On thin ice, p.27
On Thin Ice, page 27
I pinched the bridge of my nose as images of my mother played through my mind. Her shaking hands, the shadows underneath her eyes, the way she struggled to swallow.
My mother was dying.
And this script reading could be my only opportunity to make her proud one final time.
“I’ll be there,” I said quickly as I entered our dressing room. My stomach churned with a sickening mix of dread and anxiety. “Send the details to Jack, please.”
“Good choice, Luca.”
I stopped in the center of the room, but my eyes were drawn to the photograph taped to the mirror just above the picture of Lily and Matilda.
It was a photo of us—from that day at the beach.
Matilda looked so beautiful. Her damp and wavy hair clung to the curve of her shoulders and cleavage. Her smile was wide and genuine, and her eyes crinkled at the corners.
She might not believe it, but she was a star and never failed to shine brighter than anyone else around her.
She’d printed the photo and stuck it here at the start of week two, declaring that it would keep us on track for the season ahead.
Maybe it was for the best that I did this. It would put the distance between us that we both needed. We could finally face the reality that we wouldn’t be able to make it work, with everything pulling us in different directions.
* * *
Later that day, I was lying across the sofa in our dressing room, watching replays of our rehearsals, when Matilda strutted in, her steps confident and purposeful. Her cheeks were rosy, and stray strands of hair danced around her face, leaving her looking a little wild, like she always did when she stepped off the ice.
“I brought you your favorite crisps.” The bag of pickled onion Monster Munch crinkled as she launched it at my head.
“You mean ‘chips,’ ” I retorted, opening the bag and throwing a monster claw into my mouth. “Thank you.”
“I guess four years in the UK isn’t long enough to acclimatize you to our superior choice of words,” she quipped.
I threw the next claw at her.
And she fucking caught it in her mouth.
“Oh my god, did you see that?” she screeched, covering her mouth with her hand. “You are so lucky to have me as your skating partner.” She performed a small victory dance, earning an eye roll and laugh from me.
“I’m so lucky to have you as a partner because you caught a chip in your mouth?” I deadpanned, raising an eyebrow.
A burst of laughter escaped her. “God, I didn’t realize you were such a jealous person.”
I almost choked on the chip. Fuck, was I too obvious, looking daggers at the rink earlier?
She folded her arms across her chest. “Just because I’m more talented than you doesn’t mean you need to put my achievements down.”
She was talking about catching the damned chip.
Instead of answering, I threw another at her, aiming too low for her to catch it. It hit her stomach and fell to the floor. I raised my eyebrows.
She ducked quickly, collecting it from the floor before popping it in her mouth.
“Oh gross, Stevens.” I grimaced. “That’s disgusting.”
She fell onto the sofa beside me, her coconut scent wafting through the air as she rolled her head along the back of the cushion to look at me.
“We need to get on the ice in twenty.”
“I know.”
Neither of us was thrilled by our skate this week. As it was the final, we had to perform one of our previous skates again. Despite much back and forth, we’d been pushed into the skate inspired by her mother’s Olympic performance. The producers had already approved it, thanks to Julia’s contacting Mark, insisting that while the last time we’d performed it had been “adequate,” there was still room for improvement in order to “wow” the viewers. Neither of them was taking no for an answer. I’d initially refused, reasoning with Matilda that she didn’t have to do it for her mother. But she’d said that when we won, it would be the “cherry on the cake” to get her mother to leave her alone for good, and I couldn’t argue with that.
A sudden thought jolted me—I needed to discuss the phone call with her.
“The Dirty Dancing producers called,” I started, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. Matilda sat bolt upright and spun to face me, eyes bright with excitement.
“And?”
“They want me to go in for a reading with the female lead.”
“Oh my god, Luca! That’s amazing! When did they call, and why didn’t you open with that? Friends are supposed to tell each other stuff immediately.” She gave me a “duh” look and lightly swatted my leg. “When’s the reading?”
Friends.
My mouth felt like sandpaper as I spoke. “That’s the problem. It’s this Friday evening.”
Her brows knitted for a moment before realization dawned. Disappointment flashed in her eyes, but she exhaled, a soft smile gracing her face.
“You have to go.” Her eyes sparkled with warmth and excitement for me.
“But I want to go to the press event together,” I said, even though I knew I couldn’t.
“I know you do, Luca. But you need to go to the reading.” Her words wrapped around me like a suffocating embrace, shouting at me that I was making the wrong decision. “This is why you joined the show in the first place. You can’t miss it for a press event.”
“I spoke to the producers, but they won’t move it.”
“And that is absolutely fine.” She placed a hand on my leg. I ignored the way my skin prickled underneath her touch. “We’ve still got this win in the bag. We will post loads of stuff on social media in the run-up to the final to make up for it.”
I still felt like a dickhead; I couldn’t believe I was bailing again.
