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Scott buys the ring in 2010, eight months after winning gold in Vancouver and roughly forty-five minutes after Tessa was wheeled in for her second and hopefully final surgery. He had been there to hold her hand as the anesthesia kicked in and to wave as she was taken inside the operation room. He will be there when she wakes up—the mistakes of two years ago still burn shamefully inside his heart and he won’t make the same ones again. But the surgery is going to take about three hours and if he has to sit in the sterile, colorless waiting room the entire time, all he’ll think about is how he should have been there last time and how much he betrayed their partnership and he will actually drive himself crazy.
So, he walks. Down one busy street and down another and he isn't paying much attention to the bright October day or any of the storefronts until he sees sparkle. There is no explanation for why he pushes the door open to this little jewelry shop, or why he pauses in front of this ring. Scott knows nothing about jewelry, but he knows Tessa.
The ring is silver--like all of Tessa's jewelry. It has two bands that cross on top with inlaid diamonds, which is perfect because she stopped wearing rings to practice after the stone on one tore his mesh during a dress rehearsal in 2006. She would love it because it is shiny and fancy and beautiful but unobtrusive, all of which are the exact reasons he loves Tessa (well those, plus a few others, like her infinite patience and kindness and forgiveness and how she may very well be the source of all goodness in his life).
The cashier compliments his choice, telling him that his lucky lady will definitely say yes, and Scott starts, having not considered that particular implication of buying a ring. But it’s not like he’s opposed to proposing to Tessa; in fact, ever since he was nine years old he always assumed that she’d marry him, eventually. Only recently has it occurred to him that perhaps she not only no longer loves him the way she did when they were teenagers and each other’s first everything before they decided winning the Olympics was far more important, but that she may not ever want to even consider committing herself to him after skating. Their partnership is back on track now, after a long series of conversations, and their friendship is well on its way, even as it lags behind their public assertions as to its strength.
Those are rational and realistic concerns, he knows, but Tessa is the rational and realistic one in their partnership, and Scott is the emotional one. That’s the public’s perception anyway, and while it’s not wholly accurate, there is no denying that he is the one more likely to make rash decisions based on gut feelings. Right now, his gut, as it has for the last thirteen years, feels that this ring is Tessa’s and Tessa is his. His gut may be the only one who feels like this—even his heart isn’t quite on board, and Tessa certainly is far from it—but everything and everyone else will eventually catch up so he buys the ring.
Then he goes back to the hospital, waits with Kate, greets his loopy partner, and tries not to be hurt by the soft surprise in her green eyes when she opens them to find him at her bedside. The ring goes in his drawer and they go back to training for Sochi. They have Olympic rings to worry about before they’re ready for engagement ones.
Despite purchasing an engagement ring, which many would think indicates some sort of readiness to actually get engaged, Scott is nowhere near that level of ready when it comes to his feelings for Tessa. Maybe it’s because he knows deep down that if, when, he and Tessa rekindle, or maybe acknowledge, their feelings for one another, that’ll be it—it’s forever. Maybe it’s because four years until Sochi is a long time to wait and he gets lonely. Maybe it’s because she still doesn’t quite look at him the way she used to, and he’s too immature to figure out how to get her to again. Either way, he dates Cassandra. She’s lovely but not that serious and it ends sometime after he and Tessa start performing Carmen. There’s no correlation, he’s pretty sure.
Then Sochi happens, and breaks both their hearts. Scott spirals for a while—this is supposed to be the time he really dedicates to finally getting Tessa on board with his engagement, marriage, life-long partnership plan, but he can’t look at her without feeling some mixture of guilt and grief, and he sees it reflected in her eyes. They talk less and try to settle into retirement. He dates Kaitlyn. She’s lovely, and it is serious, the most serious relationship he’s ever been in, except the one he was (is?) in with Tessa because no matter how fun and relaxing normalcy is, he still belongs to her.
He’s at his family’s house for Christmas in 2015, and Kaitlyn is not there, and Tessa is not there, so he feels a little ambushed and uncomfortably without backup when his mother corners him in the kitchen after dinner.
“We’ve missed seeing Tessa around.” She announces, speaking for their entire family as usual.
Me too, he thinks, but doesn’t say. What he says is: “Tess has been so busy with school and her designs. It’s the year of ‘yes,’ you know, and she’s just out there making us all proud.”
