Page 68

BUNNY HOPS

Sabrina

If I got through my un-marriage, I can handle this.

Wait—let me revise that.

I did survive not only being jilted, but running away, embarrassing myself in front of a hot hockey stud, getting fired, and being disowned. And after that, I lived in a garlic palace.

This heartbreak? It’s nothing.

This ache in my chest is easy.

This hollow feeling is cake.

I tell myself that the next day over and over when the kids are back at school and Tyler’s off doing…hockey things. Pumping iron. Grunting with the guys. Stalking around with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Whatever.

I go to Sunnyside Rink, say hi to Hank and Marla at the front, then meet Jasmine for a lesson. And holy hell, this girl is fire. Her loops and axels are next level .

“I can feel it, Jasmine. The way you want this,” I tell her. I never promise medals or glory. But I do want to encourage passion.

“Thank you, Sabrina. I’ve got a plan. I know what I want,” she says, skating off the ice.

Her mom looks on knowingly. “She sure does.”

“A plan is good,” I say.

And I have one too—to build and grow this business. That is what I’m going to do. And I don’t need the distraction of a man getting in the way.

And he, clearly, doesn’t need or want the distraction of me.

So I don’t give that to him.

I take care of the kids. I pick them up. I chauffeur them to their activities. I coach Luna on her single axel at the rink. I visit High Kick Coffee with them, say hi to their great-grandmother while they do homework and try out her newest treats.

If I were keeping a list of all my nanny accomplishments, I’d be acing it. Because I am excellent at this.

And really, that has to be good enough.

Tiffany is working on her bunny hop, making progress faster than I’d expected.

“Go you! You’re acing it already,” I say as she shows me her moves at our next lesson.

“I told you I could do it,” she says.

“You were right.”

When the lesson ends, her mom beckons me over to her spot on the bench.

“So…I’ve been thinking.”

My heart skips faster. I have a feeling. “Yes? ”

“I’ve been thinking about lessons,” she says.

I want to squeal, but I keep my composure. “And?”

“And I kind of want to do a girls’ night out on the rink. Just me and my besties. What do you think?”

Goosebumps rise on my arms. I think that sounds amazing. “I would love to host it,” I say, already thinking of ideas, things to teach them, basic moves, the fun we can have.

“Perfect. Let’s do it.”

Later that day, before I pick up the kids, I slide into a booth at Moon Over Milkshakes with Isla, Trevyn, and Leighton. Beach music plays faintly overhead and servers bustle by with plates of burgers and fries, sandwiches and salads.

“How’s everything going?” Leighton asks me, her tone lined with concern. Like she senses I might be going through some shit.

But I am not dwelling. I am not wallowing.

“Great!” I say, then urge them to order and once we do, I dive into updates about my students’ progress.

“And it occurred to me—I should do girls’ nights out.

I should offer that. Isn’t that a great idea?

Especially since I’m skating this weekend at the Sea Dogs arena again.

It would be a great opportunity to capitalize on that.

By having girls’ night out options on my site,” I say, then snap my fingers.

“Oh, that reminds me—I need to post the skating video that Ty?—”

But I swallow the word Tyler.

I don’t want to go there. Don’t want to rehash the hurt.

The more I throw myself into work, the less I’ll feel it. The faster I’ll move on.

“Tyler,” Isla supplies, tilting her head from across the mint green booth. “What’s going on, friend?”

My heart squeezes. My throat tightens .

“Sweetie,” Trevyn says, reaching for my hand. “You can tell us.”

He knows some of it. He saw me Sunday night and helped me through that evening. But that was before Tyler knocked on my door and yanked the rug completely out from under us.

But truly, it was no surprise. It’s better if we pretend nothing happened. It’s always been better that way. We were foolish to think we could magically jump from working together in his home with his kids to being…together.

Besides, he has too much on his plate.

I swallow past the tightness, trying to will it away.

“It’s just…” I wave a hand, trying to dismiss all these mounting feelings.

“What happened?” Leighton asks, her voice calm and steady.

I draw a breath. “We broke up. Well…really, he did.”

“Oh no,” Leighton says gently.

“Really?” Isla asks, her eyes sad.

“Yeah. Really,” I say, then I tell them everything.

Everything I didn’t tell Tyler.

Everything about my father’s visit.

Exactly how awful it made me feel.

Isla nods, absorbing it all, then says, “So when you were already at rock-bottom, his kids suggested marriage, he didn’t jump on it, you shut down, and he walked it all the way backward because he couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on with you.”

I blink. “How did you get all of that from what I just said?”

She shrugs, like it was easy, or easy-ish. “I’m a dating coach. My job is literally to study romance and help people find happily-ever-afters.”

“And so you figured out he couldn’t figure out what was going on with me?” I ask, still incredulous at how she read us like that.

She doesn’t back down. “Sabrina, you’re really good at being great.”

I feel like I’ve just walked into a pole. “What does that mean? Are you saying I fake it?”

Isla reaches for my hand. “No, no. But I am saying you’ve had to learn self-protection.

You’ve had no choice—because of your parents, but also because you have uncommon talent.

You’re really damn good at throwing yourself into skating, into success.

And I’m not saying you shouldn’t throw yourself into your business.

I’m just wondering…is it possible Tyler had no clue where your emotions were at?

And maybe he made some stupid assumptions? ”

Trevyn nods sagely. “Because men can make some really stupid-ass assumptions.”

I swat his arm. “You’re not supposed to side with him.”

He squeezes my shoulder but doesn’t let my comment slide. “I’m not siding with him. I’m siding with… seeing all sides. ”

Leighton gives me a thoughtful look. “And you know, the thing is—he’s really caught up in being a great dad, because his dad wasn’t.

Miles felt similar pressure—he felt like he had to be super responsible at all times.

Move forward. He was so focused on being responsible, on doing the right thing, but sometimes it tripped him up.

A lot of that pressure came from their dad and the way he walked out.

And Tyler? He is a dad, so I bet he’s dealing with that in his own way.

He probably feels the pressure to do the opposite of his dad too. ”

I frown. I’d never really thought about that. I hadn’t considered how much he carried. “What do I do with that? I can’t go back and have him un-break up with me because we both have daddy issues. ”

Leighton takes a beat, then nods slowly. “I’m not sure. But maybe…the two of you aren’t done talking.”

I mull on that as the server brings our lunch.

“It’s something to think about,” Isla says, nudging me toward this new…realization, perhaps.

Maybe I should think about it.

But first, I eat lunch with my friends, and afterward, I finally post the skating video from Cozy Valley with the caption : It’s like lightning.

I wonder if Tyler still watches them.

I don’t know.

But Chad clearly does, since he leaves a comment that evening.

Good job, Sabrina.

Maybe if he’d done this a while ago, I’d have cursed, spat, or sent a million Can you believe this? screenshots to my friends.

Instead, I just delete his words.

And I make another appointment to see Elena. But how to handle Tyler isn’t so easy. I don’t know what I’ll say to him or if I’m ready to open my heart to hurt again.

And I don’t know when I will be.