Page 63 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

“Did you ever go to counseling?” I feel him nod behind me.

“More counseling than you could ever imagine, and still, it’s a struggle.” I weave my hand between his fingers, my bare hands through his gloved ones.

“What were you like as a Dad?” I can tell he isn’t ready for the question. Maybe it was the wrong time, or I asked it in the wrong way, but I’m curious to know what Alex was like with Tally.

“I don’t know, Em, every time I think about it…I just think about how I failed her.” A deep aching fills my abdomen.

“What’s your favorite memory of her?” I ask something more specific to try and see himwithher.

“Probably her first birthday, watching her eat cake for the first time.” I picture a one-year-old sitting in a high chair with cake — everywhere. And I picture Alex laughing, maybe with his wife, but I focus on the look I can imagine on his face as he cleaned off little hands and wiped down a face.

“I feel like a terrible father because there’s so much I don’t remember. There was a lot I missed, traveling for work. And that’s the hardest part of it all. Not remembering when all I want is to relive each moment.”

“Do you feel like, in the future…you’d want to do it? Again? That is, have kids? And a family?” My question comes out disjointed and wordy. My heartbeat practically halts in anticipation.

“Yeah, Em. It is.” I close my eyes, able to breathe again. “Is that somethingyouwant?” His voice is low.

This time, I reply with more than just a nod. I say, “Yes. I-I worry about being like my mom, but I don’t think I’m anything like her. Really.”

“You’re not,” he says.

“Just like you’re not like your father,” I tell him.

The clouds overhead start to tinge pink, and once the sun is fully up, I know we’ll turn back to head home.

“I think I’ve done more healing sitting on this rock with you than I have in 20 years of therapy.” God, that was a compliment in the highest degree. “Because sitting here with you, all I keep thinking is that I could do it again. With you. We could be a family, Em.”

I want so badly to believe him. My ovaries ache, my empty womb yearns, and I want it. With him, too.

“Maybe in a couple years…” I say, tempering expectations because would we even make it a couple years? I’m not sure, though I hope.

When we start needing to squint against the bright sun, I stand, holding out a hand for him to take.

Before I climb down, he pulls me in around the waist and kisses me. It’s a kiss like none other before, like he’s giving me something just now. Like he wants an imprint of this moment on his soul forever. I want one, too. I want more than just an imprint.

I picture a blonde-haired baby on our hip. I picture hikes to the cove in the mornings that take twice as long becausesomeone’s learning how to walk. I picture the both of us standing around a high chair, cleaning up cake, and laughing.

I picture a life with him. A life I would love.

SEVENTEEN

Alex

november

Pushing her back into the shower wall, I hoist her legs around me, then bring her down on my cock. She tips her head back and moans, digging her fingernails into my neck.

“Is that what you want, baby?” She nods, then lifts her hips to grind her clit against me. “God, you feel so fucking good.” She does. Tight and wet, a good fit. Perfect even.

“Alex…harder,” she tells me, sending blood racing down to my balls, that are already drawing up high and tight. My girl likes it rough. She claws at my back, her hands in my hair.

Our mouths meet, and our tongues tangle like we’re each trying to suffocate the other. She wants to consume as much as me. I push her harder into the wall and start sucking on her neck, leaving a mark like we’re in fucking high school.

It isn’t the indelible mark I really want to leave, but it satiates the feeling for the moment.

“Alex.” She tenses, and I push harder.

“I’m not stopping till you come apart on my cock.”