Alma gives him the flattest look he has ever seen her wear, and her disgust with his practiced media-friendly non-answer is so palpable he actually squirms like a little boy. “I don’t think she’s very happy with me.” He admits, quietly. “And I’m not sure what to do to make her happy again, or if I even can.”
“Have you talked to her?” His mom asks, expression softening.
He shakes his head. “Only about touring and stuff, not…not about anything real.”
Suddenly, she’s holding him, again like he was a little boy, and even though he’s taller than her, he feels safe for moment. It has always been him and Tessa against the world—it’s nice to be reminded that even though he and T aren’t the united front they’ve always been, someone is unquestionably in his corner. Alma pulls away, and she gestures for him to take a seat at the kitchen table. He does so, and she sits right across from him, face soft but serious.
“Scott, you know I support you in everything you do.”
And he tenses right back up because the tone of voice she takes just now is the same one she took after Vancouver when he was getting kicked out of bars and was hungover most mornings. He’s been on his best behavior lately though so he’s not sure, other than not bringing Tessa around, what his mother has to be disappointed in him about.
“You didn’t bring Kaitlyn for Christmas either.” Alma points out.
Scott isn’t sure where this is going. “No, she had her own family to visit.”
“I know you both are practically living together, and even Kate has mentioned this seems more serious than past girlfriends.”
He looks intently at the placemat in front of him, mind reeling. Because if Kate said something, it had to have been based on what Tessa told her because he didn’t see the Virtue family as much as he used to, and he certainly would never bring Kaitlyn to meet them. Why that is so certain, Scott refuses to think about. So, Tessa was talking to her mom about him and Kaitlyn. Hope blooms in his chest, and for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t immediately try to stamp it out.
“It is serious, I guess.” He says.
Alma reaches forward to cover his hands with hers, urging him to look at her. “How serious, Scotty? Are you thinking she’s the one? That you’ll marry her?”
Before he realizes he’s doing it, he shakes his head emphatically. Then stops, knowing how that might look--this visceral rejection of the idea of marrying his serious live-in girlfriend of over almost two years. But there’s a ring in his drawer intended for another woman and that probably doesn’t look great either. “I don’t think we’re there yet, Mom. Marrying anyone is a long way off.”
There’s a twist to her mouth that says she’s not fully satisfied with his answer, but his mom drops it, and they rejoin the rest of the family for continued celebrations.
That night, alone in his childhood bedroom, mere kilometers from where he knows Tessa is celebrating Christmas with her family, he thinks about what he said. He’s actually been coming around to the idea of settling down with one person; getting a house, a dog; having some kids. He’d like to coach someday, maybe start at the Ilderton rink but hopefully end up somewhere a little bigger like Montreal. Marie-France and Patch are up there at Gadbois, and it’s been a lifelong dream for him and Tessa to work with them someday. It isn’t that marriage is such a foreign or unwelcome concept to him, or even that it’s not something he’s open to right now. It’s just that marrying anyone who isn’t Tessa is unfathomable. Despite Kaitlyn, despite his genuine enjoyment of being close to his family and not having to wake up at 5 am every morning and getting to have beers with his childhood friends, the last two years have been some of the loneliest of his life. The only moments where he’s truly felt like himself have come when he was working with Tessa on show choreography or they were getting lunch after practice or they were laughing about nothing in particular. He misses Tessa. That is all there was to it, and however serious they might seem, he and Kaitlyn are not going to work out. There’s no correlation, he’s pretty sure.
Even though there are months to go before they have to start thinking about Stars on Ice choreography, Tessa texts him to invite him for coffee between Christmas and New Year’s. He responds in the affirmative almost instantly, wondering if she’s been the feeling the same way he has recently.
At first, it seems like she has been. She is there first, as usual, and stands to greet him with a hug. He holds her tightly for just longer than purely platonic friends should, but he has missed her so much in the last few weeks since he last saw her. He can’t hold her forever, which his talk with him mom made him realize he desperately wants to do, but he can hold her here and he will, at least until she gently shifts backwards, and he has to let go or look insane.
They sit, and he drinks in the sight of her, fresh-faced and seemingly at peace. He thinks he knows what she’s going to say—they’d both briefly discussed how adrift they felt about competitive skating and Tessa’s face said a lot more than that the last time it came up. vHe waits for her to start anyway, it’s her conversation, she gets to set the pace.
