Page 88 of Your Sharpest Edge
“Mommy,” a little voice shouted.
I turned, and Damien was running toward us, his hair wild.
“Dirks said he had pizza at his house, and he said we could go eat it.”
I looked behind the little guy to Dirks, whose similarly blonde hair was neatly pulled into a low ponytail. He shrugged.
“We all live in the same high-rise. We can go over there. He’s down the hall from me.”
“It’s going to be late by the time we get home. Damien has camp in the morning since he seems to have made a miraculous recovery.”
“Mommy, please,” he begged, and Dirks didn’t help, giving me puppy-dog eyes.
“I, uh.” I swung my gaze back to Alex.
“If it ends up being too late, you both could stay with me.”
I shook my head. “We’d never impose like that.”
“But I want you to.”
I leaned in to whisper to him. “I have work tomorrow.”
“I know. I just—pizza?”
I looked back at Damien and then out onto the ice, Alex’s words from earlier coming back to me. I’m only as good as my sharpest edge.
“Okay.” I hopped off the boards and brought Damien in for a hug. “Pizza it is.”
32
stassi
“This is so... nice,” I managed to say when I got into the apartment with a very sleepy Damien slumped over Alex’s shoulder.
Walking into his apartment, I was surprised. His place in California was warm, with plush furniture and wood accents. This was nice, don’t get me wrong. It was four billion times the size of my apartment and in a high-rise in the middle of the best neighborhood in all of Chicago, but this felt wrong.
Alex noticed my hesitation and gave me a small, understanding smile. “Yeah, it’s... different. I wanted something with more character, but a stylist came and fixed it up for me. I didn’t have it in me to tell them I hated it.”
I looked around, taking in the sleek lines and monochromatic color scheme. “It’s very modern,” I offered diplomatically.
“Stark and minimal.” He corrected me. “But it’ll do for now.”
He guided us down the hallway to a room that was shockingly different from the rest of the apartment. The walls were painted a warm blue color, creating a cozy, inviting atmosphere. In thecorner was a small twin bed with a soft quilted blanket and a few plush pillows. A rug with colorful patterns lay on the floor.
I couldn’t hide my surprise. “This is... different,” I said, looking around. It was as if this room was created specifically for a little kid.
Alex smiled. “I wanted at least one room to feel more like a home. Somewhere Damien could feel comfortable.”
“Y-You did this for him?”
Alex rubbed Damien’s back. “I can’t take credit for it, but it was what I did yesterday, hoping you’d say yes when I invited you over on Sunday. The room was already painted this color, so I went out and got a nice rug, to make it feel cozier.”
I ran my fingers along the blue quilt, the same color as Damien’s eyes. “It does.” I agreed.
As if on cue, Damien stirred in Alex’s arms, his little face scrunching up before he settled back into sleep. Alex gently laid him on the twin bed, tucking him in with the quilted blanket. He smoothed Damien’s curls, his touch tender and full of love.
Damien’s hand groped the air, searching for something.
