"Wow," Kim said as they looked around the sitting room Boris had deposited them in upon their arrival muttering something unintelligible as he left.
"Yeah," Mark said, scanning the room, hands in his pockets as if he was afraid he'd break something if he touched the obvious expensive décor. "Did you know Sasha came from money?" he asked, quietly.
"Payson says his mother was 'old money,'" Becca said, leaning over into an ancient looking Grecian urn. "Whatever that means," she said as Kim grasped her by the shoulders and led her away from a disaster waiting to happen.
"How about we just sit here until Boris comes back?" Kim suggested, directing Becca towards the sofa, looking at Mark over her head who just raised his eyebrows.
"So much for thinking he was after Payson for her money," he mumbled under his breath, but Kim heard him loud and clear and rolled her eyes.
"Oh, there you are. Mr. Beloff said he put you in the big parlour," a red cheeked, older woman said as she pushed into the room, balancing a tray with a few cakes, a pot of tea and three teacups atop saucers. "I'm Mrs. Peters, the housekeeper and you must be the Keelers. I met your eldest just this morning, but Mr. Beloff says they're on their way back now. I suppose after all that fuss in the papers and on television this is the best place to be. Can I get you all anything else?" she asked, barely taking a breath, having set down their cups and poured the tea without missing a beat.
Kim stared at the woman, open mouthed and then shook her head, "No, thank you. You met Payson earlier today?" she asked, Mrs. Peters' words finally sinking in. Payson and Sasha had spent the night here? Weren't they supposed to be at the Olympic Village? She made eye contact with Mark across the room, the thought obviously having occurred to him as well as his mouth was set in a thin line and his arms were drawn across his chest. It was one thing to know intellectually that their daughter was engaged in an intimate relationship. It was another for it to be thrown in their faces in casual conversation.
"Yes, but they wouldn't hear of me cooking up a full breakfast, just a few things for the car trip back to London. You see Alexander hadn't told me they would be here last night and I'd gone home for the evening before they arrived and was quite shocked to find them here this morning, but he was always that way even as a young man, flitting to and fro without any notice. Drove his mother mad. I was just the cook back then, but after Mrs. Beloff died and then our old housekeeper Mrs. Raymond passed on just a few years ago, Alexander gave me the post of keeping the house tidy and doing a bit of cooking if he required it, though he's very rarely at home as I'm sure you know. He's been living in America these last years with his coaching. Anyway, your tea is getting cold, drink up. I'll see to your rooms."
Then just as quickly as she arrived she was gone.
"What just happened?" Becca asked from her seat on the sofa.
Kim shook her head, "I have no idea," she said, sitting down in one of the chairs and taking one of the cups of tea. She was rapidly developing a headache and the whirlwind of the last few hours combined with the idea of what Payson must be going through right now was just too much. She looked up at Mark, "What if they suspend her? What if all this work, everything she's sacrificed, everything our entire family has sacrificed has all been for nothing."
"They're not going to suspend her. They might suspend him," he said, "and they'd be right to do so."
"I thought you guys were okay with Payson and Sasha being together?" Becca asked, holding of the little cakes close to her mouth, obviously about to take a bite.
"We are," Kim said quickly, "mostly," she added nodding at Mark, "but there's still an ethical line that Sasha crossed, between an athlete and a coach or at least the committee members might see it that way."
Boris stepped into the room, "Where is that Peters woman? She only brought three cups," he grumbled moving towards the coffee table and helping himself to some cake. "Sasha and Payson should be here soon," he said, swallowing thickly.
Just as the words fell off his tongue, along with several crumbs, they heard a car pull up in front of the house and the opening and closing of several doors.
"There they are," Boris said, standing, brushing the crumbs off his chest onto the floor and exiting the room. Kim stood there for a moment looking back and forth between Becca and Mark before she followed him.
