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Alex walked over to me, gently repositioning Damien in his arms until he was nestled comfortably in the crook of his elbow. He grabbed my waist and pulled me into his chest, holding me tightly.

“I was horrible to you when you told me you were pregnant,” he murmured into my hair. “I was a shitty person and ran away because I was scared of what this might look like. I thought maybe you’d fall completely in love with him and somehow forget about me?—”

“I’d never forget you.” My heart sank deep into my chest as the words came out of my mouth.

Somewhere down the line, maybe when he stayed with me while I freaked out in the hospital about Damien coming too soon, I may have developed feelings for him.

Feelings that terrified me.

He was always there, a steady presence when everything else seemed to be falling apart.

The way he always opened the door for me, the quiet reassurance, the way he looked at me like I was the only person in the world.

It was comforting, intoxicating even, and I found myself drawn to him in ways I couldn’t explain, or rather, ways I refused to acknowledge.

Every lingering glance felt like a betrayal to the vows I had taken. I was married, bound to someone else by promises and love that once felt unbreakable. But here I was, teetering on the edge of an emotional abyss, feeling things for another man I never should have allowed myself to feel.

Guilt gnawed at me. Yet, the magnetic pull he had on me was undeniable. He was my rock, my confidant, the one who understood my fears and dreams without judgment. In my most vulnerable moments, he was there, his presence a balm to my wounded spirit.

The conflict inside me was relentless. I was so upset with him for the way he ignored me while I was pregnant, but I couldn’t be because he had every right to live his life the way he deserved.

He should be going out with his friends, not staying at home with me.

Yet he filled a void I hadn’t realized existed, and the more time I spent with him, the harder it became to ignore the growing affection.

That was it—I broke down. I sobbed deeply, loudly, and uncontrollably in his arms, the floodgates of my pent-up emotions finally giving way.

As I fell apart in his arms, Alex’s comforting scent of rich bourbon and lemon enveloped me.

It was the first time in so long that I was safe, even though I was surrounded by my husband and mother daily. This was what home felt like.

But in his embrace, guilt flooded my mind.

How could I have failed to stop by or even thank him for his unwavering support?

I longed for him—for the sense of belonging he provided.

Yet, it was overwhelming. He would never be mine, and that realization brought a deep sadness that pierced through the fleeting comfort of his arms.

Slowly, I pulled away from him, disentangling myself from his embrace. My breasts, which were leaking, brushed against his chest, and we both looked down, his face suddenly anxious.

“I don’t know how to help you with that.” He coughed awkwardly.

I managed a weak smile through my tears. “It’s okay. Only Damien can help with this problem.” I tried to make it sound lighthearted, but a pang of sadness hit me. Alex was my rock, my safe haven, but he was never mine to keep.

“You can go out,” I whispered as I reached for the baby, who had started to fuss and look around for milk. “I’m sorry I stopped by.”

He stopped me. “Can you stop doing that? Please. I told you I would be here. I opened the door.” He gestured over to the couch. “Where do you want to nurse him?”

“Anywhere. The couch is fine.”

He grabbed my elbow and brought his calloused thumb to my chin, forcing me to look into his deep green orbs. “That’s not what I meant. Where would you do it if you were at home? Where are you comfortable?”

“Uh, I guess I would do it in my bed.”

He then grabbed my hand and guided me to the back of the apartment.

I’d never been here because this was always part of the boundary we never dared to cross.

But as he led me down the long hallway, baby in my arms, he pushed open the door to his bedroom.

It matched the warmth of the main room. There was a large wooden bed in the center of the room, the bed was unmade, and a few of his clothes were strewn about the floors.

“I wasn’t expecting—” He paused as he picked up his clothes and threw them in a black hamper in the corner. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I smiled. “Do you think it would be okay if I borrowed one of those shirts too?” I asked, motioning to one in the hamper. It was big enough to give me a little privacy as I nursed Damien.

“Yes, yes. Of course.” He grabbed the shirt and then gestured to his bed. “Sit.”

I situated myself so I was propped against the headboard, and I used a few of his extra pillows and his extra shirt to cover up while nursing Damien. Alex never left the room, only turning when I was trying to get Damien to latch.

“Can I sit next to you?” he asked, and I nodded.

We sat there while I nursed Damien in comfortable silence. I glanced over, and Alex was leaning back on the wooden headboard, resting his head up and looking aimlessly at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry I came here,” I whispered, breaking the silence. “It feels like everything is falling apart at home. My mom is in town. Damien just came home from the hospital.” My voice faltered as I added, “Dimitri has all but left us.”

“I feel like a broken record, but I can help.” Alex flexed his jaw as his eyes looked into mine, and for a moment, I let myself drink him in. It could’ve been the hormones or because I had missed him so much, but he was so perfect and beautiful.

I was lactating with a newborn baby, sitting in his bedroom, and he didn’t bat an eye or tell me to go away. In fact, he held the door open and let me in. I held my eyes shut and felt the tears form.

