No. I thought about him stirring almonds and scratching behind Esmeralda’s ears. Looking up new recipes he thought I’d like and beaming at me with that beautiful smile that crinkled his eyes.

I couldn’t tell her I was still as stupid and pathetic as I’d been in Vancouver when I’d let myself believe I was understood. Wanted, even. She’d give me self-talk exercises and tell me I was harder on myself than even the Russian judges, and I’d be expected to find it humorous.

“I realize it’s easier said than done, but can you put on your mental blinders over the holidays and concentrate on the choices and actions that are in your control? Can you stop obsessing over Theo Sullivan?”

“Absolutely.”

Another lie.

“Take off your shirt.”

It was absolutely ridiculous that my heart thumped at those words. Theodore knew I had a muscle strain, and after our dinner of leftover curry and freshly steamed broccoli, he’d gone up to his condo and returned with a blue bead ice pack that had a soft fabric covering on one side.

“I have ice packs,” I said.

With a low riiip, he pulled apart the black fabric straps. “But this one stays on really well. Here.” He beckoned me closer.

I stood at the sink rinsing Esmeralda’s dish. I’d given her too much food again, but only a bit. “I’m fine.”

Rolling his eyes, Theodore crossed to me, his socked feet silent. Before I could object, my hands still full with the dish and sponge, he lifted the hem of my T-shirt. I made a sound that could have been called a squeak.

“It’s okay,” he murmured. “You can keep it on.” He slipped his hands around my ribs, his breath warm on the back of my neck. The cold pack touched my back, and I gasped softly. He shifted it, asking, “Is that the right place?” His right hand was splayed on my stomach, and I shivered.

“A little to the left,” I whispered. “There.”

Standing close to me, he tightened the straps around my stomach, sealing the Velcro. “Okay?”

I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. But I managed, “Cold.”

His laugh tickled my ear. “That’s the whole idea. You’re doing cold-hot, right? I have a brilliant idea for the hot part.”

My belly somersaulted. Did I want to know?

Before long, I followed Theodore out of the changing room and across the tile pool deck to the condo’s hot tub. We had the entire area to ourselves, which perhaps wasn’t surprising for later on a weeknight. There were cold puddles of water on the tile from earlier users.

“I was like, you can’t be serious. You want me to skate to Phantom and wear a bodysuit with the white mask design over half of me diagonally? What is this, the eighties?” Theodore scoffed as he tossed his towel over a hook on the wall and continued on to the shower in the corner. His towel had barely caught, and it slipped to the floor.