“I’ve really missed you, Scott.” She says with a great whoosh of air.
Missed him, not skating with him, him! “Missed you too, T.” He responds lightly, determined not to overwhelm her with his emotions. He still knows her, understands her in a way he doesn’t anyone else. Tessa usually comes around to his point of view, will say what she needs to say, but it’ll happen quicker when she is give space to think through it and can feel like she came to her own conclusion without pressure.
“I’ve enjoyed this last year,” she says quickly, like she’s trying to get it out before she loses her nerve, “but I miss competing and if you’re willing I think we should try for Korea. With different coaches and maybe a new mindset, we can do it.” She stops, looks him dead in the eye with an earnestness that takes his breath away. “I want to go for gold, with you. I want to skate with you again, Scott.”
He can’t help the grin that takes over his face. “I’m in.” He tells her and leaves it at that.
Of course, Tessa has never left anything at that, so she presses him. “Are you sure? Because I know you’ve been happy and coming back means moving, and a huge time commitment, and Kaitlyn might not be okay with it, and I know you were so excited to retire after Sochi…”
His hand shoots across the table to grip hers, silencing her. “Kiddo, I was so tired and sad after Sochi—I needed a break. But I’ve missed competing like crazy for at least the last year, and I’ve missed you for longer.”
“And Kaitlyn? She’ll be alright with this?” Tessa knows as well anybody that skating inevitably got in the way of his past relationships.
It wasn’t skating though, at least not on its own. Tessa got in the way, not by own fault but because Scott could never manage to put anyone else before her. She isn’t aware of this though, not yet, and now isn’t the time to tell her.
“Kaitlyn and I broke up. A couple days ago.” Scott admits, swallowing some guilt with the lump in his throat.
For a second, he thinks she looks relieved, which is the same expression she has always gotten when he’s told her things have ended with past girlfriends. She would feel terrible if she knew he could read that on her face, and it does make him feel a little terrible that he’s happy to still read that on her face. Before he can delve too deeply into analyzing Tessa’s face, a favorite hobby of his if he’s being honest, her brows are knitting together and she’s leaning forward.
“Scott, if we come back, try for the Olympics again, it’s going to be really hard. I don’t want you to say yes because you feel obligated or because you’re sad about a breakup, or any reason, really, other than because you want to skate again.”
There’s a flash of annoyance at her doubt—when will Tessa figure out how committed he is to her? And then he thinks that she’ll probably figure it out when he starts demonstrating his commitment to her. He knows she’s aware of his commitment to skating, at least before retirement. That if they skate together he will be present and will show up and will work hard and will never drop her during a lift. She needs to be shown that he’s committed to her off the ice too.
So instead of getting upset, he retakes her left hand, this time in both of his. “I want to skate with you again. I want to compete with you again. I want to win Olympic gold with you again. I’m in.” The other things he wants to do with her, that is, everything else, will have to wait to be listed out another time.
She smiles, tremulous and relieved and radiant. That alone makes it worth it, he thinks.
“Two years to train.” Scott says. “Think we can get in shape in time?”
“With a solid two-year plan, I think we can. We’ll need help though.”
As they talk about who to get help from, where to go for training (Canton is out for obvious reasons. Neither of them so much as suggest it.), Scott thinks he has his own two-year plan to put into place. Sooner or later, that long-held ring will see the light of day.
Tessa, thoughtful and obsessed with planning as she is, memorializes list of rules and regulations for the next two years. Some are suggested by the B2Ten nutritionists (“no drinking within twenty -our hours before training, at all, not even one beer, and be prudent even outside of twenty-four hours, Scott!”), and some come from their marriage counselor (“we have to talk to each other first about everything, no matter how small. Open communication, Scott!”). She adds in a few of her own (“it’s just easier if we live in the same apartment building and carpool to the rink. Of course, it isn’t so I can sleep in the car while you drive, Scott!”). He puts his own rules in there (“we take turns picking after-practice entertainment. This is not going to be two years of Audrey Hepburn, T.”). And he takes this opportunity to further his secret two-year plan. “I think we should make a no-distractions rule.”
