I skate across and lean against the railing beside him. “We can go now if you want.”
“What? No way. I’m having fun.”
I look at his hands as they grip onto the railing for dear life, and stifle a laugh.
He follows my gaze. “Yeah, okay,” he says with a chuckle, loosening his grip. “I’m not great. I warned you about that. You’re a natural, though.”
I flash him a grin, doing a little twirl on the ice, my coat swirling out around me. His cheeks dimple and he pushes off the railing towards me. My heart almost stops as his gloved hand slides into mine, and we tentatively set off to do a loop together.
Together.
Wow. It’s like I’m in a dream, ice skating at Rockefeller rink, hand-in-hand with him. Any minute I’m going to wake up on the sofa in my old flat, with drool down my face and the imprint of the TV remote on my forehead.
But that doesn’t happen. Instead, I try to keep Michael steady as we make our way around, loving the way his big hand feels in mine, the way he tightens his grip when he feels like he’s going to fall.
We make it around the rink without touching the sides, Michael beaming at me the whole time. I giggle at his expression, at how proud he is of something so silly.
He squeezes my hand. “Thanks for making me do this, Alex.” His whole face is alive in a way I’ve never seen and I squeeze back, my heart somersaulting in my chest. It would be so easy to pull him towards me, to reach up and press my lips to his. I practically have him captive, after all. He could hardly make a getaway on those unsteady legs.
I give in to the daydream edging its way into my mind: Michael’s strong arms tightening around me and pulling me close, the warmth from his touch rushing over me despite the ice. I imagine what the brush of his lips might feel like over mine, how his eyes would crinkle in that sweet way as he gazes down at me, so gorgeous that I can’t see anything else. My stomach fills with butterflies at the thought and a little ache tugs at me.
But Michael drops my hand and I swallow, forcing myself to push the image away. I’ve spent way too much time writing my romance novel.
I watch as he carefully skates a few feet away from me, testing his legs. Then he turns, his eyes bright as they meet mine. He goes to push off and skate back to me, but something happens and he loses his balance. I watch in horror as he wobbles, his arms windmilling at his sides, his skates slipping out in front of him as he tries to stop his fall.
But it’s inevitable. His legs shoot out from under him and he lands on his back with a huge thump.
“Michael!” I skate over and drop to my knees beside him, my pulse whipping through me.
He’s gasping for breath and I realize he’s winded from the fall. I grab his arm, helping to pull him up to a sitting position. People whiz past us, and I can feel the wet from the ice seeping through my tights, but I don’t care. I’m too worried about him.
He manages to suck in a breath, and I feel him squeeze my hand again. That’s when I realize I’m holding his hand and clutching his arm in concern. I try to loosen my grip but my hands won’t listen.
“Whoops,” he says with an embarrassed smile. He attempts a laugh but it turns into a wince.
“Have you hurt yourself?”
He rotates his left shoulder and nods.
“Fuck,” I mutter, glancing around. There’s no way I can pull him to his feet by myself.
“It’s okay. I can get up.” He drops my hand and winces again as he awkwardly clambers to his feet.
I push up to stand and take his arm, helping him over to the exit where we climb out. He takes a seat at a table, but I’m too worried to sit. I hover beside him, wanting to rub his back and soothe him, but not wanting to hurt him more.
He tests his shoulder again, grimacing in pain, and guilt chews through me.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, wringing my hands. This is all my fault. He said he didn’t want to go and I forced him.
He looks up at me. “What? Why?”
“Because I made you skate. And, shit, now you’re going to have to go to the hospital and it’s going to cost you a fortune in medical bills because you have no bloody public health care over here.” I rub my forehead. He has every right to be mad at me—I couldn’t blame him.
But Michael’s eyes just glitter in that amused way they do when he thinks I’m being silly. “I have insurance,” he says, rotating his shoulder again. “But I don’t think it’s that bad. Maybe just get me some ice?”
“Erm…” I glance at the ice rink and back at him, and he laughs, then winces. “Okay, okay,” I say, looking around for one of the skate-rink attendants. At that moment a guy in a blazer comes running over to us. There’s a lanyard around his neck with his name—Barnaby.
“That was quite a tumble!” he says jovially, but there’s an air of nervousness about him.
“Yes.” I place a tentative hand on Michael’s shoulder. “He’s hurt his shoulder, so can we—”
“Oh dear. Please remove your skates and you can come with us.”
“Come with…” I begin but Barnaby dashes off and leans close to speak to another attendant. I glance at Michael in confusion and he rolls his eyes.
“They’re probably worried we’re going to sue.”
A disbelieving laugh slides from my lips as I unlace and remove my boots. “Seriously?”
He nods, reaching down for his boots and flinching again. I
