they needed to be silk. TMI much?
“After you pick up the boxers,” he went on, “I need you to book a flight for Cari next week, too,” he said, referring to the ex-wife whom he was still sleeping with, “and make a dinner reservation at La Bouche for me and Trent Waymouth. Use Waymouth’s name,” Luc said, a touch of humility actually slipping out, “we’ll get a better table that way.”
“Oh my God,” Sky blurted, eyes wide, as she gushed, “Trent Waymouth? Sorry, I just…he was one of my idols when I was in high school.” By now, Waymouth was in his mid-thirties; as an Extreme Skiing superstar, he might be past his prime, but competitively, he was still going strong.
Luc offered her a somewhat condescending smile. “How quaint. Now, did you pick up my new ipad?”
“Yes, it’s all set up and connected to the network,” Sky said.
“Good. You’re doing a good job, Sky,” Luc threw in, surprising her with a compliment. “I’ll be honest. I’ve been known to burn through PAs,” he stated unapologetically. “They think this position will be all about easy travel arrangements, and sitting by the fire in the ski lodge. As you can see, my life is a non-stop ride and you need to be right there in the trenches with me.”
“Yes, I see,” Sky agreed, hiding any irritation she found in Luc’s haughty manner (to say nothing of his mixed metaphors). “Am I coming with you to Vale?”
“Of course. It’s only a day trip,” Luc reminded her. “Why?”
“I just would love to meet Trent Waymouth, that’s all. My dad got me a signed photo of him once, but I never actually met him.”
“He’s short in person,” Luc was quick to inform her. After a long pause, Luc added, “I like you, Sky.” She thought she noticed something change in his tone, it was slight, but—wait, was she imagining this? Suddenly his gaze was different, too. Luc was usually brusque and cursory—not just with Sky, but with everyone—and now as they sat in his condo living room, he was suddenly giving her a warm smile.
Instead of feeling intrigued by his attitude shift, Sky felt uncomfortable, hoping he wasn’t going to turn out to be a dirty old man. Ugh, that would be the worst!
“Why don’t you come a little closer?” he said. His gentle tone sounded almost predatory. Annoyed and disappointed, Sky wanted to grimace openly and say, “For real? You’re hitting on me? Just because you’re my boss? Do you really want to be a stereotype like that?”
Instead, she concealed her resentment and said, “I, uh…Luc, I have a boyfriend.”
Hey, she might get lucky. Maybe he would save face and deny that he’d had any lecherous intentions. Then they could just forget this and she could get back to her job.
He gave a weird smile. It might have been his “coy look,” but it looked a bit demented to her. Then again, she wasn’t used to old men putting the moves on her. “Boyfriend, huh?” he said and began ostentatiously craning his neck around. “Well, I don’t see him here...”
Sky paused, not sure how to play this. She wasn’t ready to throw in the towel on this job—not at all. Did she enjoy it? Not particularly. But she hadn’t taken the position for the love of personal assistant work (who did?). It was always meant to be a meaningful transition. She took it to make connections and to find another place in the competitive skiing world. No, she wasn’t ready to quit, because that would be like accepting defeat again.
“I love my boyfriend,” Sky stated, simply but firmly.
“Ah,” Luc said, then rudely dismissed the notion with a flippant wave of his hand. “What does love have to do with sex?” Eww. “You’re nauseatingly naïve, aren’t you?” As fury bubbled inside her, Sky managed to keep a poker face. Then Luc surprised her by laughing the whole thing off. Granted, his chuckle sounded world-weary and hollow, rather than genuinely amused. “Well, that’s fine. I’ve never had to coerce a woman into bed and I’m not going to start now. So, did you call the coordinator of Ski-Swell to confirm my judging time slot?” he continued.
At first Sky just blinked. Luc’s usual demeanor was back, as though his failed come-on had never happened. That was how little it had meant to him—and, by default, how little it would have meant if Sky had actually gone along and slept with him.