She’s confused—the list of rules and hours dedicated to training, choreography, mental prep, physio, nutrition, and endless others seems to preclude distractions simply because when will they have time for distractions? “What kind of distractions?”
They’re sitting in the living room of her new apartment in Montreal. He lives a few floors above her in a space beautifully decorated to his tastes by his partner, but he already knows he’ll be spending most of his time here, in her apartment. It smells like her and radiates her warmth, and since she’ll be there, it’s his favorite place in the world.
“Other people kind of distractions.” He says seriously, turning on the couch to face her completely. “No dating, no hookups.”
This brings out an actual full on belly laugh—not her normal polite interview laughs, but the one that comes out when she is genuinely amused. He likes to think he hears it more than most people. “Sure, Scott. We’ll be at the rink twelve hours a day, so I’ll just use all that extra energy to stop myself from dating.” She continues to laugh.
“Hey.” He rubs his thumb against her jaw, presses against it to bring her face around to face him. “I mean it. This is about us. I want us both to be focused completely on each other. Just us.”
“That’s never been a problem for me.” She says starkly, a twist of bitterness to her lips. He rubs it away gently.
“I know. I just want you to know, it applies for me too. No distractions.”
“Just us.” She repeats, their eyes locked.
Scott knows in this moment she feels something too. The heat they have is undeniable—they’ve both failed to deny it several times in the past. He’s not going to give in this time though, not when there is so much more at stake. The Olympics, redemption, and her. Maybe it’s uncharitable to Tessa but he can’t help but feel that the success of his inevitable proposal is dependent on their success in Korea. Not that her love for him is in anyway dependent on how well they do. It’s just…it’s just she’s had enough disappointment and bitter defeat in her careers. Retirement this time is going to be the start of something new and beautiful, at least if he has anything to say about it. This start needs to be in the wake of victory. She deserves that, and he wants that for them both.
The next two years pass shockingly quick, even though they both make an effort to pause and savor every moment. Working with Marie-France and Patch is a breath of fresh air after years at Canton, and being treated like adults who are accomplished in their own right has allowed him and Tessa to reach new heights creatively.
They spend nearly all their time together. Scott holds true to his agreement to drive them to their early morning workouts, and Tessa never fails to supply the coffee. He keeps the radio low and makes sure her cup gets into the cup-holder before she inevitably drifts off on the way. They come home to Tessa’s apartment together and cook their pre-planned, B2Ten approved dinners together. After dinner, they settle in on her very comfy couch to watch Jeopardy. Her couch is much larger than his, and he accuses her once of using her carte blanche interior design authority to lure him to her apartment.
“Do I really need a couch to lure you over here?” She responds, equally teasingly, all batted eyes and coy smiles.
His heart catches in his throat because while they’ve regained almost all of their closeness and friendship, this is the first time she’s flirted back. It feels like a huge milestone and he can’t stop himself from grinning the rest of the night.
About six months out from Korea, the intensity kicks up. Not just on the ice, but off the ice too. As a rule, athletes never talk about what happens after the Olympics, not when it’s their last Olympics. They’ve adhered to that rule (ring remains buried in his drawer, unspoken but omnipresent) but there’s still an awareness that things are simultaneously ramping up and winding down. There’s more emotion, particularly when rehearsing the last part of their Moulin Rouge free dance and he can’t help but sing along to Come What May. It strikes too sometimes in the gym when he catches sight of her doing lunges out of the corner of his eye, hair sweaty and sticking to a glistening cheek; in their favorite coffee shop when they’re recognized by young fans, and she stoops to speak to little girls looking at her with the same adoration he feels; and most especially in her kitchen or on his (smaller) couch or dancing around one of their living rooms and he thinks she is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and there is nothing in this world he wants more than to have her like this, just them, for the rest of his life.
Their physicality off ice has kicked up too. They hold hands now constantly, their special grip with her pinky between his middle and index finger. It’s the most intimate thing he’s ever experienced and maybe he should feel guilty about that, but it’s Tessa, and everything with her is just more than anything with anyone else. If they aren’t holding hands, his arm is around her shoulder or waist, keeping her close by his side. Most of the time, she holds his waist too, though he’s long accepted the fact that she is more reserved in public than he is. Still, she rests her head on his shoulder when she’s tired on the rare occasions they go out, and she never seems uncomfortable when he reaches for her.
