Page 73 of Goal Line (Boston Rebels #4)

LUKE it was like they’d never spent a day off the ice.”

If you’d told me a year ago that I’d be sitting here tonight with my mom and mother-in-law, with my baby strapped snugly against my chest while cheering on my wife in her bid for the Olympics, I would never have believed it.

Not only because I never dared to hope that Eva and I would end up together like this, but I also never thought Eva and her mom could repair their relationship, nor did I think I’d ever miss three games without being injured or sick.

Luckily, my coaches and teammates have been nothing but supportive about my absence.

“You’re right,” I say, shaking my head slightly to try to clear away my nerves.

It’s just that so much rests on the next four minutes.

I thought the pressure was high in hockey, but we get seven games to prove we deserve the Cup.

In pairs skating, they get a combined seven minutes over two performances.

“I’m starting to think my daughter-in-law is superhuman,” my mom says.

I couldn’t agree more. Four months ago, she gave birth, ten weeks ago, she started training again, and today, she’s better than ever.

As hard as these last ten weeks have been—with her training and me traveling with the team, and neither of us feeling like we’re spending enough time with Gigi—watching her skate last night proved that it’s all been worth it.

She has never skated with such skill and precision, and she and Christopher are in second place going into tonight’s free skate .

“Do you want me to take her,” our nanny, Allison, asks from my other side, nodding her chin toward Gigi, “so you can focus on Eva’s performance?”

“Thank you, but no. I want to experience this with my daughter.” I run my hand down her back and pat her bum.

She’s wearing the noise-canceling earmuffs I got her for tonight and seems totally content looking up at me with sleepy eyes.

I wish I could borrow some of her tranquility.

I also wish I could turn her around so she can face the ice and see her mama, but her neck’s not quite strong enough for that and she can’t see that far yet anyway.

Hopefully, she’ll be able to watch her in the Olympics two months from now.

The Canadian pair that’s just finished their performance finally skates off toward the kiss-and-cry booth to await their scores. My knee starts bouncing of its own will again as I watch the young skaters collect the flowers and stuffed animals that were thrown on the ice after the performance.

Glancing beyond the Canadian pair, I watch Eva and Christopher standing near the door through which they’ll take the ice.

They’re facing each other and her forehead rests on his chest while his hands run along her upper arms. Her shoulders shake, and when she looks up at him, I can see that she’s laughing.

I can sense their excitement from across the ice.

The misplaced jealousy I felt before has completely disappeared, replaced with pure pleasure and pride—for both of them.

Glancing over my shoulder, I look up at Jenn, who’s sitting with her parents in the row behind us.

She and Christopher are still going strong, and even Eva is surprised that he’s finally settled into a serious relationship.

Sometimes, all it takes is the right person in the right place at the right time.

“You nervous?” I ask her.

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Her eyes are trained on them, and I’m pretty sure she’s let go of any insecurities she had about the nature of their relationship too.

I reach my elbow over the seat and nudge her knee so she’ll look at me. “Hey, they’re going to do great. They’ve been working toward this for nearly a decade.”

Then the crowd erupts with applause as the Canadian pair’s scores flash on the screen, moving them into first place when combined with last night’s short program results.

We’re almost at the end of the competition, and most, if not all, of tonight’s medalists will come from this final group of competitors.

Eva and Christopher are the second to last pair to skate.

They take the ice, skating hand in hand to their starting position in front of the judges.

When their music comes on, I’m completely engrossed, and everything fades away except the two of them.

The tempo is upbeat and the crowd claps along as they come up to one of the more difficult parts of their performance—a triple jump combination.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until the crowd erupts in applause after they land all three flawlessly, and I exhale in relief.

Eva’s broad smile makes it clear she can sense how well they’re skating, and she’s enjoying every second.

Christopher launches her into a triple twist, and she lands gently on one skate and glides backward so lightly, it’s hard to believe she was ten feet above the ice just moments before.

They’re in the home stretch now. The most difficult parts of the performance are behind them, and the scoreboard shows green checks next to each of the required elements.

As they move through the synchronized choreography of the more artistic segment of the performance, they look like they’re having the time of their lives.

Entering the final spin, they both plant a toe pick on the ice to stop at exactly the same moment, hands linked and arms up in victory. I can tell that they know that they’ve done more than enough to qualify for the Olympics.

In the booth a few rows behind where we’re seated, I can hear the television announcers saying what I’m thinking.

“With a performance like that, I’m certain that Steele and Hartmann just earned themselves a spot on the US Olympic Team,” Alyssa Goodman, a former US gold medalist and an announcer for US pairs competitions, says.

The male announcer, whose name I’ve forgotten, adds, “The only thing that remains to be seen is if it’s enough to move them ahead of the Canadians for a possible gold tonight. But either way, they’re definitely Olympic bound come February.”

On the ice, Christopher bends to pick Eva up, his arms around her thighs as he holds her in the air so she can wave to the crowd. As the screen zooms in on their faces, it’s easy to read his lips as he looks up at her: “You did it.”

He sets her down and they move to each side of the ice, taking a bow and waving to the crowd as an unbelievable number of stuffed animals shower down from the stands.

And when they turn toward us and take their final bow, Eva doesn’t head directly toward the kiss-and-cry booth.

Instead, she skates to the boards closest to the stairs near our row and motions me down .

I scoot past my mom and Helene, holding tight to Gigi, before jogging down the stairs with one hand on the rail as the crowd around us stands and cheers.

And when I get down to ice level, I reach forward and wrap one arm around her midsection, lifting her to sit on the boards so she can pull Gigi and me into an embrace.

“You did it, Evie,” I say, smiling into the crook of her neck.

“I hope so. We’ll see.” She pulls back, and her smile is huge. She knows she did it, she just doesn’t want to jinx it.

“There’s no way that performance didn’t earn you a ticket to the Olympics.”

Christopher skates over then, and we shake hands before he helps Eva down and they skate to the opening, put their skate guards on, and take a seat in the kiss-and-cry booth.

“Your first competition in six months, and since having a baby. How did that feel?” the announcer asks before holding the microphone out to Eva. I tilt my head back to watch the interview on the screen, not wanting to miss a second.

“Phenomenal.” Eva takes a deep breath, still panting after the intense performance.

“All her hard work paid off,” Christopher adds.

“What about your hard work?” the interviewer asks him.

“It was nothing compared to what she had to do to come back from a challenging pregnancy and giving birth.” He beams down at her with pride, and then their heads tilt up as the judge’s scores start populating the screen.

As expected, the performance puts them into first place with only one pair left to skate. They move over to the winner’s circle to watch the reigning world champions, a pair from China, take the ice, and I return to my seat .

Six minutes later, as the entire arena awaits the final scores, Eva and Christopher are clutching hands, waiting to find out if it’s a silver or a gold for them tonight.

The second the scores appear, Christopher tackles Eva in a hug that almost carries them out of their seats because, while their competition put on a great performance, they came up short.

My throat tightens as I consider what this moment means to Eva—to put on the performance of a lifetime, when only a couple of months ago she was battling her own self-doubt while also tuning out the critics who said there was no way she’d be able to compete on an international level so quickly after giving birth.

And as I watch my mom and hers jumping up and down and embracing, I know that I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

Eva and Christopher stand and wave to the crowd in the midst of thunderous applause. Just then, my phone starts buzzing like crazy in my pocket. At first, I plan to ignore it and remain in the moment, but the buzzing continues, so I pull my phone out.