As she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Payson immediately, "Mom," she said, a bright smile blooming across her face, as she stepped towards her. They hugged. "How was your trip? Aside from the mess on this end, I mean," she asked, pulling back.
"Fine just fine," Kim said, "You didn't have to buy first class tickets for us, Pay."
Her daughter just smiled and shrugged, "Nothing but the best for the Keeler family," she said.
"Apparently," Mark's voice echoed from behind them and Payson's smile changed, softened, "Hey Dad," she said, stepping around Kim and embracing her father tightly.
Kim smiled and nodded at Sasha quickly as he placed their bags against the wall.
"Kim, Mark," he said with a nod. "Becca. Glad to see my dad got you all here in one piece. We drove past your hotel on the way here and it was an absolute circus."
"Yes, yes," Boris said, "I must go now. The team must workout. You will do the same here. The house has excellent facilities and you will both return to the Olympic Village tomorrow." His instructions were matter of fact as he nodded to the Keelers and was gone.
"How did the meeting with the NGO and USOC go?" Kim asked as they all moved back into the parlour. She watched as Sasha's hand went to the small of Payson's back, leading her towards the love seat. They sat together, instinctively leaning towards each other.
"Well enough. We told them the truth," Payson said. "It was the only way we could think of to ensure that they didn't turn this into a week long investigation. We aren't doing anything wrong and we let them know it."
Sasha nodded, "Beals was hoping we'd deny it, but we didn't let it get that far. We left before they came to a decision, but I think it'll be fine."
Kim bit her lip and looked around the room and then to Mark who was seated next to her. He was looking at the coffee table, studying it too intently to actually be looking at it. She looked to Payson whose expression was almost a mirror of hers. "Mom, why don't you and Becca help me take these things in to the kitchen?" she suggested and Kim nodded, immediately believing it to be a good idea. Mark and Sasha obviously needed to hash some things out.
They gathered everything and made their way towards the kitchen.
"Where's the housekeeper, Mrs. Peters?" Becca asked as Payson began to rinse out the tea cups.
"She's semi-retired. She just comes and tidies up every once in a while and when we decided to send you guys here Sasha called her and asked her if she could have some tea ready for you all and to make up the guest rooms. You should be able to go to the hotel tomorrow. They'll be able to get you in a back entrance if the paparazzi are still camped out."
Kim nodded, marveling at her daughter's composure, wondering if she was putting up a good front or if she simply was this strong. She looked over at Becca who was sitting on a stool at the kitchen's island counter, leaning against her elbow practically asleep.
"Becca, why don't you go upstairs and take a nap. The time change must be getting to you," Kim said, patting her younger daughter on the back lightly.
"You're up the stairs, third door on the right," Payson said as Becca nodded sleepily and wandered out of the kitchen.
Finally, they were alone. Kim sighed and turned to Payson who was drying off the tea set and replacing it in the cabinet. She could practically feel the tension suddenly radiating off her daughter, she see it in the set of her shoulders as she leaned against the counter. Then Payson turned and sighed deeply.
"Go ahead, Mom. Let me have it."
Kim shook her head and leaned back against the island. "I'm not going to yell, Payson. How are you holding up though? You had to be terrified when you saw that newspaper."
"I was," she admitted, her hand going to fiddle with a chain tucked into her t-shirt, "but then we figured out what was going on and we dealt with it. The meeting went well and MJ is on her way. She's going to set up an interview with Meredith Hanover from ESPN so we can tell our side of the story."
Kim raised her eyebrows, "How's MJ handling it? She and Sasha were…" she trailed off, having never really considered the idea that her daughter's boyfriend was also her agent's ex. It was rather awkward now that she thought about it.
Payson rolled her eyes, "Ancient history, Mom. MJ's a professional."
Kim nodded and then suddenly she couldn't hold back anymore. "I just…I just have to ask, Payson. How did you let this happen? You've both been so careful for so long. What happened?"
