“But you should eat something.” He motioned to the cafe. “We still have time before you have to work.”
“Nah, I’m good. Go! Have fun!”
“But…” Sam opened and closed his mouth. “Okay, cool.”
Alice grinned. “Yay! This place has delish breakfast sandwiches. I’ll wait out here. Too hot inside now that I’m geared up.”
Sam nodded and asked me, “You sure you don’t want anything?”
“Yep. Not hungry. I’ll head back and check on Bree. Have fun today!” I held out my fist for a bro-y bump. Sam was on vacation. He should definitely go snowboarding with a gorgeous girl. I couldn’t be selfish.
Sam bumped my fist and disappeared inside the cafe. The door was barely closed when Alice asked, “So what’s his deal? Girlfriend? Boyfriend?”
“Neither.”
“He’s into girls?”
“Uh-huh.” I stepped back, but Alice followed.
“What’s his type?”
“Um, nothing specific. You’re gorgeous, so I’m sure you’re everyone’s type.”
She beamed and lightly slapped my arm. “Stop.” Her smile vanished, her expression coy. “But don’t.”
I had to laugh. “Sense of humor is a big factor. So yeah, you’re good.”
Alice smiled. “Cool, thanks. He’s a cutie. I could use a holiday fling.”
“So could he.” It was true. Mandy dumped him months ago, and Sam was too sweet and funny and generous and hot to be single for too long. I backed up again. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“Thanks, Etienne. Happy skating? I’m not sure if ‘break a leg’ is appropriate.” She frowned. “Is the Bree you mentioned your partner? Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s good.” I backed into an older woman and quickly apologized. Turning to Alice, I waved. “Not a problem. Thanks for asking. Have fun!”
I practically ran up to the Pinnacle. After texting Tim, who told me Bree was napping, I changed and hit the hotel gym. It was off-limits to most staff, but I had special access as a “visiting artist.”
Pumping up the volume on my workout mix, I raced my best time on the treadmill before crunching and planking and squatting and lunging. Trying to think of anything but Sam tumbling into a snowbank with Alice like a scene out of a rom-com.
Bree texted that she felt better and would meet me at the arena to warm up and run through the group numbers with the cast, so I headed there still sweaty and jittery from another coffee. I’d eat after the matinee show.
In the backstage area, I’d just laced my skates when I checked my phone and saw the wall of texts from Tim. My heart skipped glancing though his worried messages, and Bree walked in, putting on a smile.
“Morning!” she said with a fake cheeriness that could not mask that her skin was practically gray under the makeup she normally wouldn’t have applied until closer to showtime.
“No,” I said. “Forget it. I’m taking you back to your cabin.”
One of the skaters in an armchair looked up from her phone and said, “Oh, shit! What happened?”
As Bree lied about nothing being wrong, I quickly tapped out a reply to Tim saying I was on it. Bree stiffly bent her knees, keeping her head upright as she sat on the edge of a chair. This was clearly one of the days when bending over made her horribly dizzy. She’d probably puked multiple times.
“No,” I said again, coming over to sit beside her.
Bree’s mouth tightened. “I’m. Fine,” she gritted out.
Theo Sullivan walked in eating a banana. Mouth full, his eyes widened, and he mumbled, “Whoa! What happened?”
Bree’s eyes filled with tears she blinked away, refusing to let them fall. I rubbed her back gently. “It’s not your fault. You can’t go on today.”
“I have to. We have a job to do.”
The director, Matthieu, walked in right on cue, other skaters trickling in behind him. The chatter ceased, everyone’s attention zeroing in on Bree. Matthieu, a man in his fifties with a shaved head who wore black turtlenecks and red-framed glasses, stopped short.
He exhaled sharply. “Injury?”
As Bree said no, I said, “Yes. She had a concussion months ago. Having a bad day.” We should have disclosed that she still had symptoms before taking the job. We knew this. But we’d hoped it would all turn out fine.
“Sacrament!” Matthieu exclaimed, launching into a tirade in French about how this would mess up the timing of the show and the group numbers. Bree looked to me for translation, but I just murmured to her that it would be okay, my arm tight around her shoulders.
I understood Matthieu’s frustration, but I wouldn’t let him make Bree feel bad. Before I could say anything, Theo came to stand at Bree’s other side, interrupting Matthieu’s rant, which was building steam.
“I have an idea!” Theo said brightly.
Stunned silent, Matthieu gaped at him. The rest of the skaters did too. Matthieu wasn’t the sort of guy people typically interrupted.
But Theo only smiled and said, “I’m dying to try out a new exhibition program I’ve been playing around with. I’d love to test it with an audience. I’d especially like to get your opinion on it. I didn’t want to bother you. I know you have so much on your plate. Everyone’s always asking you for help.”