Page 50

Dressed in our official Team USA Tommy Hilfiger apparel, Kappy and I held hands as we walked in the opening ceremony with athletes from all over the world.

The Olympics felt different this time around.

I felt more settled, more sure of myself, and less nervous about the competition.

Because skating wasn’t my everything anymore.

That didn’t mean I didn’t want to win— God, I wanted that gold so bad —but life would go on after this.

As long as Richard was okay, life would go on.

The Rhythm Dance passed by in a whirl.

My mind usually shut off and went blank during big performances and I solely relied on my muscle memory. Not this time. This time, I wanted to be fully present. I wanted to memorize every single moment of skating with Richard.

Standing at the boards before our Free Dance, I grooved deep into the ice, testing my edges.

“My last one. My last dance,” I whispered to myself, shaking each leg out. Tears formed in my eyes, and I gently wiped them away. It all built up to this. Every single day of practice. Every ache and pain. Every loss and triumph.

I looked up to the rafters to pray, but this time, I wasn’t praying for a perfect performance. I was just praying for him .

And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t skating for a medal.

“This one’s just for us,” I vowed, reaching out to hold his hand.

He gave me a firm nod as we moved to our opening positions, facing each other, but not touching, even though we so desperately wanted to be.

“Just for us,” he whispered, dimples flashing on his ruggedly handsome face.

For us.

For our past selves, dancing at the rink and dancing at the bars.

For our present selves, in this moment, with the whole world watching.

And for our future selves, who I thought of as we moved through the yearning part of our program.

The entire crowd died away, and each song lyric was reflected on his face as we moved through the program together.

I felt powerful and triumphant as we completed element after element.

And I cherished jumping into his arms and flying through our lifts, because I knew it would be our last time.

We had it in the bag.

Everything was perfect.

Until the last forty seconds.

A loud beep erupted from his heart monitor.

My eyes locked on his as we pushed into crossovers facing each other.

“Finish,” he uttered, not breaking his stride.

The music was building. Panic was ricocheting through me.

“No,” I whimpered, tightening my grip on his hand.

“Yes,” he said firmly.

I had to let go of him to complete a set of twizzles.

“We have to finish, Piper,” he said in a calm tone. “Until the end, baby. We have to finish.”

Tears filled my eyes.

I couldn’t even think straight.

My body took over.

Twenty more seconds.

The heart monitor continued beeping, warning us.

“Richard,” I cried.

“Focus. Last lift, baby,” he said, trying to talk me through it.

Ten more seconds .

I held the lift, not bothering to hide the emotions on my face. He maneuvered me onto his shoulders, spinning me through the air.

His heart monitor changed pitch, now wailing like a strong siren.

“Don’t worry. We can do this, baby,” he panted.

I was crying as we held the last position.

He smoothly set me down onto the ice and we glided into our ending pose—ten feet away from each other, but facing opposite ends of the rink.

The crowd roared, drowning out the sound of his heart monitor, drowning out any sound at all. It was the loudest applause I’d ever experienced.

“Are you okay?” I shouted, my body shaking with anxiety as I held our pose for three excruciatingly long seconds.

Why wasn’t he answering?

Why?

Oh, no.

No, no, no.

Please, no.

Spinning around, my heart jumped into my throat.

Richard stood there with the brightest grin I’d ever seen on his face. Balling his hands in fists, he punched the air in triumph.

My whole body caved with relief, and I cried into my hands.

He skated at me, pulling me into a hug.

I clung to him, equal parts relieved and terrified. “Are you okay?”

He rested his forehead against mine. “Yes.” He nodded. “We did it. I hope we won.”

“You’re really okay?” My shaky hands went to his face. “You promise?” My voice shook. My breathing went ragged.

He set me on the ice and held my arms. “Breathe, baby. I’m okay, I promise,” he said, pulling me in for another tight hug. “I love you, Piper. I love you so much it hurts.”

With those words, it felt like a dam burst inside of me and the tears broke free again. “I love you, too, Richard. So much.”

He closed his eyes, taking it in, and I realized at that moment how much he needed those words, too.

The crowd rose to their feet, giving us a standing ovation as we made our bows.

Everything felt like it was moving at a high speed around us as we were ushered to the kiss-and-cry, but it felt like I was watching in slow motion .

I didn’t even hear the scores. I didn’t care.

Richard pulled me in for a tight hug and kissed my head. Pulling back, he wiped my tears with his thumbs. “Don’t cry, baby, we need to make sure we get a good mantel picture.”

My shoulders shook with tears. I didn’t think a person could feel so much happiness and relief and terror at the same time.

The whole world thought I was crying over my gold.

I wasn’t.

Not even a little.

Not even a single tear at all was for the medal.