Page 70 of Your Sharpest Edge
Dirks nodded, and Alex and I stepped aside, giving us some space from the rest of the group. For a moment, neither of us said anything, the silence heavy with unspoken words.
“I’m sorry,” I began, my voice quiet. “For everything. For pushing you away, for not giving you a chance to understand.”
He lifted his hand. “This...” He looked around. “It isn’t the place. I have so much to say?—”
“Me too.” I interrupted him.
“Come to dinner...?” He wasn’t just asking, he was close to begging.
“I don’t know.” I looked down, wringing my hands. “I worked so hard to avoid you, Alex. I worked so hard to keep you out of my life. If you cross the line and enter my life, I’m scared I’ll bring you down with me again.”
He shook his head. “Never. Because from where I’m standing, you’re not below. You’re standing pretty fucking tall.”
You are not going to cry. You are not going to cry.
I had spent years—four and a half, to be exact—working to reach this place, a place where I felt strong and powerful. Some days, I believed I could conquer the world; other days, I felt as small as I did when I was newly married and enduring his abuse. Hearing someone validate work I put in every single day shattered something inside me. It broke down the walls I had built around my castle—my fortress. It tore down the barriers I had erected to protect myself from being hurt again.
I sighed. Alex was good at that. He had a way of showing me things I didn’t know how to see in myself. He was good at not letting the bad days win, at finding light in the darkest moments, and at giving me the foundation to stand as tall as I did today.
I hesitated. After everything Alex had done for me, after all the ways he had lifted me when I felt like I was drowning, it felt impossible to turn him down. And besides, if Dirks came along,it would just be a couple of old friends catching up over a meal. That was all.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
But deep down, I knew there was more to it than just dinner. The way Alex looked at me, the way his presence made me feel both safe and vulnerable at the same time—it was intoxicating. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for what that could mean. And yet, the thought of declining his invitation felt like shutting a door on something that had the potential to be... everything.
“With Dirks.” I looked up at him, searching his familiar eyes for the answer to what I should do. “I’ll go to dinner with you and him.”
“With Dirks,” he repeated.
I shouldn’t say yes. I should run the other way. Damien didn’t deserve my past bleeding into his future, but my curiosity was too much for me to contain.
“I can pick you up. You can bring Damien, too.” Alex offered.
He was searching, desperate for me. It was as if we both knew that if I walked away now, the door would shut all over again. He stepped closer, closing the gap between us, and looked down at me.
“I miss my friend,” he whispered.
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? We were never really just friends. We were so much more.
He noticed my hesitation. “We started off as friends. We can still be that, but we can also just be label-less too. I... want to know you’re okay.”
“Just drinks, and I can walk and meet you.”
He nodded, and I took a step away from him. “Okay. I can have my roommate watch Damien, but I’m only available Wednesday.”
It was only a few days away, and I was lying. Any longer, and I’d psych myself out from going. Any earlier, and I might not have childcare for Damien.
He nodded quickly. “Yes. Perfect. We don’t have a game then.”
“Meet me at McCleary’s in the West Loop at five.”
“I can text you and pick you up if you need it?” he asked.
I shook my head. No, I didn’t want him to have my phone number yet. I wasn’t ready.
He swallowed. “Fine. We’ll be there. I’ll tell him.” He pointed to Dirks, and I turned to head back to Damien when his hand on the back of my arm stopped me.
“Anastasia.” His velvety voice was thick and raspy. I turned to face him. “Thank you.”