“It’s different from last time,” she added, as if reading my thoughts. “You’re not avoiding it because you don’t want to go. You’re getting the part you deserve.”
The conviction in her voice eased the knots in my stomach slightly, but it still didn’t feel right.
Ever since we’d talked about staying just friends, nothing had felt quite right.
Matilda: Knock it out of the park tonight, Luca. You’re going to smash it!
Luca: Thanks, Stevens. Hold the fort for us.
Matilda: You know it! See you tomorrow. X
Luca: Xx
I decided to visit my mom before the audition.
Other than talking to Matilda, my mother was the only other person that could soothe the unsettled feeling in my stomach.
It was weird—I was never nervous about auditioning. Even as a child, I’d been unusually confident. So why the fuck did I feel so jittery?
I scribbled my name on the sign-in form and flashed my ID at the receptionist. It was five o’clock, so I had about an hour before I had to leave for the audition.
I found my mom in her usual evening position: sitting in bed, reading on her Kindle. Her gaze flicked up when I walked in, and she beamed.
“Luca, what are you doing here?” She placed her Kindle on the bed and opened her arms in greeting. I kissed her cheek before giving her a hug, taking a moment longer than usual to bask in her embrace.
“I wanted to see you.” I sank into the armchair across from her bed but studied the painting on the wall instead of meeting her gaze.
“You saw me this morning.”
I ignored her knowing smirk. “I have an audition in a few hours.”
Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Oh, that’s exciting, sweetie! What for?”
“I might have told a white lie about the real reason I decided to go on Stars on Ice.” I cringed at her narrowed eyes. Go on, they said.
So I told her everything.
I searched her face, a crease forming between my brows when instead of the pride I’d been hoping for, pity and sadness flickered across her features.
“So the whole reason you’re doing the show is for me? So you can audition for the part in Dirty Dancing before I die.” Her words were like a whip, and I flinched.
“Don’t say it like that.” A wave of sorrow washed over me at the thought of her not being there. I swallowed, willing the rushing in my ears to settle, as it made it difficult to think straight.
She smiled but didn’t correct herself. “Do you want the part in the film?”
My answer was immediate. “Yes.”
“Take me out of the equation, Luca.” She put her hand on mine. “Do you want the part in the film?”
My response lingered in the silence that followed, hesitation burying itself deep in my bones. “I want it for you.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s your film, Mom.” I held her hand in mine, her skin soft and warm. “I did nothing but disappoint you when we were in America. You’d given up so much of your life to give me mine, and I wasted it. I want to give back to you.” Before you die, I left out.
She released a long breath, eyes softening with some kind of realization.
“You won’t understand this yet because you don’t have children.” She stroked my hand, the gentle caress transporting me straight back to childhood. “All a parent ever wants for their child is for them to be happy. I have always been proud of you. I was never disappointed in your actions, Luca. You were thrown into that world at such a young age, and there were bound to be tests along the way. I was sad because you became this person who was so bitter and angry at the world.”
She held my gaze for a moment, letting the words sink in. A lump formed in my throat, and my sight blurred until I had to look away. When I’d been wrapped up in Nancy, I hadn’t cared about how my reckless behavior affected my mother, hadn’t stopped to think about how it must have felt to see my face splashed across the tabloids every week.
She waited until our eyes met again before she continued, “I wouldn’t care if you never acted again, if that’s what you wanted.”
“But you seemed so excited when I told you I was going back to it.”
“Because I hated seeing you so guarded and shut off from the world. The last few months in L.A., you were completely miserable. Then, when we moved here, you put all your time into looking after me. I wasn’t excited because you were going to be acting again; I was excited that you were going to start living again.”
“I want to make you happy, though.”
She wiped the stray tear from my cheek with a shaky hand.
“My lovely boy, your happiness makes me happy. I don’t want you to chase a part in a film where you have to prove your worth to the producers, especially if you don’t even want the part. And deep down, you know that. Otherwise, you would have told me all those months ago the real reason you were going on Stars on Ice.”
She was right.
“And what about Matilda?” she asked, the warmth of her smile wrapping around me.
The thumping in my chest was now for a completely different reason. Just at the mention of my skating partner’s name, I was like a lovesick puppy.
“What about her?” I coughed away the emotion clogging my throat, attempting to find my voice again.
A flicker of amusement danced in her eyes, but I feigned ignorance. “What about Matilda, Mom?”
“Does she make you happy?”
“Of course she does,” I answered truthfully, before adding, “she’s my friend.”
“That kiss didn’t look like friends. Actually, none of your season has looked like just ‘friends.’ ”
“We agreed to it for the show. More publicity increased our chances of winning.”
She raised a skeptical brow. “Everyone else might believe that, but I don’t. You can’t be coerced into doing anything you don’t want to do. You’ve been headstrong since the day you were born.”
“I didn’t need coercing. I did it because I wanted the part in Dirty Dancing.”
