Except Richard remained near the mat.
Alone.
I started to leave.
“Victoria.”
I stopped.
Richard approached.
Up close, he looked older than I had realized.
He was probably in his late fifties, with carefully trimmed gray hair and the kind of suit that seemed designed never to wrinkle.
“I owe you an apology.”
I hadn’t expected that.
“For what?”
“For encouraging this.”
“You didn’t exactly encourage it.”
“I didn’t stop it.”
“Neither did I.”
“That’s different.”
“Is it?”
He looked toward the parking lot.
“Ethan has always been competitive.”
“So have I.”
Richard smiled faintly.
“You hide it better.”
“That took practice.”
He put his hands in his pockets.
“I’m glad you didn’t embarrass him.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I made him tap in front of half the neighborhood.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
I understood.
I had released the hold immediately.
No celebration.
No joke at his expense.
No lecture.
No victory lap.
“He’s skilled,” I said.
Richard nodded.
“He’s been training since college.”
“He told me.”
“He probably also told you he intends to make it his life.”
“No.”
That answer surprised Richard.
“He wants to open his own academy.”