Sasha sighed, standing from his seat on the love seat and moving towards the server by the window, pouring himself a drink and looking towards Mark, wordlessly asking if he'd like one. Mark nodded and he poured two tumblers of scotch, "Ice?"
"No," Mark said and accepted his drink a second later. "So what happened, Sasha?" Payson's father asked again, repeating his words from seconds earlier. "How did you two go from hiding this from everyone for two years to blowing your own cover just days before the Olympics?"
Sasha took a sip and let the liquid burn down his throat. It was a fair question, more than fair and as Payson's father, Mark had every right to ask it. "We got careless," he said, "I got careless really. It's my fault." Too true, Beloff. You could have walked away after getting rid of that scumbag and you got yourself buzzed and you didn't care who saw you in the lobby that night. You're the one who did this and you have to be the one to fix it.
Mark nodded, taking a sip of his drink, "And you think the members of the NGO and USOC will leave it alone? You don't think they'll suspend you or Payson?"
Sasha sat back, "Payson, definitely not. She's their golden hope. As far as me, I don't think so. We did a lot of damage control this morning. You should have seen her, you would have been proud the way she took control of that room. She had them eating out of her hand and then she squashed Beals under her shoe like a bug. It was a thing of beauty." He smiled thinking of the expression on Beals' face as Payson had verbally destroyed her.
Mark cleared his throat, shaking Sasha from his thoughts. He grimaced guiltily and avoided eye contact, but was saved from the awkwardness as Payson and Kim came back into the room, minus Becca.
"Becca went upstairs to bed and I think I'm headed in that direction as well," Kim said and Mark nodded, standing.
"I'm beat too. Didn't get much sleep on the flight over," he said, a yawn suddenly overtaking his countenance.
Sasha stood as well and made towards the door. "You'll be in the guest suite," he said, "I'll show you."
He settled the Keelers in their room and made his way back downstairs to find Payson sitting on the love seat in the parlor staring into space.
"MJ wants to set up an interview with Meredith Hanover from ESPN," she said as he sat next to her.
He shifted closer to her and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his body. She rested her head against his chest and sighed. "You said earlier," he reminded her.
"She also mentioned having you do the interview with me if I wanted. I think I do want that," she said, pulling away just slightly, looking up at him. "We're so much stronger together than we are apart. If we're going to put this out there for public consumption I want the world to understand that. I want everyone to know just how much we love each other."
"Even if it wasn't any of their business to begin with?" Sasha asked, frowning, mostly at himself. "I never did apologize, love, for doing this to us."
"Sasha, this isn't anyone's fault except Ellen Beals. Maybe we got a little careless, but as Austin likes to say, anyone looking twice at us could see how we feel about each other. It's a part of who we are, Sasha." She took his face in her hands and his eyes flickered closed at her touch. "Beals should be the one apologizing, not you," she said, brushing a soft kiss against his lips.
He laughed, despite himself. "Ellen Beals apologizing, that'll be the day," he said, opening his eyes and meeting her gaze.
"We'll just have to content ourselves with rubbing my gold medals in her face after I win next week," she said, nuzzling her nose against his whiskered cheek, pressing a kiss against his jawline, then the corner of his lips. He turned fully to meet her mouth, immediately burying his hand in her hair, holding her to him, as their open mouths met in a slow, hot kiss, sending small sparks of pleasure through his entire body.
"I have to go work out," she said, pulling away just slightly, her breath a soft echo of her lips against his. "Can't forget why we're here, after all."
"Go," he said, pulling back as she stood. He let her go, but not before giving her backside a light smack on her way past him.
She squeaked, feigning protest, smiling back at him as she left the room, rubbing the afflicted area gently.
Sasha stood and followed her out of the room, but headed for the office as she continued down the main hallway towards the gym his mother had put in when he moved back to England to begin seriously training for Sydney.
Once inside he turned on the computer at the desk and flicked on the television before flicking through the channels quickly looking for anything that might be talking about the Olympics, of which he and Payson were sure to get a mention.