“I know. He wants to make things better. He told my mom that he’s going to let us come to your games and even wants to bring me alone to reconnect.” The second part was a lie. I had no idea why he wanted me to travel with him alone. He could ask the other woman.

“Are you holding on to hope?” Alex asked, his tone filled with genuine curiosity, not malice.

I nodded. “I’ve lost everything, including skating. I lost my job teaching kids to skate, and now, without childcare, I can’t go back.”

“I’ll watch him,” Alex said, leaning over to gently run his fingers along Damien’s head. “Hell, if it means strapping him to myself in that contraption you came in with and sitting at the ice rink to watch you, I’ll do it.”

I chuckled and shook my head. “No. You have better things to do. You have to live your life too.”

He shifted so he was sitting more on his hip, facing me.

“I have to live my life with you in it, Anastasia.” Then he looked down at my little baby, who had popped off the breast. I was grateful Alex’s shirt covered the not-so-cute oversized areola, trying to maintain some semblance of attractiveness in my own head. “Now you come as a two pack.”

“Nothing is good in twos.”

Alex’s mouth dropped, and his eyes widened. “What are you talking about? All the greatest snacks come in twos. Two Oreos, two Reese’s, two Twix bars...”

I laughed so hard that the baby started to fuss in my arms. I tucked my shirt back up to cover myself. “You’re absolutely ridiculous.”

He reached out toward Damien’s head. “Can I hold him?” he asked so softly that I thought I misheard him at first.

“You want to hold Damien?” I asked, surprised, and Alex nodded.

“Oh, yeah. Of course.”

I gently handed him the baby, and he cradled Damien in the crook of his arm like a football.

“It was an indescribable experience, seeing him born,” he said, looking down at the small baby before shifting closer to me.

If someone were looking into this apartment from the outside, not that anyone could, we would look like the picture of a family.

A doting dad, a mother, and a sleeping baby.

But we weren’t that. The warmth of this moment was a fragile illusion, a fleeting escape from the harsh reality that surrounded us.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t come back after I had him. I don’t deserve you,” I said, my need to apologize overwhelming me. The words felt heavy, weighed down by the regret and sorrow I carried.

“And I’m really sorry I didn’t come around when you were pregnant as much. I don’t deserve you.” He repeated my words.

My lips furled. “Really. I’m the one who should be extra sorry.”

Apologizing had become second nature to me.

I was always making amends for everyone.

I had told my coach I was sorry for getting pregnant, sorry I couldn’t compete this year.

I apologized to my mother for not being a good enough wife, and to my husband for allowing him to treat me the way he did.

I was always sorry, and the weight of that sorrow hurt more than anything else.

It was as if saying sorry was my way of trying to carry the burden of everyone’s disappointment and anger, hoping it would somehow make things right.

Yet somehow, the weight of it all was hurting me the most.

He looked at me, his eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored my own. “You don’t need to apologize, Anastasia. I understand. You just had a baby, for God’s sake.”

But his understanding only made it worse, deepening the melancholy that had settled over us.

The sense of what could have been hung in the air, a painful reminder of the boundaries and barriers that kept us apart.

I watched Alex with Damien, the gentle way he held my son, and felt a bittersweet ache.

This was a glimpse of a life that might have been, a life filled with love and support, not endless apologies and regret. But this was not the life I lived.

“When was the last time you slept?” he asked.

The corners of my mouth twisted into a smirk. “Before I gave birth?” I sighed.

He shifted and then opened the hand closest to me. “Come.” He gestured to me.

I looked down at his hand, the crook that I’d fit so perfectly in.

“Don’t think,” he begged. “Just come.”

I nodded and then shifted so I was tucked nicely into his arm.

He leaned back on the pillow, holding the baby tightly in his right arm and grabbing my waist, pulling me close.

His hand on my waist felt comforting and grounding, his fingers gently caressing my skin.

Lemon and a hint of bourbon filled my senses, soothing me in a way that nothing else could.

“My shirt is all wet,” I murmured.

“Use mine,” he offered softly.

I nodded, already feeling the exhaustion washing over me, both physically and mentally.

Alex turned his head to the other side of the room, giving me privacy to swap shirts.

As I changed, a mixture of vulnerability and relief settled over me.

Once his shirt was on, an unexpected sense of comfort came over me, as if I was wrapped in his presence.

He turned back to me, his eyes filled with concern and tenderness.

He pulled me back into his embrace, his hand gently guiding me to rest against him.

The warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart, and the familiar scent made me feel safe.

His fingers continued their gentle caress on my waist, sending shivers of comfort and longing through me.

“Thank you, Alex,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied softly, his breath warm against my hair. “I’m here for you, always.”

In that moment, nestled against him, with Damien sleeping soundly in his arms, I allowed myself to believe, if only for a little while, that everything would be okay.

The world outside might be filled with uncertainty and sorrow, but here, in Alex’s arms, I found sanctuary.

His touch, his scent, and the way he held me so securely made me feel like I had finally come home.