Page 52 of One Last Shot

“Because it’ll be fun for her. Something special that she hasn’t done before.” I wait and he doesn’t say anything. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m ... kind of speechless.”

“Because ...?”

“I just figured you’d be dying to get out of here, to hang out with other adults. You know, have some distance.”

“Stella’s great, why would I want distance?” I say. He gives me a half smile; we’re in agreement that his niece is wonderful. “And I only have another week with her. Plenty of time for adult stuff once I’m back home.”

Just then, Stella comes bounding into the kitchen. “Here you go,” she says, handing me my phone. Then she lets out a big sigh and collapses into her chair like she’s just run a marathon.

“Thanks, sweetie.” I look at Sasha for confirmation that he’s okay with me asking her and he gives me a curt nod, then takes his napkin off his lap, crushes it in his fist, and drops it on his plate.Wait, is he upset about me taking Stella out?

As Stella picks up her fork and stabs a piece of her pancake, I pretend like I’m scratching the side of my face, so my hand blocks my mouth from her view.What’s wrong?I mouth.

His voice booms in the silent kitchen when he replies, “Don’t you have a question you want to ask Stella?” I guess he’s ignoring my question and the secrecy with which I asked it.

Her head snaps toward me, her eyes huge like she just knows something really important is going to happen. I hope she’s not expecting something more exciting.

“I was thinking that maybe you’d like to come with me this afternoon and get your hair done too?”

“Yes,” she squeals as she jumps out of her chair and climbs into my lap, wrapping her arms around me once again. And I can’t help but wonder why those small arms squeezing my neck don’t feel as claustrophobic as I always imagined they would.

* * *

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Emily hisses, and I follow her gaze out the glass door. “How in the world are you living with that man and not sleeping with him?”

Outside the restaurant, Sasha stands with his hips resting against a concrete planter so large it holds a full-size tree. He’s got one foot crossed over the other in a deceptively casual stance, his chin tilted down toward Stella as he listens to something she’s saying. His aviators and baseball cap hide most of his face, and his hoodie hides the bulky muscles of his upper body and neck, but I can tell by the rigid lines of his shoulders that he’s not relaxed. He’s large and imposing, and pretty recognizable even though he’s trying not to be. He seems on edge about it.

I glance around the entryway of the restaurant to make sure no one else is close enough to hear our conversation. “Emily, he’s my oldest friend. It would be like sleeping with my brother.” I wish I believed that.

She gives me the side-eye. “You’re trying to tell me you’re not attracted to him?” she asks as she slips her arms into her lightweight jacket and grabs her sunglasses from her bag. I glance out the window again, taking in the pale blue sky strewn with clouds. It’s warm again today, the typical fluctuations of an East Coast spring.

I want to talk to her about our history, about how I’m feeling about him, about the sexual tension that’s so thick you could carve it with a knife and serve it up on a plate. I want to tell her we’re actually married, on paper only, and about adopting Stella and how conflicted I am. But I haven’t told her anything more than I’m living with them for a couple weeks and helping out with Stella—and even that I swore her to secrecy about—because talking about the rest of it would make it all too real.

“I’m saying that we’re friends, and that’s all,” I tell her.

Just then, he glances up at the restaurant doors. I can tell he sees us standing on the other side of the glass by the way he freezes, his mouth slightly open but unmoving. “Uh huh,” Emily laughs. “Sure.”

To escape this line of conversation, I push the door open and take a step out, holding it for her as she follows behind me. Behind his sunglasses I can tell Sasha still hasn’t taken his eyes off me when we arrive in front of him and Stella, and the intensity of his focus is doing funny things to me. My legs feel shaky even as my thighs clench with longing, my stomach feels like it’s dissolved into a million pieces that are floating off into space, and my heart is beating erratically.After all this time and everything that’s happened, how does he still have this effect on me?

“Good lunch?” he asks when I fail to greet him.

I blink, pulling myself out of my stupor. “Great lunch. Emily, this is Aleksandr. Aleksandr, my friend Emily.” There’s no question they each know who the other is.

“Nice to finally meet you,” Emily says as she extends her hand to shake his. “I feel like I’ve heard a lot about you.”

With his free hand, he takes his sunglasses off and casually tucks them into the neck of his hoodie. “All good things, I hope.”

“Depends on who’s talking about you,” Emily teases with a knowing smile. “But yes, only good things from Petra.”

“That’s all that matters, then,” he says. His eyes flicker to mine, and I swear my insides melt. They’re a big pile of goo trying to find their way out of my body.This man.Half the time I’m not sure if I love him or hate him, but there’s no question he still does things to me that no one else can.

“And who is this cutie?” Emily asks as she glances down at Stella.

“I’m Stella,” she says at the same time I say, “This is Aleksandr’s niece.”

“Well, it is very nice to meet you, Stella,” Emily says. “Are you going to get your hair done too?” She asks like she doesn’t already know they’re here because I’m taking Stella with me.

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