When Luc took a call from his business manager, Sky waited. She found her gaze drifting toward the enormous window that was like a picture frame—capturing the image of pure beauty, of snowflakes dancing outside, each one like a clean burst of life.
Chapter 35
Jamie had just reached level four in Death Call Asylum when there was a knock at Tragan’s door. “That must be Pellican,” Matt said, rising to get the door because Tray was in the kitchen with Andy.
“All right, shut that off,” Pellican announced as soon as he came in. “We’re all going out.”
“Why, what’s up?” Matt said, but Jamie was already shaking his head.
“No, thanks, Pellican. I just made it to the Hellfire Room, so clearly I can’t leave.”
“Bardo, the game will save your progress,” Pellican replied, stating the obvious.
“You miss the point, bro,” Jamie said, returning his attention to the screen. “It’s a momentum thing.” Also, Death Call Asylum was taking his mind off of Sky. Well, not really, but it was sure better than going to a bar, seeing a bunch of girls there and knowing that none of them was Sky.
As it was, Jamie was in a rotten, pissed-off mood because he and Sky hadn’t really talked in a couple of days. They’d had a ten-second “just called to say goodnight” conversation one night, and then intermittent texting after that. He could just feel it—fuck, he’d been through this before—things were falling apart. So Goddamn frustrating! Wasn’t this supposed to be his year? Wasn’t he supposed to be done with high-maintenance girls and “complicated” relationships?
“Bardo?” Pellican said, interrupting his thoughts. “Why are you sitting on your ass?”
“Where else would I sit?”
“You know what I mean,” Pellican said, rolling his eyes. “Get up, we’re going.” At this point, Tragan had wandered back into the living room and Matt was putting on his jacket. Great, Jamie thought sourly. So Pellican was winning this one. “But we should move fast,” Pellican told everyone, holding up his phone. “I just checked and it’s okay outside now, but there’s gonna be some rain coming down on the ground.”
“Hey, bro—are you telling us the weather or explaining how gravity works?”
Apparently Pellican didn’t appreciate Jamie’s sarcasm. “What the hell!”
“Bardo’s just in a mood,” Tray explained, clapping Pellican on the shoulder.
“I’m not in a mood,” Jamie grumbled moodily.
“Well check your PMS at the door, Bardo, because I want to meet a chick tonight.”
Reluctantly, Jamie dropped the PlayStation remote and rose from the couch. “Fine. Anywhere except—”
“Let’s go to Billiard Grill,” Pellican said.
Damn. “No,” Jamie said, shaking his head. “Somewhere else.”
“Why?” Matt asked curiously.
“Because that girl, Lily, texted me today and mentioned she’d be there. She wants me to stop by and say hi.”
“So?” Tray asked, confused.
Jamie shrugged. “So now if I show up, she might misinterpret and think I came for her.”
Instantly, Pellican rejected that premise. “Come on, man. Are we going to avoid this place forever because you dated one of the waitresses a year ago?” he emphasized.
“We could always just stay here,” Jamie threw out there again.
“No, I want to pick up a girl,” Pellican declared. “How am I gonna
pick up a girl in Tray’s apartment?”
“Let’s just say I think your odds are the same either way.”
“Oh, shut up, Bardo.”
Tray interjected then. “Seriously, though, Bardo…Pellican kind of has a point about Lily.”
“All right,” Jamie agreed. “I just didn’t want to lead her on, that’s all.”
“Oh, please,” Pellican whined, seeming almost personally offended. “I think she’ll live, Jesus!”
“Pellican, take it easy,” Matt said calmly.
“Well, I’m sorry, but this is just so ironic! Seeing as how I actually do have a girl that’s obsessed with me.”
“Who?” Matt asked.
“Um, hello? Did you forget? That girl Megan, from Grendel’s,” Pellican reminded them.
“I thought you hadn’t heard from her lately,” Tragan mentioned off-handedly.
Impatiently, Jamie barked, “C’mon, let’s just go already!”
Everyone halted and looked over at him, stunned. Unapologetically, Jamie just shrugged. Fine, so maybe he was in a mood.
