Page 46 of Your Sharpest Edge
He grabbed my elbow and brought his calloused thumb to my chin, forcing me to look into his deep green orbs. “That’s not what I meant. Where would you do it if you were at home? Where are you comfortable?”
“Uh, I guess I would do it in my bed.”
He then grabbed my hand and guided me to the back of the apartment.
I’d never been here because this was always part of the boundary we never dared to cross. But as he led me down the long hallway, baby in my arms, he pushed open the door to his bedroom. It matched the warmth of the main room. There was a large wooden bed in the center of the room, the bed was unmade, and a few of his clothes were strewn about the floors.
“I wasn’t expecting—” He paused as he picked up his clothes and threw them in a black hamper in the corner. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I smiled. “Do you think it would be okay if I borrowed one of those shirts too?” I asked, motioning to one in the hamper. It was big enough to give me a little privacy as I nursed Damien.
“Yes, yes. Of course.” He grabbed the shirt and then gestured to his bed. “Sit.”
I situated myself so I was propped against the headboard, and I used a few of his extra pillows and his extra shirt to cover up while nursing Damien. Alex never left the room, only turning when I was trying to get Damien to latch.
“Can I sit next to you?” he asked, and I nodded.
We sat there while I nursed Damien in comfortable silence. I glanced over, and Alex was leaning back on the woodenheadboard, resting his head up and looking aimlessly at the ceiling.
“I’m sorry I came here,” I whispered, breaking the silence. “It feels like everything is falling apart at home. My mom is in town. Damien just came home from the hospital.” My voice faltered as I added, “Dimitri has all but left us.”
“I feel like a broken record, but I can help.” Alex flexed his jaw as his eyes looked into mine, and for a moment, I let myself drink him in. It could’ve been the hormones or because I had missed him so much, but he was so perfect and beautiful.
I was lactating with a newborn baby, sitting in his bedroom, and he didn’t bat an eye or tell me to go away. In fact, he held the door open and let me in. I held my eyes shut and felt the tears form.
“I know. He wants to make things better. He told my mom that he’s going to let us come to your games and even wants to bring me alone to reconnect.” The second part was a lie. I had no idea why he wanted me to travel with him alone. He could ask the other woman.
“Are you holding on to hope?” Alex asked, his tone filled with genuine curiosity, not malice.
I nodded. “I’ve lost everything, including skating. I lost my job teaching kids to skate, and now, without childcare, I can’t go back.”
“I’ll watch him,” Alex said, leaning over to gently run his fingers along Damien’s head. “Hell, if it means strapping him to myself in that contraption you came in with and sitting at the ice rink to watch you, I’ll do it.”
I chuckled and shook my head. “No. You have better things to do. You have to live your life too.”
He shifted so he was sitting more on his hip, facing me. “I have to live my life with you in it, Anastasia.” Then he looked down at my little baby, who had popped off the breast. I wasgrateful Alex’s shirt covered the not-so-cute oversized areola, trying to maintain some semblance of attractiveness in my own head. “Now you come as a two pack.”
“Nothing is good in twos.”
Alex’s mouth dropped, and his eyes widened. “What are you talking about? All the greatest snacks come in twos. Two Oreos, two Reese’s, two Twix bars...”
I laughed so hard that the baby started to fuss in my arms. I tucked my shirt back up to cover myself. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”
He reached out toward Damien’s head. “Can I hold him?” he asked so softly that I thought I misheard him at first.
“You want to hold Damien?” I asked, surprised, and Alex nodded.
“Oh, yeah. Of course.”
I gently handed him the baby, and he cradled Damien in the crook of his arm like a football.
“It was an indescribable experience, seeing him born,” he said, looking down at the small baby before shifting closer to me.
If someone were looking into this apartment from the outside, not that anyone could, we would look like the picture of a family. A doting dad, a mother, and a sleeping baby. But we weren’t that. The warmth of this moment was a fragile illusion, a fleeting escape from the harsh reality that surrounded us.
“I’m really sorry I didn’t come back after I had him. I don’t deserve you,” I said, my need to apologize overwhelming me. The words felt heavy, weighed down by the regret and sorrow I carried.
“And I’m really sorry I didn’t come around when you were pregnant as much. I don’t deserve you.” He repeated my words.
