Page 72 of Your Sharpest Edge
“I don’t want to slap a label on it with him. I think that’s where we went wrong. We started as friends, but we were fooling ourselves. We were always more, but I was also married.”
“So, don’t do that this time,” Alina suggested. “You’re going to dinner with him and his friend. And if you feel like giving him your number, why not?”
I closed my eyes, grappling with my thoughts. “What if I want to kiss him?” I confessed, nerves fluttering in my stomach.
The truth was, I’d wanted to kiss Alexsey Popov from the moment I met him.
Before I knew it, Alina had stopped washing the dishes after getting sidetracked, wielding the rag in her hand to smack my butt playfully. “Anastasia Illyiana,” she exclaimed. “You want to kiss him?”
“Sort of,” I admitted sheepishly.
There was more truth to that statement than I cared to admit. Because deep down, I wanted to kiss him more than anything.
“Girl. You need to do it then.”
“But then things get messy.” I sighed, and my shoulders fell. “The moment I saw him, all the memories of the way he cared for me just took over. I think because I haven’t kissed anyone since the day in the hospital, I need to do it and get it over with. It was probably because I was still under anesthesia that I somehow romanticized how amazing it felt.”
Alina looked at me over her shoulder. “Really? You think so?” Her tone and raised eyebrow told me she doubted it.
“Yeah, but maybe I don’t need to go...”
“Well, in any case, you can always bail if tomorrow sucks.” She reassured me, her voice brimming with mischief. “Back to avoiding him like the plague, right?”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Are you expecting anyone?” Alina asked.
I shook my head. “No.”
I pulled out my phone to double-check that it was, in fact, Tuesday and I hadn’t messed up the days. I also looked to confirm no one had texted me.
“Maybe it’s a package. I’ll go check it.” Sometimes Alina got great deals through the big-box retailer she worked for, and she had them delivered to the house.
“Sounds good. I’ll finish washing the dishes.”
She nodded and walked down the small hallway to the door. It clicked open, and inaudible voices drifted toward me as I washed the glasses.
“Hey, Stassi?” Alina shouted over the running water.
I turned it off and took off the gloves. “Yeah?”
“Think you’re going to want to come and see this...”
I walked down the hallway, and she had the door propped open. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Look.” She opened it fully, revealing three massive boxes, each the size of a person, filled with different types of fabric.
“I didn’t order anything,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest, slightly annoyed. I worried my card might have been compromised, and now I had to deal with this before going to work.
Alina giggled. “No, silly. Look at the card.”
She plucked the card off the top box and handed it to me. “Just friends... Kiss him, girl,” she said as she walked down the hallway. “Good luck finding a place for all that.”
My mouth hung open as I watched her walk away, then my eyes settled on the paper in my hand.
I peeled open the card and noticed the writing below.
I hope you’re still sewing. Thank you for saying yes.
