“Prim and proper Henry Sakaguchi begging for it,” he teased.
I huffed. “Not prim and proper when I fucked you at the airport.”
Cheeks dimpling, Theo laughed. “Coarse language! And good point.” He eased back, then thrust hard, making me jolt. “How’s that?”
“Yes.”
He’d been so patient preparing me, and the fact that patience wasn’t his strong suit made it all the better. I told him it felt wonderful, which was the truth. It was nothing like that awful first time, and with Theo, I knew it never would be again.
After we came, he flopped on his back beside me and said, “Let’s do that a million more times.” Tensing, he pretended to laugh, looking at the ceiling. “No pressure. It’s not like we’re married. I’m sure you want to fuck a bunch of guys and sow your wild oats and all that stuff.”
I explored that idea for a moment in the silence. Then I asked, “Do my oats seem particularly wild?”
He turned his head to face me, his eyes hopeful. “Um, not especially? Well, you can be surprisingly wild—which is so hot—but I don’t want to make assumptions or put my expectations on you. But really, if I had to say yes or no, I’d say no.”
“Correct.”
He bit his lip endearingly. “We’re together, right? Exclusive?”
“Mm.”
“Cool.” His face flushed, and he grinned. “That’s awesome. And I know we’re still young, but I love you, and I love being with you. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t miss partying. I want to be with you and Esmeralda—and do you think we should move in together? I think so. I practically already live with you, and when you know, you know. But I’m probably jumping the gun. It’s not like we’re married.”
Easing closer, I met his lips and said simply, “Not yet.”
Epilogue
Theo
Seven Years Later
“The camera crew’s here!”
Henry was across the ice, but I knew he was sighing in resignation at my announcement. He said something to our student, Grace, and she skated off to try her triple Axel again.
Henry watched her as he stroked over to me. The Axel was under-rotated, but she was off the harness now and getting closer. She looked to Henry eagerly, and he gave her an approving nod and a rolling hand motion to keep drilling it. Grace beamed.
Meanwhile, Jialiang gained speed and launched into his quad combo, but his shoulders were way too open on the landing of the Lutz, and he was off balance trying to squeak out the toe on the end. He barely managed a single.
I called, “Who’s in charge? Are you just along for the ride? Don’t let the jump control you.”
Henry added, “Shoulders,” as he passed Jialiang and joined me.
We changed into sneakers, both of us wearing our typical black practice pants and jackets. Henry slipped his gloves into his pockets, giving the ice a last longing glance.
Laughing, I tugged his hand. “Come on. I promise there will still be hours of training left when we finish the interview.”
He held my hand for a few moments as we made our way around the rink, squeezing my fingers before letting go. Henry didn’t really do PDA, though I didn’t mind. When we were alone? Hoo boy, did he make up for it.
I leaned in to whisper, “And I promise I’ll reward you tonight for agreeing to film this fluff piece.”
He didn’t look at me, but a little smile tugged on his lips as we passed the snack bar. This arena complex was new, but still an ugly concrete monster like the Ice Chalet. Albeit not painted hideous colors.
Our first coaching jobs had been assisting Manon and Bill, and we still traveled across Toronto once a month to do guest clinics with them, and they returned the favor coming out here west of the city.
The crew was setting up in a small glass-walled conference room overlooking the main ice rink. There were three rinks in the complex, offering a lot of ice time for hockey, skating, and ringette. We often had to navigate the ice with other coaches and their skaters, and as we built our reputation, it was a perfect setup.
We sat side by side in chairs while they unpacked the big lights. Janice Harvey, still going strong, previewed the questions she wanted to ask. Of course she wanted to highlight our relationship—this was a fluff piece to air during the upcoming US Nationals, and the network always wanted personal hooks.
As much as I knew Henry didn’t like these questions, he only objected to one. “I don’t want to talk about my grandfather.”
Mr. Sakaguchi had died recently at a truly freaking amazing hundred years old. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still hadn’t been easy. Honestly, I didn’t want to talk about it either. Henry’s family had welcomed me so wholeheartedly.
I missed those afternoons with Ojiichan while he and Henry did their crosswords and I played whatever game I was obsessed with at the moment on my laptop and tried not to shout too much.