From Lukov with Love

by Mariana Zapata

And goddamn. Mother of God. Holy shit. Jesus H. Christ.

“I hate you,” I whispered. And Ivan laughed. Laughed. “You love me.”

“I love you, Jasmine,” he said, the movement going faster. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he repeated.

He smiled. More than smiled. He lit up.

I couldn’t help but laugh, loud, so loud it kind of freaked me out. But what didn’t freak me out was the giant smile that Ivan gave me from above.

“I love the way you smile,” he said with a dreamy, sleepy expression. “I want to tell you to do it more often, but I don’t.” I took in every inch of that flawless face. “Why?” He didn’t even have his eyes open as he responded. “Because you don’t give it to everyone.”

“And I don’t plan on sharing you.”

Those bright blue-gray eyes landed directly into mine, and we didn’t need to nod or do anything. We just smiled at each other. Our own little secret. Our own thing.

We’d woken up this morning in my room, with me drooling on his hand and his leg thrown over one of mine, and it had been the best morning of both of our lives. He’d told me so, and I’d just known. Then he’d pinched the shit out of my ass cheek, and it was like it was supposed to be between us. Perfect.

The smile that crept over his lips and cheek muscles was lazy… almost filthy… a fucking promise of what was for sure going to happen tonight regardless of anything else.

It was his trustful smile. The one he shared with me. It was mine.

So I couldn’t help but smile right back at him, wider than before. It wasn’t anything big, but it was his and only his. And he knew it was because his smile grew even wider.

That was when I looked over my shoulder at the man in the brown and gold costume that my sister had created, and found him already looking at me, with a smirk aimed right at me. He looked happy. And for the first time, I felt happy as I stood there, not nervous, not overwhelmed. I just felt happy. Ready. So I smirked back at him.

He mouthed I love you, and I winked at him.

Ivan got into position at the same time I did, both of us never looking anywhere else.

If the crowd went quiet, I had no idea because I was zoning them out just as Ivan’s face came to ...

“You suck,” he whispered, his breath against my cheek. I just barely held back a smile as I ...

The man beside me made a noise that had me glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. He had his head cocked to look at me, a smirk I knew like the back of my hand pasted on that mouth that had stayed just as annoying and wonderful as it had been even over the years.

I snickered, and he smiled. We were already plastered at our sides, perfectly lined up from hip to thigh. His arm was pressed to mine. Ivan slipped it out and raised it, throwing it over my shoulder and hugging me to him even more than he already had. I lifted my legs and draped them over his lap, earning me a kiss on the cheek

And four years since Ivan had looked at me and said, “Find another partner. You don’t have to retire because I am.” What a fucking idiot. Some shit never changed. Like there was anyone else I would ever want to partner with.

Most importantly, it had been nine years since we’d gotten married. Nine years and three months from the moment he had said, panting and red-faced, out on the ice at the end of our long program while the crowd went fucking nuts, “I think you should marry me, Meatball.”

I’d only made him ask three times. And when we got married in the same nondenominational church that Jojo had married James, it had been the greatest moment of my entire life.

It had only taken me years to figure out I could make everything work with the right person. And this idiot beside me who hugged me and grabbed my ass at least a dozen times at the LC randomly throughout the day, who took care of me and motivated me and wanted the best for me every single day of my life, was it.

And like he knew exactly what I was thinking, Ivan leaned over and kissed my temple, squeezing me to him even tighter.