Page 71 of Your Sharpest Edge
The sadness in his eyes mirrored the ache in my heart. This encounter was dredging up wounds that had barely healed, but there was no turning back now.
I gave him a quick, tight-lipped smile before I grabbed Damien and headed back to my car. I was not going to break down. Not in front of Alex. Not in front of Damien. I was going to save it for a giant vat of ice cream and my emotional support sewing machine tonight.
“I’m sorry what!? You saw him and let him walk away?” Alina was sitting cross-legged next to me on the carpet.
It was the first time we’d gotten to catch up after our opposite work schedules. I’d gotten Damien down for bed, and when Alina came in from her shift at a distribution center, she brought us two glasses of wine that we had saved for moments of celebration or sadness. This glass was for the latter.
“Obviously. I was with Damien in front of a huge group of people. I wasn’t going to scream at him and tell him to leave me alone. I’ve actively avoided him for four fucking years, Alina, and now I’m going to fucking dinner with him.” I pressed the pedal of the machine harder, completely missing my cutoff, and the thread went wild, unraveling everywhere.
“Fuck,” I said under my breath before I gave up, taking a long sip of the glass and looking down at my friend, who sat with her elbows propped against her knee.
Alina was a petite brunette with cropped hair, her striking appearance further accentuated by the intricate tattoos that covered her arms and snaked up to her neck. Despite our hectic work schedules that often kept us apart, Alina was always kind, making her a good roommate and friend.
Our apartment had a warm, lived-in feel. The beige floors provided a neutral backdrop to the space, while the couches, though showing signs of wear with a few rips, were incredibly comfortable and inviting.
She let me set up my sewing machine and a few shelves for the stuff I needed in the corner. The furniture was plain and functional, chosen more for practicality than style, but it suited our needs perfectly. The overall atmosphere of the apartment was one of simplicity and coziness, making it a comfortable haven amid the chaos of living with a five-year-old.
“You’re going to see him tomorrow?” she asked, and I nodded while getting off the chair and joining her criss cross applesauce on the floor.
“Yeah, I guess, but he’s bringing his friend Dirks, who we all knew.” I took another sip of wine.
“So, it’s not a date . . .?” Alina asked.
“Ugh,” I gruffed as I drank the rest of the wine. “No. Definitely not.”
“How do you feel about all of it?”
We scooted over so our backs were up against the couch, but we stayed on the floor.
“I guess...” I tried to think about how I truly felt about all of it. “I kicked him out of that hospital in a really harsh way. He had just kissed me?—”
“Yeah, but he kissed you moments after you woke up from a damn coma, as if doing that was somehow going to make everything happening to you better.” She took a sip, and I grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to face me. “Whoa. Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” I practically shouted. “That is exactly what I’ve been trying to tell my mom, hell myself, for the last few years. The very fucking reason it was all too much for me was because I was bombarded all at once.”
“Understandably so, babe. You just woke up, the last memory you had was your ex beating you within an inch of your life, and you found out your legs weren’t working. Then you have this guy who’s always been a pillar of comfort for you, and he love bombs you. It’s an absolutely normal reaction to want to push it all away and not deal with any of it.”
“Exactly,” I exclaimed, lifting my hands from her shoulders and inspecting the scars on my knees. “And besides, if he had stayed, he would’ve risked his entire career. I couldn’t let him do that.”
“Of course not.” She agreed, nodding sagely. “He needed to prioritize your stability.”
“But then I did the unthinkable, Alina. I pushed him away and avoided him like the plague. Somehow, I associated him with this idea that I wasn’t in control of my life. My therapists all told me that I went to such an extreme to avoid him that I kind of put myself in a corner, and it can be, well, it can be fucking lonely.”
Alina narrowed her eyes at me. “No, correction,” she said, pausing to grab a dirty dish and rag. “Nowadays, you pretty much avoid the entire male population.”
I followed her into the kitchen, grabbing a glass to wash. “I have zero interest in dating.”
“But sooner or later, you’ll have to dip your toes back into the dating pool. I can see the longing in your eyes...”
She was right, damn it.
“Plus,” Alina added, “I can hear the little buzz buzz coming from your room almost every night after you put Damien down.” She side-eyed me.
“Alina,” I shouted, feeling the flush go to my cheeks.
Ugh. She was right though. I did crave that physical connection. I yearned for the intimacy of a romantic relationship. I yearned for what Alex had offered me all those years ago—comfort. Alina had been a great source of emotional support, but I wanted the intimacy that came along with being romantically involved with someone. I wanted someone who could give me that pillar because the weight of it was so crushing after all the years.
Heck, I wanted someone who would help share basic things like the calendar of events with me. I didn’t want to have to panic about who was picking up Damien because he would already be there. I wanted a family.