In their apartments, it feels as if they are forever intertwined. Some part of their bodies is always touching. A hand brushing a back or shoulder as one rises from the dinner table, from behind hugs as he stands at the counter chopping vegetables, her legs over his lap on the couch. It’s grounding, a way to check-in and to be ever present with each other.
It also reassures Scott. Being patient has never been his strong suit, and if he’s insecure about anything, it is and has always been Tessa’s off-ice feelings for him. He knows how brilliant she is, what a bright future she has, and there are times over these two years where he finds himself doubting whether she’ll want him in that future as anything more than an old friend and tour partner. There have been so many times where he’s let her down before, what if it was one time too many and her heart is now closed to him? These thoughts come almost exclusively at night, after they’ve said goodnight, when her reassuring presence and clear, steady gaze is not right next to him. It’s easier in the harsh light of day to trust his instincts—the ones that tell him she’s trusting him on a personal level she hasn’t in years, and that the love and lust he sees in her eyes mirror exactly his own. Tessa keeps things close to the chest, he’s always known this about her, and he appreciates how well their personalities complement each other’s. Still, sometimes he wishes she’d slip, just a little, the way he does when he casually refers to her apartment as home, or goes speechless and dark in the eyes when she wears a new dress, or murmurs things like “I’ll never let you go, T” into her ear as they’re coming out of a lift.
One night, she does slip. They’re watching Jeopardy, their new tradition, his arm heavy on her shoulders, and her tucked into his side. They like to compete by trying to yell out the answers before the contestants, though as the night wears on, the yells become drowsy responses.
One of the contestants mentions she and her husband go ballroom dancing every week, to keep active. Tessa says, “I’d like to keep dancing, no matter what.” She tilts her head so she’s looking up at him, a hint of a smile on her lips, a hint of fear in her eyes. “Will you go ballroom dancing with me when we’re forty, Scott?”
His voice is a little choked when he answers. “Of course, kiddo. And when we’re fifty, and sixty, and seventy, and eighty.”
Clearly his answer is to her satisfaction because her eyes soften and drift drowsily to half closed as she turns back to the screen. “We’ll ballroom dance until we’re eighty. And then we’ll come home and watch Jeopardy.”
He can’t help but press his lips to the top of her head, probably too hard and too long for it to be taken as a platonic, innocent gesture, but the emotions welling within him are too much to restrain. He knows Tessa, she doesn’t slip the same way he does. She was feeling him out about a future together, one where they are the best dancers on the floor until they can no longer move. That’s exactly the reassurance he was looking for.
The rest of the season flashes by in a golden haze that Scott thinks, in his poetic moments, is a foreshadow to the gold they will win in a few weeks. Tessa helps him pack, claiming she has time since she has been packed for days. He has no doubt it’s true. So, she packs, makes sure he has matching outfits and enough clean socks and underwear. It’s only after she reminds him that they have to be ready to leave for the airport at 7 am sharp and says goodnight that he opens his drawer, digs all the way to the back, and pulls out the ring box. He hasn’t opened the box in years, not since before Sochi probably, so he gives a relieved sigh when he sees it’s just as beautiful, just as Tessa-esque as he’d remembered. The sense that this ring was meant for her finger and that she was meant for him is even stronger now than it was on that October morning in 2010. He closes the box, clenches it in his fist for a moment as he says what may very well be a prayer, and then carefully tucks the box into a zippered compartment on his carryon.
If the weeks leading up to Korea sped by, the Olympics themselves are over in the space of a heartbeat, and suddenly he is standing on the podium, overcome with emotion as the Canadian national anthem plays, medal heavy around his neck, and Tessa softly wiping a tear off her beaming face right next to him. It is simultaneously everything he has ever dreamed and beyond his wildest imaginings, and he can’t stop touching his partner, kissing her, burying his face in her neck, holding her back, clutching her hand. He knows he’s left red marks across the pale skin exposed by her Moulin Rouge dress, and he wishes he could say he’s sorry. He isn’t. He is joyful and possessive and until he can get this ring on her finger, the marks on her skin will have to suffice.
