Page 8 of Your Sharpest Edge
“Yup, no baby yet,” Dimitri huffed.
I looked back down at my food, praying that the tears wouldn’t come back. If I embarrassed him, Dimitri told me I’d really “get it.” I didn’t want to begin to know what that meant.
Alexsey coughed and then spoke up. “I don’t think that’s how it works. Otherwise, I’d probably be running around with a whole basketball team,” he said jokingly.
I looked up slowly, and his gaze was transfixed on mine. His voice was cheerful, as if he was trying to lighten the mood after Dimitri’s intense remarks.
“Whatever,” my dearest husband retorted.
There was a knock on the door.
“Excuse me. I guess tonight is full of unexpected visitors.”
Murmuring came from down the hall, and I took a moment to look around Alexsey’s home while Dimitri remained fixed on the game.
It was very different from our apartment. It felt warm. In the main room, which was off the corner, there was a large, brown leather couch and a few chairs. The entire ceiling had exposed wooden beams, and I realized the floors matched the same wood. The table was dark wood, and we were sitting on black chairs. It didn’t feel as stark as Dimitri’s apartment.
“Look who the fuck is here.” A booming male voice echoed from down the short hallway to the front door.
I put my spoon down and stood up when Dimitri did. Another guy who was similar in stature to Alexsey and had shaggy hair came running in, slamming Dimitri on his chest.
“Bro,” the new guy shouted. “I didn’t get the dinner invite, and I’m just next door. What the fuck?”
Everyone looked in my direction, and my hands flew to my cheeks in panic. The redness grew.
“I-I’m so, so sorry.” I was appalled at myself, and I didn’t dare make eye contact with my husband, who I already knew must’ve been disappointed in me.
Somehow I should have made more than enough for anyone to eat it. Somehow I should have known who on the team lived here and invited them... Somehow...
Alexsey came up behind the new guy, giving his shoulders a squeeze, and then gestured to the open chair next to his. “It was a surprise visit. Anastasia, made borscht.” He nodded over to the counter where my pot was sitting. “There’s plenty extra. Want a bowl?”
“What is it?” the new guy asked.
“A dish from Russia. It’s essentially beet soup,” Alexsey told him as he handed the new visitor a bowl, and we all sat down.
“My name is Dirks,” the guy said with a mouthful of red soup. “I’m the goalie.”
“Nice to meet you. My name is Stassi Il?—”
Dimitri pulled at my waist. “Sokolov.”
Dirks put down his spoon, the liquid dribbling down his chin, then turned to Dimitri. “No shit. You’re married?”
He looked between us. “Yeah. This is my new wife, Stassi.”
“Bro. I had no idea you were even engaged.” Dirks stood up and gave Dimitri a handshake-hug from over the table. “Congrats.”
When he was sitting back down, Dirks turned toward me. “This,” he said as he pointed to the bowl, “is fucking good. Don’t forget about me next time you drop off some food for this shithead. I’m a lonely single guy, too.”
I giggled. “You got it.”
The conversation shifted to hockey as Dimitri and Dirks talked in depth about what this new coach was like. From what I gathered, he wasn’t going to be great and didn’t have thestrongest reputation, but since they were a new team to the league, their options were limited.
Dimitri’s attitude and demeanor toward me took a weird turn. He pulled my seat closer to him and snaked his hand around my lower back. He was no longer eyeing the television, but was now intent on the conversation happening.
“Anastasia?” A deep voice shook me from my thoughts yet again.
I looked up, and my eyes clashed with Alexsey’s green ones.
