Page 74 of Your Sharpest Edge
“There is so much—” I wanted to tell her everything, confess all my sins.
She held up her hand. “No.” Her tone was commanding as she leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “Listen to me.”
Both of us nodded and clamped our mouths shut.
“I was eighteen years old when my mother thought it was a good idea for me to get married. It was the only way I was able to get the funding I needed to pursue my dream and be on a national team. I was far away from home, in an arranged marriage, because I was desperate to reach my goals and appease my parents.” She huffed out a breath.
I wanted so desperately to reach across the table, grab her arm, and tell her she didn’t need to say any of this, but her words spilled out. A part of me wondered if we were the only two people she was able to say this to.
“That relationship was one of the worst things to have happened to me, but since I was only a child, I had no idea that having sex with my husband didn’t involve a physical beating every time.”
Dirks put his face in his hand, not interrupting her, but the guilt he felt for the role he played by egging him on at the bars was clear.
“Alex,” she said, and my eyes shot up.
“Yeah?”
“You were the only one who ever made me feel safe. You, your home, your heart—it was my sanctuary. So when he did what he did, that day in the hospital, it consumed me. In just a few minutes, everything I thought I knew was turned upside down, and I was left scrambling, desperate to regain some sense of control.”
Suddenly, it all clicked, and my heart raced so hard inside my chest I swear everyone at the goddamn bar could hear it. “I know. I think about that day often. It was overwhelming.”
She nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Dirks murmured as he reached out to her.
Their hands met, intertwining in a gesture of comfort.
Jealousy clawed at me with an intensity I’d never experienced before. I yearned to tear their hands apart, to demand that he leave her alone. I wanted to reclaim her attention, to continue the conversation that was clearly meant for me. But I forced myself to swallow back those impulses, allowing her words to sink in.
She deserved to have control over her life, I reminded myself. It didn’t mean I didn’t long for her to be mine, though.
“You did nothing wrong, Dirks,” she said softly.
When he lifted his head, tears were in his eyes. I turned and put my hand on his shoulder. I didn’t realize how much Dimitri had fucked up a lot of us, all processing this in our own ways.
“I did know. I knew he was with... others. He was out with her...” Dirks was crying. “I knew he was hurting you. I should have said something.”
She paused. “How did you know?”
He lowered his head. “He used to brag about it. He always tried to play it off as just a sexual thing, but after a while, it all made sense. I would invite him to party with us because I knew then he wouldn’t be home with you.”
I looked at Dirks. “I had no idea you did that.”
Dirks gave me a soft smile. “I was just trying to help, but I should have done more—been better.”
She squeezed Dirks’ fingers. “Thank you.” Tears streamed down Anastasia’s cheeks. “You saved my life. If he was always home, you’re right, it would have gotten worse. The more he partied, the easier it was for me.”
I stared at her, and when her gaze met mine, her eyes softened before flicking back to Dirks. “This isn’t your fault. I’m okay now. You need to stop beating yourself up about it.”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
She gave him a soft smile. “Thank you.”
The waitress came by with our beers and food.
“Phew,” she sighed as she dipped a fry into the ketchup.
She held up her drink, and Dirks and I held up ours. When she spoke, though, it wasn’t to the table. Her eyes never left mine. “To being divorced, moving forward and to forgiving ourselves.”