He found it quickly enough, an older male newscaster standing in front of one of the Olympic gardens was in the middle of his report, "…and thus far we haven't received any comment on the photographs that were in this morning's issue of The Star, but we expect the USOC to be holding a press conference later today and I'm sure they'll address the issue one way or another. Now as to public opinion, well we hit the street to find out what people think about America's Sweetheart, Payson Keeler and Britain's notorious Olympic Bad Boy, Sasha Beloff, who also happens to be her coach."
"He's hot. They look good together," said a young woman in her mid-twenties dressed in casual clothes.
A tall man in a business suit shrugged, "Not really any of our business is it?"
"How old is she?" an older woman asked the reporter, who told her Payson's age and added his as well, "Well, that's not so bad I suppose, but he is her coach, isn't he?" She shrugged, "I don't rightly know, I guess s'alright as long as he treats her good."
The reporter's voice echoed again, "Then we ran into some gymnastics fans…"
"Does this mean Austin Tucker's single?" a girl who looked about the same age as Payson, "If so, then I'm all for it."
"I think it's sweet," another girl said, "look at them," she said, holding up the paper, "they look so in love."
"Urg," one of her friends said with an eye roll, "it's so gross, he's like ten years older than her, ain't he?"
The shot cut back to the reporter, "So it's a mixed bag. We expect a press conference from the USOC later today. As far as the love birds themselves go, no one has seen hide or hair of either of them since the story broke, but I expect that won't last long."
The newscast cut to commercial and Sasha muted the television and sat back in the leather desk chair that had once belonged to his grandfather and then his father. He ran his hands along the arms of the chair, remembering coming in this room as a child, climbing onto his father's lap as he was working. He'd forgotten how much he loved this house, how much he loved England really. It was, after all, the last real home that he could remember, before his life turned into such a nomadic mess.
Sasha didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, letting his mind wander over his childhood, good memories and bad. The few happy years he'd spent in ignorant bliss of his parents' extraordinarily dysfunctional marriage followed by the miserable early adolescence of his parents' divorce and then once his gymnastics career began to blossom, choosing to compete for England, his estrangement from his father and brief reconciliation followed by a total dissolution of their relationship, his mother's death. Just as his mind wandered morbidly in that direction, the door clicked open and Payson slipped inside.
He took her in, freshly showered and changed into what appeared to be his clothes, a Liverpool FC tshirt and a pair of his pajama pants rolled to sit low on her waist.
"Hey," she said approaching slowly, "there you are. Thought I'd lost you inside this place."
He smiled at her, but he knew she'd be able to see right through it. "What's the matter?" she asked, as she moved next to him and ran her hand lightly through his hair. His eyes slid shut as he leaned into her touch.
"Nothing's the matter, just thinking," he said, inhaling her scent as she moved even closer, sliding into his lap, winding her arms around his torso, her smaller frame wrapping easily around his. He leaned back into the chair as she rested her head against his chest.
"Thinking about what?"
"New York," he said, and she pulled back to look at him. "I know you said you wanted a fresh start, love, but I was thinking…."
"You want to live here instead," she finished for him, smiling softly.
His brow furrowed, "How did you…"
"I think you forget sometimes just how well I know you, Sasha," she murmured close to his ear. "The look on your face when we pulled up in front of his house, it was unmistakable. This is your home." She reached into the neckline of the shirt, pulling out the long gold chain that held the ring he'd given her the night before, holding it in the palm of her hand.
He nodded, unsure how he managed to get so lucky. His hands went to the clasp of the necklace and removed it, sliding the ring off the chain. He slid the ring onto her finger and then nodded. "And you'd move here, to England? What about Columbia?" He wanted to live here, but not at the expense of her dreams.
She shrugged, "I applied to Kings College in London as well if you remember, it's close enough to commute and if this is where you want to be Sasha, then it's where I want to be."
