A soft rumbling sound slowly brings me into consciousness. The bed around me is soft and warm and smells like Sasha. My mind is not quite awake but the memories of last night start to seep in. I should get up. But hiding in sleep sounds like a great idea.
The rumbling sound starts again, followed by a thud against my forehead.
I peel my eyes open and find that I’m face to face with a large gray cat.
“Hey, Cap.” My voice is scratchy from sleep.
He headbutts me again and I finally recognize the rumbling as a purr.
“I’m up. I’m up.”
With a groan, I push myself up and look around the room. I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings when I came in here last night, my mind was too weighted down to take in the details.
Sitting here now, alone, I take it in. The walls are a pale yellow. The furniture is white, all clean lines and heavy wood. The bedding is a soft teal. It’s girly and happy and not at all what I was picturing, but somehow it fits Sasha perfectly.
The window is covered with a heavy curtain that matches the bedding, but there’s bright light shining in around the edges. Rubbing my eyes, I search for a clock.
“Holy shit, Captain! Why didn’t you wake me up sooner?” I ask the cat, like a totally normal human being.
I don’t remember the last time I slept past 8:00. Let alone 9:00. The events of last night must have taken an even bigger toll than I thought. I place my hand on the mattress next to me and find it cool to the touch.
Pushing out of bed, I take the time to stretch out my tight muscles and adjust myself. Sleeping in jeans is about as uncomfortable as you can get.
My gaze lands on a photo framed on the wall. It’s Sasha. It has to be. I’d say she’s about 6 or 7, and the woman with her must be her mother. The resemblance is unmistakable. The rich brown hair. The hazel eyes. The sweet smile. There’s a boy in the picture, and – based on age – I’d guess that’s her older brother, John. The FBI agent.
Making my way around Sasha’s room, I take in all the photographs. The frames are different sizes, different colors, giving the room an eclectic gallery feel. One wall is all photos of family. One is all photos of stills. Flowers. A riverbed. Flames. The photography is beautiful and looks to be done by the same artist.
Pulling the door open, I hear female voices. Captain bumps into my leg before trotting down the hall. As if to say, come on jackass. On an exhale, I follow the cat.
I knew that Annie and Sasha would be together. Obviously. But I wasn’t prepared. The sight before me has my chest feeling like it’s splitting open all over again. At this point, I might as well pluck my heart out and set it on a tray. It’d be just as safe sitting out in the open.
“…and then Devon was telling his friends that he kissed Sadie at the bowling alley. But Sadie wasn’t even at the bowling alley. Her family was at Wisconsin Dells that weekend.” Annie sounds exasperated. “Why are boys so dumb? It’s like they don’t even think sometimes.”
Sasha’s laugh is loud and clear. “Oh Annie, you have no idea. I’d like to say they grow out of it. But that’s not exactly true.”
Annie scoffs. “I believe that.”
I’m standing at the end of the hallway, not quite out of the shadows, watching them as though I’m looking at an alternate reality. A reality that I’m beginning to think I want.
Annie and Sasha are still in their matching FBI sweatshirts. Both have their hair pulled up into high ponytails, and they’re both wearing frilly white aprons. Raising Annie has turned me into a decent cook, so I recognize most of the ingredients that are spread out all over the kitchen island. They’re making pancakes. Fucking pancakes. The meal that Annie always asks me to make when she’s had a hard week. The meal that we make together on Sundays when she tells me stories about her week. The sort of stories you tell your parents. The sort of stories you’d tell your mom. The sort of stories that Annie is currently telling Sasha.
My mind flashes to this same scene, only this time I’m seeing it in my apartment. All of us together. Smiles and laughs and pancakes as a family. A family. The word is so thick in my mind it makes my throat hurt. Is it actually possible? I’ve been pushing women away for the last decade, promising myself that I would focus on Annie. That I would do everything in my power to give her the best life possible. Have I been doing it wrong this whole time? Or was it only wrong because those other women weren’t Sasha? Can I give Annie more? Can we have this? Could I have a partner to face life with? Would Sasha even want that? Could she love Annie as her own? Could she love me?
My heart is racing, and I feel like I might collapse under my impending panic attack.
The cat bumps his head into my shin, snapping me out of my daze and lets out a loud meow.
My eyes refocus on the girls in the kitchen at the same time that they look up to see me.
“Dad! Geez, you finally decided to wake up?” Annie teases me with a wide smile on her face.
“Morning, Princess.” I choke out, walking towards my daughter and pulling her in for a hug.
I hope they’ll attribute my rough voice to the fact that I just woke up, and not to the fact that I’m trying my hardest not to cry. Cry. Me. I don’t think I’ve really cried since… fuck, since Annie was nearly kidnapped.
