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Instead, he and his partner Zoe have performed the unforgettable.

And we thank them for that.

What a stunning performance.

THIRTY-SEVEN

CAM

I’d danced with everything in me, given everything I had to give, and when the music stopped, when it was over, the emotion hurtled in. I went to my knees on the ice, shaking, grinning, maybe crying, but I couldn’t feel my face to know. It was over. I’d done it. I’d danced right on the edge of everything I’d had, and it was damn good. The best I’d ever done.

I hugged Zoe. “We did it, we did it!”

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

We said it over and over, hugged, and I was on my feet again, wobbly and spent but buzzing too.

We’d done it.

We’d fucking done it!

I turned toward the gate, where Miles was waiting. His wild grin told its own story. He punched the air. Yes!

There, standing next to him . . .

Ren.

My gaze hit him hard, and the toe picks on my blades dug in, almost planting me face-first into the ice. Zoe caught my hand. Damn. It would have been all over social media if I’d fallen on my ass right after the best performance of my life. The only Olympic ice dancer to fall getting off the ice.

But I didn’t care. Ren was here.

There were cameras too, beside him and Miles, waiting to catch all the raw emotions.

Ren’s here.

I’d left him at the airport. He’d been gone. Flown back to England.

Ren was fucking here!

He stood rigid, but smiling. Like he’d just stepped out of a cab from the airport, wearing the same damn coat. He’d been gone a day. On a plane back to England, I’d thought. Not a word, not a text. I’d had to push him from my mind to get through yesterday after letting him go, just to get through the free dance today, and now he’d shown up at the edge of the ice like nothing had happened. He shouldn’t even be there waiting for me. People would see. Rival athletes didn’t hang out with other teams at the end of the program. But there he was, right next to Miles.

I almost didn’t believe it, and when I stepped off the ice, I had no idea what to do with him. I blinked, all goofy-eyed and dumbstruck.

Miles slapped me on the back and took both Zoe and me in his arms. “Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!”

I turned to Ren. The cameraman loitered to my left, huge camera lens pointed at us, mic open.

“Hey . . .” I panted, still breathing hard, hands on my hips.

People would know this was unusual. Commentators would immediately pick up on it. “Ren Hasegawa greets Camden, his ex-dance partner, off the ice. Look at this, folks, maybe they don’t hate each other after all.”

“Hello,” he said.

“Hello?” I snorted. “That’s all you’ve got?”

He reached out and pulled me into his arms in full view of the camera. I teetered on my skates, half falling into him. I hadn’t expected it. Ren Hasegawa did not hug people in front of cameras, ever. I brought my arms up around him and buried my face in his neck. He smelled clean and soapy. “You saw?” I trembled from adrenaline. My words shook too.

His arms tightened, holding me still. “I saw.”