Chapter 36
They were on their second round of beers and Matt and Tragan were complaining about the Red Sox relief pitcher when Pellican returned to the table. He’d been loitering near the bar, scoping the crowd for the girls he found attractive. Jamie was slumped in the booth, trying not to be such an anti-social dick, but…damn, he was getting depressed. Surely the beers weren’t helping, yet something compelled him to drain his glass anyway, as his friends kept talking.
Then he heard Tray say, “So, Bardo, what are your thoughts?”
Glumly, Jamie sighed and answered, “Why do all girls leave me?”
“Um…” Tray began uncertainly.
“He meant what are your thoughts about the Sox trading Brian Lantern,” Pellican said.
“Oh.”
“You upset about Sky?” Tray asked.
“Of course I’m upset about Sky,” Jamie grumbled.
Pellican grabbed a chair from another table and dragged it by their booth. Sitting down, he said, “Look, I’m not trying to be insensitive, bro. But she’s only been gone a few weeks. You’ve gone way longer than that without a girlfriend.” Jamie glared at him as he continued, “Why are you such a fucking mess over this?”
Rather than answering right away, Jamie mulled the question over in his mind. Sure he could list all of Sky’s attributes, share everything that made her special, and then he could make his friends really uncomfortable with sappy talk about how much he loved her. Instead, he replied simply: “That’s the point. It’s like I technically do have a girlfriend…but it’s starting not to feel that way. I’ve been down this road before. I see the writing on the wall.” He hadn’t thought of his ex-girlfriend in years, but now he kept remembering her. Or more like recalling the end of their relationship. He thought he’d learned from that experience, and yet, here was again. Losing Sky slowly. And he was supposed to just watch it happen?
Well, he wouldn’t.
Abruptly, Jamie pushed back from the table.
“Where are you going?” Tray said.
“Bathroom,” Jamie lied and walked away. He stopped walking when he got to the alcove by the bathrooms and then took out his phone.
It rang four times. Sky wasn’t picking up. Nothing new there; she was almost impossible to reach these days. Hearing the thrumming ring after ring only reaffirmed Jamie’s decision.
When he first heard her voicemail, he was about to hang up. This wasn’t the sort of thing you could blurt out in a message. Then something compelled Jamie to stay on the line and just get this over with (that “something” was at least partly the beers).
“Sky…it’s me,” Jamie said after the beep. “I…this is really hard to say, because…” He sucked in a breath. Keep your shit together. “Look, I love you. But this isn’t working for me.” His eyes started to burn. “We can’t drag this out,” he went on, swallowing down a hard lump in his throat. “It’s obvious we’re going to have to break up at some point. I mean, we live in different countries. You are the best girl, the most awesome, beautiful girl in the world. You deserve to be really happy and I hope that you are, but I…” He lifted his glasses and pressed his thumb into the corner of his eye. “I love you,” he said again, “but you know I’m right.”
Then he hung up. Holy shit. He just hung up! God, I’m an asshole. Still, he didn’t call back. He supposed he couldn’t bear to say the word “good-bye.” How messed-up was that? He’d just broken up with Sky and he couldn’t stomach the simple polite word “good-bye”?
Either way, when Jamie shoved his phone back in his pocket, he felt sort of liberated—and also sad as hell.
~
“Oh my God, I can’t believe this,” Sky said, sniffling into the phone.
“What?” her brother, Cody, asked, concerned. “Are you okay?”
She skipped that question, because she definitely was not okay. “I can’t believe you called when I was just so upset. Twin connection?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
“I just thought I should call you, okay? So what the hell is wrong?” Cody asked brusquely. Her brother had never been all warm and fuzzy, but Sky knew he cared.
“Jamie broke up with me,” she told him, her voice cracking as she eked out the words. Still sniffling, she explained how she had gotten the message after a two-hour Q&A, in which Luc was a guest panelist, and how eager she was to check her voicemail because she’d seen a missed call from Jamie. Then, the first chance she’d had to check it…well, she’d expected a sweet, even funny message from her boyfriend, and got a kick in the stomach instead.