I squeeze her tighter, kissing the top of her head.
“Okay, okay.” Annie says as she struggles against my grip.
“Good morning.” Sasha’s voice is tentative.
Releasing Annie, I meet Sasha’s eyes. She sees it. What I’m trying to hide.
“Coffee?” She asks, pretending this is all normal. Pretending that my world hasn’t been imploding around me over the past 24 hours.
Nodding, I take the mug she offers.
I stand in the way long enough for Annie to ask me why I’m being so weird and for Sasha to shove me towards one of the barstools lining the island.
“Just sit down and relax, big guy.” Sasha says flicking my chest.
Relax? Yeah, sure.
I managed to make it through breakfast without making a scene, which was its own small miracle. Mostly, I just listened to Annie and Sasha talk about girl-stuff and pre-teen drama. And Annie showed me some photos she took using Sasha’s camera. They were just of books and other things around the apartment, but Annie was thrilled. Turns out most of the framed work in Sasha’s bedroom was taken by the woman herself. And now my little artist wants a camera for Christmas. Of course.
The two of them were so at ease with each other, you’d never know that they’d just met. I haven’t forgotten about the little detail from last night’s conversation. Something about Annie accusing Sasha of being after my money. I want to ask Annie why she would even think such a thing, but if they’ve moved past it, I won’t bring it up. Clearly, there’s a lot going on in Annie’s head that I’ve been oblivious to, and that needs to change.
“Do you mind if I wear this stuff home? I can give it back next time I see you.” Annie asks Sasha as she deposits the last dirty plate in the sink.
“No problem.” Sasha replies automatically, before moving her gaze to me. “Or… well…”
Of course, she’s unsure where I stand on all of this. I went from seducing her, to kicking her out, to being a goddamn wreck.
“If it’s okay with Sasha, that’s fine with me.” I ruffle Annie’s hair, a move she pretends to hate. “Go grab the… stuff I bought you, then we’ll head out.”
Annie and Sasha glance at each other and both burst into a fit of giggles.
“What?” I ask, looking back and forth between them.
They just laugh harder but Annie heads down the hall to collect her things from Sasha’s room.
Sasha is still chuckling, her back to me. With Annie out of view, I grab Sasha’s shoulder and spin her to face me. She lets out a squeak of surprise, but the sound is muffled as I pull her to me. My arms wrap around her. One around her back. The other around her shoulders, my hand cradling the back of her head.
For one heartbeat, her body tenses. If she pushes me away now, I’m not sure what I’ll do. I know I don’t deserve her, not after everything I’ve done. Not after how I’ve acted. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting her. Wanting her acceptance. Her affection.
I open my mouth to beg for her forgiveness, but my words are cut off by the feeling of her body relaxing. Her face turns to the side so her cheek can rest against my sternum. I squeeze her tighter and her arms come up to wrap around my waist. Her small hands splay across my back before curling in to grip my shirt.
“Thank you.” I whisper, my lips pressed against the top of her head. Breathing in her scent.
Her fingers release their grip, and she rubs her hands up and down my spine. “You don’t need to thank me. She’s a good kid.” With my arms around her, I feel her inhale and exhale. “You’re a good dad.”
Those words. My heart clenches. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear them from her. I grip her body even tighter to mine. Trying to hold the pieces of myself together.
Sasha pats my back. “Crushing me.” She wheezes out.
“Oh, sorry!” I let her go but keep my hands on her shoulders.
The most adorable smile forms on her lips when she tips her head back to look up at me. I don’t think, I just act. My mouth finds hers. My lips pressing against hers. The feeling is new and old and comfortable and exciting. Our kiss is slow. The most unhurried I’ve ever felt. Like this is the first time. A new beginning. A moment I want to savor.
I drag my hands up her neck until I’m cupping her face. Her perfect face. She makes a small humming sound and I slant my mouth over hers, deepening the kiss. Playing my tongue against the seam of her lips. She tastes like strawberries and syrup.
Our kiss slows to a stop, but we keep our foreheads together. Her hands are gripping my wrists. Not pulling them away, just holding on.
“Can I see you tomorrow?” I ask, not caring how pleading I sound.
Sasha runs her hands down to my elbows then back up to my wrists as she hums her agreement. “I have to meet with Cheryl in the morning, but I’ll be at the Mazzanti offices after that.”
“Good.” I press a kiss to her forehead, where ours had been touching.
“Ugh, get a room.” Annie says with a fake gag, appearing back in the kitchen.
Sasha tries to step back, but I don’t release my grip on her. Not until I kiss her forehead once more.
