Page 38 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

“His name is Constantine Alexander Millar.” His eyes get misty, and my heart beats loud in my ears.

“Wow, that’s-” I’m at a loss, “a beautiful name, Alex. You should be so proud.” My eyes get misty, too, and my heart thaws a little for the woman who has made no attempt to meet or get to know me but named her son after her brother.

He just nods, then goes on. “He’s big,” he actually laughs. “Like nine pounds and 21 inches long.” I have no frame of reference here, but the way he says it makes it seem like that’s a lot.

“Wow!” I exclaim back, stirring the pan sauce that’s simmering in front of me.

He picks at the asparagus still on the baking sheet and keeps going.

“When Tally was born, she was six pounds, five ounces. She was this squatty little thing. A little bean.” He smiles, softer this time, andoh my god.If I could ever pinpoint a moment in time that I would regret, it would be this very second. Because the way he’s smiling and looking at me like he’s happy, I feel myself take one step, then another, and then I fall. For him.

“I love that name, Alex.Tally.” I say it for him again. So he knows his daughter’s name isn’t a bad word.

“Short for Tallulah.” He gives a sadder-looking smile, but he’s still smiling nonetheless, and all I want is to hug him, and kiss his forehead, and tell him he’s the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. He’s a good man. I want to tell him that most of all.

But I don’t.

“That’s a beautiful name, too,” I tell him instead.

ELEVEN

Alex

june

The clap of thunder is jarring. I have to focus hard on where I am. Who I’m with.

Home. In bed. Emma. Safe.And the adrenaline subsides.

She’s cuddled up next to me, a leg draped over mine. My arm, beneath her head. We fell asleep just like this, talking past midnight. We talked for hours, lying like this.

She’s become my safe place. No matter what I do or how I act, Emma keeps showing up every day, month after month, with a smile for me. Using her soft voice when she knows I’m close to losing it. She can read me, and it pains me that I can’t do the same for her.

She listens more than she talks. It’s my first time being with someone who talks less than me. She’ll answer questions and tell me about her day and classes, but more often, she just gives me space and time. She’ll wait for me.

When the thunder rolls again, I slide my hand into her curly blonde hair, touching a kiss to the top of her head.

My sweet girl.

It’s taken six months of marriage, but slowly, we’ve warmed to each other. The first few months were admittedly rough. I was still thinking about Jess. A lot. Was still struggling with being...here. But that’s fading. The scar is closing. I’m healing. And it feels like it’s all because ofher. Aside from the fact that we aren’t intimate, it’s the healthiest relationship I’ve ever been in.

Do I wish we were fucking? Most days, yeah. Every time I touch myself, I see Em on her knees. For me.Only me.When I shower, and my cock is hard, begging for touch, I see her. I don’t know when I stopped seeing long dark hair…Or more so when that stopped surprising me.

But everything with Emma feels good. Just like it is.

We have routines and weekly plans now. After…shemoved away, I introduced Em to Brit and Liam. And CT, too. We have dinner with Constantine at least twice a month. We go camping on the weekends whenever the skies are clear, and we hike to the hidden cove daily. The edges of our two lives have blended over the months, seamlessly.

So, on our sixth-month wedding anniversary, I’ve already decided: I’m going to ask my wife out on a date.

“You’re awake early today,” she whispers against my chest.

“It’s storming out.”

“Nooo,” her disappointment is obvious. We were supposed to hike to a camp near the hot springs this weekend. It was her “reward” for acing her finals. She chose it, not me.

“What if, instead, we…go out…on a date?” I can feel her body tense beside mine.

“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Her whispered question is almost as startling as the loud thunder that follows it.