Free Fighting for the Edge by Jennifer Comeaux Page B

Christmas Eve.”
    “Hmm…” She nibbled on one end of her chopsticks.
    “And we could go skating at Frog Pond so you wouldn’t actually be lying. I’ll pretend to coach you. I can do a mean Russian accent.” He grinned.
    Her lips twitched upward, and she tapped them with the chopstick. “It’s a very interesting idea.”
    “We’ll go to Em’s family dinner, and the next day we can feast on the leftovers you know Mrs. Debbie’s gonna give us. And we can watch the Christmas Story marathon on TV all day.”
    She gasped. “Don’t tell me you love that movie, too?”
    “Uh, yeah. Who doesn’t?”
    “Em hates it, so she would never watch it with me. It’s the one Christmas movie I love.”
    “Then you have to stay in Boston so we can watch it on repeat for twelve hours straight.”
    She bit her lip. “My mom won’t be happy.”
    “But you won’t be happy if you go home, and you deserve to have a fun holiday.”
    The sincere warmth in his eyes reached out to her like a virtual hug, one she didn’t want to leave. She realized she was staring at him, so she dropped her gaze to her food.
    “I’ll call my mom later.” She looked back up at Chris and smiled. “Staying here definitely sounds like a much better plan.”
    He whooped and jumped up. “This calls for some celebration music.”
    “You’re not putting on Christmas carols, are you?” She moaned as he went over to his laptop on the coffee table.
    “I’m gonna melt the Scrooge out of you, just you wait.” He clicked on the mouse a few times, and “Jingle Bell Rock” started playing. With his fingers snapping, he returned to sitting across from her.
    “My ears are bleeding,” she said.
    “This is a classic. You just have to embrace the cheesiness of it.” He sorted through the ornaments spread over the carpet and picked up two of them. “Tweety Bird and Chewbacca. Now that would be a fascinating encounter.”
    She laughed and shook her head. Maybe Christmas didn’t have to be completely horrible.
    ****
    “Mom, you don’t have to cook for us every night,” I said while turning on my parents’ dishwasher. “We can make our own meals.”
    “I like having us all at the table together. It’s good family time I don’t get often enough with you.”
    She was already pulling out the guilt card, and Sergei and I had only been in Boston a few hours. When we’d returned from Tokyo the day before, I’d had a long talk with her, making sure she’d give us space to breathe. But she had a tendency of falling back into old habits, such as smothering me.
    “I just don’t want to feel obligated to be here for dinner at a certain time every night,” I said. “We have our own schedule, and you promised to respect it.”
    “I will, I will. I just love seeing your face around here again.” Mom touched her hand to my cheek.
    “I echo that,” Dad said as he entered the kitchen from the den. He kissed the top of my head on his way to the refrigerator.
    I sat on the stool next to the island and listened to Mom and Dad discussing the projects they wanted to tackle while on winter break. They didn’t have to return to teaching at Boston University until after nationals.
    While Mom prattled on about organizing the mess in the garage, Dad gave her a patient ear, quietly sipping from his cup of water. They’d always had such a solid, steady relationship, treating each other as equal partners. It was exactly how I hoped Sergei and I would be after thirty years of marriage.
    Sergei came in from the dining room with his cell phone to his ear. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Drive safe.”
    “What time is Elena dropping off Liza?” I asked as he snapped his phone shut.
    “Around noon. She’ll meet us at the rink.”
    “She could bring her here,” Mom said. “Jim and I will be home.”
    Sergei leaned against the counter. “You know Liza – she wants to skate as soon as she gets here. After four hours in the car, she’ll be ready to jump on the