“Sky, I’m sorry,” Cody said, his deep voice doing its best to sound sympathetic rather than gruff. “But it was just a matter of time, right?”
“Why do you say that?” Sky asked a bit sharply. “We were happy together!”
“Yeah, but you’re not together,” Cody stated bluntly. “Be realistic. You moved to friggin’ Canada.”
“I had to!” she insisted, though she didn’t believe it quite as much as she had when she’d boarded the plane over a month ago.
“I know,” Cody assured her. “That’s why you can’t get all twisted up over some guy you just met.”
That irked her, but she didn’t want to snap at Cody. He was only trying to help, and he didn’t exactly call everyday. “We hardly ‘just met,’” Sky insisted. True, maybe she and Jamie hadn’t known each other for years, but their connection, their love…it was real. Since Cody didn’t go in for all that lovey-dovey stuff, there was no point telling him that.
“This is an opportunity for you, right? Working for one of the big names in competitive skiing? Isn’t this what you want?”
“I guess…” Sky mumbled.
“So then, that’s that. You can’t give up everything for this dude.”
“I know, but…I love him.”
“Sky, come on, don’t be such a chick about this,” Cody said. “This is how life is. Relationships come and go; you’ve just got to let it burn out.”
“Mm-hmm,” she managed, though that sentiment didn’t feel right. Actually, everything about her twin brother’s “let it burn” philosophy felt wrong to her.
“Skiing is everything to you. This is your dream, right?” Cody added, as if double-checking, not wanting to give her bad advice.
With a deprecating half-grin, Sky responded, “No. Actually, this was never my dream. My dream was to ski. To somehow, someday, become a star. Like Trent Waymouth. Or…I don’t know. But my dream was never to be on the outside looking in,” she admitted.
And that was the heart of it, she realized. Why nothing felt the way it should.
And now she’d lost Jamie, too.
“Don’t give up on this yet,” Cody said. “Sky, after that accident, you were seriously depressed. Don’t you remember? You kept saying your ski life was gone.” Actually, she’d only said that after months of physical therapy,
which had confirmed that “healed” didn’t mean “future ski star,” and never would.
Ultimately, Cody was right. This gig could lead to something if Sky let it. It was a stepping stone or a gateway or maybe a fork in the road. Well, whichever trite metaphor she clung to, the point was: it would take her somewhere.
It had to, for all the pain it was causing.
Chapter 37
A loud knock at Jamie’s door halted his pencil mid-sketch. Enh, it didn’t matter; after countless tries, he still couldn’t get Sky’s face right. “Coming,” he said, setting the sketchpad on the bookcase and went to open the door for Pellican. “Hey, man. The pizza will be here soon. We’re already up by seven,” he added, jerking his head toward the TV screen.
“I know, I checked the score on my phone,” Pellican said. “Listen, forget the game. It’s gonna be a blowout. I’ve got something else to do.” He dug into his coat pocket and retrieved a folded piece of paper. “Check this out!”
Confused, Jamie read the flyer. “Speed dating at O’Mally’s? Is that still a thing?”
“They’re bringing it back,” Pellican replied, obviously excited. “It’s tonight, so let’s go.”
Jamie shoved the flyer back into his friend’s hand. “Come on, bro. I don’t want to do that. Are you being serious?”
“Hell yeah, I’m serious! A guy at work told me he went last week and it was awesome. He guarantees there will be tons of hot women.”
“How can he guarantee that? Are they bussing them in?”
Pellican ignored that and said, “Come on, you’re just sitting around—still moping over Sky—so why not?”
“I’m not moping,” Jamie interrupted, annoyed. “I’m watching the game.”
“Really? Not moping over Sky?” Pellican repeated, raising an eyebrow. Then the guy had the damn nerve to lift the sketchpad off the bookcase and hold it up. It was still opened to Sky’s picture. Smugly, Pellican stated, “Exhibit A.”