“So why did you bring her here, then?” I sifted through my thoughts, searching for a logical reason. It certainly hadn’t been for the show. “Do you like her?”
I can’t believe this woman used to be a pushover.
“I’ve spent almost every day with her for the past four months. It would be hard not to.”
“You’ve had co-stars you never got along with after spending almost double the time with them. You might be able to fool yourself by saying it’s all for the camera, but I saw the way you looked at her.”
I dragged my hands through my hair. “It doesn’t matter whether I like her or not, Mom.”
“Does Matilda have feelings for you?”
I could still hear the wobble in Matilda’s voice as she told me she liked me too much to be casual. The way her eyes betrayed her sadness, but she held her head high and told me how she was feeling.
Matilda was right. We had to be all or nothing.
My unspoken answer hung in the air.
My mother readjusted her blankets. “Have you told her about Nancy?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever told anyone besides Jack and me? Does Matilda seem like someone you can’t trust?” she asked, not letting up on the inquisition.
Four months ago, I would have said there was no way in hell I could trust Matilda.
But I had told her everything—things about my career, my mother, and my life, some things I’d never told anyone else. And not once had I considered whether she’d betray my trust—because I knew she wouldn’t.
She was one of my favorite people.
“Of course I trust her.”
“So what’s the problem, then? What’s stopping you from being with her?”
“It’s not about the trust anymore. With Dirty Dancing, I’m going to be in and out for years, and the press are already going crazy with her—I don’t want to start something and then leave her to fend for herself. And I definitely don’t want to put Matilda in the position you were in with Dad, where she’s always second-guessing her worth.”
“Luca.” My mother held my gaze, unwavering. “You’re only going to be traveling the world if you want the part in Dirty Dancing, not me. Do not let what you think I want stop you from starting a relationship with the woman you love.”
The woman you love.
Her words lingered in the air, and the realization clicked inside me, a warmth spreading through my chest.
I love Matilda.
“And the media? What if everything goes wrong again?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
“Look at me.” She grabbed both hands and squeezed. “I mean, really look at me.” I didn’t like her resigned tone one bit. My eyes started burning again for the second time in twenty minutes.
“I am going to die, and you should always take advice from a dying person.” She smiled, not a crease of worry or sadness on her face. “You get one life and one life only, Luca. We aren’t coming back to live it again, so live it while you’re here. Live your life like you’re dying. Do the things that make you scared, because they’re the ones that matter.”
The press event buzzed with energy, flashing cameras, and journalists huddling around their notepads as they interviewed the celebrities and the other professional skaters while waiters darted around. After so many weeks together, everyone mingled effortlessly, their laughter ringing out above the steady, rhythmic thump of music. Amid the chaos, I smiled, content to be enjoying the electric atmosphere.
Yet I couldn’t stop my gaze from drifting to the door, despite knowing Luca wasn’t coming.
I knew it would be ridiculous to prioritize an optional press event over his one chance to land the role.
But I had gotten used to Luca’s towering figure at my side, his dry running commentary, and how when he was near I felt more myself than I ever had. His calm confidence had a way of anchoring me, making me believe I could be steady, too. If you’d told me four months ago that I’d have restarted therapy and stood up to my family, I’d just have laughed. But I had, and it felt good.
Lifting the prosecco glass to my lips and taking a sip, I scanned the room for someone to latch on to.
A few people had already asked about Luca’s whereabouts, and I had answered honestly, explaining that he was at an audition. Luca had mentioned it wasn’t a secret, and Jack had already informed most of the press that he wouldn’t be attending.
I thought it was his way of ensuring I didn’t feel embarrassed and stood up, like last time.
Gathering up the hem of my white dress, I wove through the crowd to where Asha was speaking to a journalist and camera operator.
The dress shimmered with each step I took, its pale, sparkly fabric catching the light and creating a soft, ethereal glow. My lightly tanned skin contrasted with the delicate material, enhancing its radiance, while loose beach waves cascaded around my shoulders.
Asha’s eyes locked onto mine, and she waved me over. I hurried my steps, careful not to trip in my heels, and pulled her into a hug before pressing a quick peck on her cheek.
We twisted back to the camera, and the blinding spotlight focused on us. Before I could speak, Asha jumped in and gave my waist a light squeeze. “I’ll leave you with Matilda. She’s far more interesting than I am.”
My head snapped in her direction. Traitor.
She winked and blew me a kiss before sauntering off in a trail of midnight-black hair and luscious curves.
Standing in front of flashing cameras and pressing journalists would only heighten my nerves.
“Hi, Matilda. How are you enjoying your evening?” The journalist held the microphone toward me.
“It’s good, thank you.” I turned my head over my shoulder, gazing at the packed room. “Everyone looks amazing, and it’s so nice to be back together. The studio has been feeling quieter and quieter with every week that passes.”