He kissed her, taking her completely by surprise, but just seconds past until she caught up, pressing closer to him, kissing him back with equal fervor as he stood from the chair and lifted her to sit upon the desk. Just as she began to lean back against the desk, the phone on the desk rang insistently. He pulled back breathing harshly. He had to answer it, they were expecting a phone call from his father.
"Hello?" he asked, though the phone pressed against his ear didn't stop her from sitting up and running her tongue along the shell of his other ear. A shudder ran through his entire body as he heard his father bark at him through the line.
"Sasha, I have just come from meeting with the committee," Boris said, his tone letting Sasha know exactly what he thought of the bureaucracy they had to deal with in American gymnastics. "They have decided not to investigate after I…what is the word…corroborated what you told them this morning."
"That's great, Dad," he said, as Payson's mouth moved from his ear to his neck, biting down lightly before soothing the sting with her lips. He coughed roughly and pulled back, glaring at her, but she just grinned wickedly. "I'll see you tomorrow morning." The other end of the line went dead and Sasha hung up the phone.
"You heard?" he asked.
She nodded, her smile growing. "We did it." She pressed her heel into the small of his back, drawing him closer again.
His hands drifted to her hips, pulling their lower bodies into sharp contact, "Hmm, haven't done anything yet," he murmured softly, his hands creeping beneath her t-shirt, "I recall you once saying something about wanting to be bent over a desk," he whispered into her ear, "this one is pretty sturdy, I think…"
Her only answer was to turn her face towards his and kiss him deeply as all coherent thought was driven out of Sasha's head, there was only her and him and the desk, ingeniously crafted almost a hundred years ago at the perfect height for his intended activities.
Kim Keeler couldn't sleep. It was perhaps due to the time change or the unfamiliar bed or the insanity of the last twelve hours, but she was awake and since she was a child, the only thing that would ensure a few hours of sleep was a glass of warm milk.
She crept slowly from the bed, careful not to wake Mark, though there was little chance of that. He was dead to the world, snoring softly, his breathing deep and even. She moved slowly down the hallway, tightening the belt of her robe as she descended the stairs towards the kitchen. She saw a muted light shining through the open entryway and paused.
A soft giggle made her eyebrows rise as she peaked around the corner and saw Payson sitting atop the island in the center of the room, Sasha leaning against the counter just across from her. She took them in and saw it was obvious what they'd been up to. Payson was only wearing a t-shirt, Sasha only pajama pants, their hair was in disarray, a becoming flush still gracing Payson's cheeks. Sasha's smile was almost self congratulatory as he stepped closer and handed Payson the glass of water. His hands immediately fell to her thighs, stroking the skin there softly as he stood between her legs.
Kim wasn't particularly shocked by their appearance. She'd been married for over twenty years after all and Payson and Sasha were young, attractive and completely in love. What did shock her however was the soft reflection of light coming from the fourth finger on Payson's left hand as she took a sip of the water. She watched her daughter set the glass of water on the counter next to her and press her palm against Sasha's cheek, the reflection of light suddenly clearing to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring, one that hadn't been there earlier.
She leaned further back into the shadows as Sasha turned his head and placed a kiss on the inside of her palm, perhaps against the ring itself. "I love you," he whispered, though in the dark it rang out loud and clear.
"I love you too. Inimia mea esta a ta," Payson said, though Kim had no idea what the last part meant, Sasha seemed to, as he leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. They just stood there, breathing each other in and Kim suddenly felt like she was intruding on an extremely intimate moment, that she shouldn't be watching this.
She moved away from the door and back upstairs. Warm milk or not, she would never be able to sleep now. Sasha had asked Payson to marry him and she'd obviously said yes. Her daughter was engaged, but more than that, for the first time, she fully understood exactly how they felt about each other and finally, despite everything, the lies and the line Sasha and Payson had crossed between athlete and coach, Kim was completely and utterly happy for them.