There is so much media to do after the ceremony, and hordes of people who want to speak to them. They have no time for themselves until hours later, and the second he ushers her away from the party and into the room he shares with Chiddy (who has been banished upon the pain of death if he interrupts), he kisses her. Just steps forward into her personal space as if they’re on the ice, cradles her still smiling face in his hands, and presses his lips to hers. She responds instantly, pressing forward, and clutching his jacket in her hands. Her mouth is everything he remembers it was, and more. She tastes like victory and forever and this moment is the most perfect moment in a day full of, at minimum, excellent moments.
He reaches for her zipper as her hands travel up to tangle themselves in the hair at his nape. She is warm and pliant against him, and he wants to remember everything about this for the rest of his life.
As he pulls the zipper down, she makes a reluctant noise in the back of her throat, and he stills instantly. “T?” He gasps, pulling away just an inch. “You ok?”
“Is this…” Her eyes are screwed shut. “Is this just the adrenaline?”
Taking in a deep breath and trying to clear the euphoric fuzziness from his brain, Scott tugs her over to the bed until they can sit side by side. “I have been thinking about this moment since the moment you hugged me in that café in 2015. There’s a ton of adrenaline, kiddo, but it doesn’t change the fact that I love you. That I’m in love with you.”
He can hear her quick intake of breath, and relishes in the way her eyes go a little bit wide. “You’re in love with me?” She asks, sounding as if she can’t believe it, which is unfathomable to the man who has spent the last two years trying to convince her it was true.
“Yeah, I’m in love with you. I have been for years. I want to move in with you, and wake up to you every morning, and marry you, and have kids with you. I want to ballroom dance with you and be better than Jeopardy contestants with you for the rest of my life.”
For the umpteenth time that day, her eyes well with tears as she laughs in disbelief. He thinks to himself that she will probably be exhausted from all the emotion of today, so while he’d love to finally consummate their relationship, they might need to put that on hold until she gets a good eight hours.
He knows that she’s going to reciprocate his feelings, but her pause for absorption is a hair too long for his liking so he prods a little. “Tess? Anything you want to say back?”
She fixes her sparkling green eyes on him, and finally tells him what he’s been waiting for so long: “I’m in love with you too, Scott.”
And it turns out she’s not too tired for consummation after all.
The next morning, he is shocked to find she is the first awake.
“Good morning” She murmurs, face very close to his. He leans up for a kiss, and can’t help but deepen it, one hand tangling itself in her hair.
“The best morning,” he responds, with no small amount of self-satisfaction.
“Were you serious last night? Not about being in love with me.” She says quickly, cutting off his confused protest. “But about, about wanting to marry me? Like five years in the future? Or just maybe at some point?”
He laughs a little, tugging her down until she’s laying on his chest. “I’d marry you tomorrow. I would have married you a year ago. As soon as you’re ready, T.”
Her lips press against his bare chest. “Maybe not tomorrow—I think we need to be in Canada for our marriage to be legal. But maybe some time when things have calmed down, we can go find a ring.”
“I have a ring!” Scott isn’t sure if she’s more surprised by his excited outburst, or by the way he dislodged her from her comfortable position by sitting up and leaping out of the bed. Either way, she is staring at his naked form as he rummages through his luggage with some measure of appreciation but also a lot of confusion.
“What do you mean…you have a ring?” Tessa asks, and as he searches through pockets he regrets getting up for a second because there are very few things on this earth that could make not holding her right now worth it. But this is worth it.
He brings the box over to where she is sitting on the bed, knees at the side of it. With a flourish, Scott snaps open the box, and holds it up to her. “You already agreed to marry me, but for formality’s sake, will you, Tessa Virtue, partner of twenty years, five-time Olympic gold medalist, clearly my better half, marry me and be my partner for the rest of our lives?”
“Why can’t I stop crying?” She huffs, brushing away tears. “But yes, of course I will marry you. When did you have time to get this? We’ve spent every waking moment together these last two years.”
He concentrates on slipping the ring onto her finger, mostly so he can avoid having to meet her eyes as he admits, “I bought it during your second surgery. I took a walk when you were being operated on, and saw it, and” he shrugs, “I knew it had to be yours.”
“That was more than seven years ago.” She reminds him, mouth gaping. “Before Sochi.”
There are no options in this moment but to kiss her, and he does so, one hand holding her left so he can feel the cold metal against his skin, the other gently pushing her down so he can lay above his fiancée.
“I know how long ago it was. I knew then, kiddo, I’ve always known.”
This was every bit the end and beginning they both deserved