Page 33 of Your Sharpest Edge
I chuckled, tugging at one of the shirt’s holes. “Trust me, this will be seen as a masterpiece sooner than you think.”
Our food arrived, and I eagerly reached for my fork, only to notice Anastasia’s sudden change in demeanor. She glanced down at her plate and then back up at me.
“Sorry, excuse me,” she uttered hastily, excusing herself and hurrying in the direction of the restroom sign.
After waiting for a few minutes, it struck me that something wasn’t right. I got up from my seat, giving the waitress a small nod.
“I’ll be right back.” I gestured toward our table, making sure she didn’t remove the food, and then walked down the small dimly lit hall where the one-stall bathroom was.
Knocking gently on the door, I called out, “Anastasia?” There was no response. Adopting what was now known as an Anastasia move, I pressed my ear against the door. Faint sniffles came from inside.
Stepping back, I confirmed there was only one restroom before knocking again, more insistently this time. “Anastasia?” As soon as my hand fell to my side, retching sounds echoed from the other side of the door.
“Are you okay?” I asked louder.
My heart rate spiked. Something was definitely wrong, and Anastasia was sick.
The toilet flushed.
“I’m going to break down this fucking door if you don’t answer me,” I declared, my tone leaving no room for argument.
With a click, the handle turned, and I burst into the restroom, scanning the scene before me. Anastasia was huddled on the public bathroom tile, trying to reach for the towels above her.
Tears streaked her face as I dropped to the floor. She shook her head. “Need paper towel. My face.” Her voice was hoarse from puking.
I grabbed a towel, wetting it slightly before sitting on my haunches to face her. “Have you been feeling sick all night?” I asked.
She was fine all day, mostly focusing on crafting the shirt that I was wearing.
“I-I think I need to go home,” she whispered.
I scanned her up and down, searching for injuries. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head. “I want to go back home,” she repeated.
I nodded, unable to formulate words. I needed to get us out of here and bring her somewhere safe and comfortable because letting her unfurl in the bathroom of a public restroom was not the place for this to happen—whatever this was.
“Okay,” I said. “Let me go get our food bagged up.”
I reached down to help her up. For a moment, we both hesitated, staring at my gesture—an outstretched arm waiting for her to take it. I desperately wanted her to take it.
I’d never felt this deeply about anyone, and aside from my teammates, I usually kept my interactions minimal. The ache in my chest was overwhelming, and the urge to protect her was intense; I just wanted to make things easier for her.
The moment her fingers touched mine, relief washed over me. I helped her up, and after she washed her hands, she walked out of the restaurant while I grabbed our food.
Once outside, I saw her with her back pressed to the restaurant door, her long blonde hair in a bun on top of her head, her lips swollen from being sick earlier. I saw her for so much more, too. I saw her as the woman whose lip curled up as she concentrated on the shirt she worked on all afternoon. I saw the person who stood outside my door every night, hesitatingwith whether or not she should come in. For a moment, I wondered if she saw me. Did she see the man who would give her anything?
Even though the world thought we’d somehow be better as friends, I’d take her in any capacity.
“Are you feeling better?” I asked.
She nodded. “A little. The cool air is helping.” Anastasia looked down. “I’m so sorry I ruined your evening. You shouldn’t be out with me.”
My brows furrowed, and then I reached out, touching her chin and lifting it so her eyes met mine. This was the most physical touch we’d had since we met, and for a moment, the way she gazed up at me, laden with hesitation, I thought she was going to pull away, somehow tell me everything I was feeling right now was crazy.
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I replied honestly. “I want to make sure you feel better. Let’s go back home.”
“Thank you.”
