“Walter, thanks for doing this,” Declan says as they shake hands.
“Any time, man,” he responds and then looks at me, asking, “You ready?”
“We’re skating?”
Declan laughs, and Walter says, “That’s the deal we made. You ever been?”
Slightly embarrassed, I tell him, “Actually . . . no. I haven’t.”
“Never?” Declan asks, and when I shake my head, he says, “But you live here in the park.” When I shrug my shoulders, he jokes, “This oughta be fun,” and I smile at his mischievous grin.
After we grab our skates, Walter opens the gate to the rink, and I grab ahold of the metal railing as Declan steps out onto the ice with ease.
“Take my hand,” he instructs, seeing my nervousness.
“This is embarrassing,” I tell him.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“You’re always so uptight, Nina,” he says. “Come on, take my hand.”
“I’m gonna fall on my ass.”
He glides over to me, holding out both of his hands, and tells me, “Let go of the railing and take my hands.”
Placing one hand in his, I step onto the ice before letting go of the railing and giving him my other hand. It doesn’t take but a second before my balance falters, and I fall into his chest. He grips my waist, laughing, and says, “Relax. You’re too stiff.”
“It’s freezing out here, and you’ve got me on ice. I can’t relax,” I grumble.
“Stop bitching.” He then takes my hands again and begins skating backwards while gliding me forward. “Try moving your feet.”
“Uh uh. I’ll fall.”
With a grin on his face, he asks, “Why are you so stubborn?”
“Are you serious? I could ask you the same question.”
“Just for today, why don’t you try trusting me?”
As he continues to hold my hands and pull me around the rink while he skates backwards with total control, I question, “Is that what you like? Having someone that just obeys you and never voices their opinion?”
“No, Nina. It’s not about obeying, it’s about trusting; something I don’t think you do too easily.”
“Trust can be costly,” I argue.
“Or it can be comforting.”
He keeps his eyes steady on me when I finally give in, and with a sigh, agree, “Okay, fine. One day.”
His smile is cocky, and I shake my head at him, asking, “How did you get the rink to open for us?”
“Walter did some work for me at the hotel during construction. So I called him, slipped him a few bills, and here we are.”
“Is everything that easy for you?”
“No,” he says with a piercing look. “Some things I have to work for.”
He says this and I drop my eyes to cut the tension building, and when I do, I lose my balance, tripping over my toes. I grab on to his coat as I fall hard on my hip, pulling him down with me. He hovers over me, laughing, while I’m flat on my back.
“My ass is getting wet,” I say as I try to sit up, but he doesn’t allow me with his body lying on top of mine.
His fingers run through my hair, and he murmurs, “Your red hair is beautiful with the snow in it.”
A shiver runs through me from the chill of the ice, and he moves away, getting steady on his feet before helping me up.
“You done?”
I give him a nod, and he helps me off the ice and over to a bench. When we sit down, he pulls my feet onto his lap and starts to untie the laces on my skates. Slipping them off my feet, he runs his thumbs firmly up the arch of my foot, kneading along the way before repeating the same on my other foot. I watch him as he does this, and he never pulls his attention away from my eyes. The adoration he exudes is palpable, and it’s a shame that it’s wasted on someone like me, but I’ll take it and use it to my benefit.
We get our shoes on and thank Walter before we rush back towards my building. Walking over to his car, he pulls his keys out and opens the passenger door.
“Get in.”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s my one day for you to trust me,” he says. “Get in.”
I move past him and slip down into the leather seat of his Mercedes before he closes the door. When he gets in, he starts the car and pulls out onto the scarce streets of the city. I keep quiet during the drive as we head north on Michigan Avenue towards River North. Looking over at him, he turns his head to me, questioning, “What?”
“Are you taking me to your place?”
He shoots me a wink, and when I open my mouth to speak, he shuts me down, reminding, “One day, Nina.”
Turning into the building’s garage on Superior, we head inside and onto the elevator. He slips a key into the punch pad before hitting P.
“You nervous about being here?” he asks as we ascend to the top floor.
“Should I be?”
Stepping over to me, he takes my hand as the doors slide open, and we step off the elevator and into an impressive living space. He has the whole top floor to himself, and as I look across the massive living room with multiple bucket accents in the vaulted ceiling, I note the architectural detailing of the modern design. Near solid glass walls that look out over the city, and against the far wall, an enormous Archlinea chef’s kitchen.
Noticing the stainless steel staircase, I ask, “What’s up there?”