Page 43

DANIEL

“It’s going to be okay, I promise.” I squeeze Anya’s hand. Her shoulders are visibly stiff because of nervousness, and I want to comfort her, but I am afraid, too. I am not sure if things will go as planned. I adjust the bouquet of lavender that Anya insisted on buying. “Let’s go,” I say as the elevator pings open. The bouquet in my hand feels like an extra weight, a tangible reminder of my nerves. I take a deep breath and try to calm myself as we approach the apartment.

“I have lived here since I was eight.” I rub my nape and smile sheepishly. “So, if you find posters of Lebron James and some stupid motivational quotes, don’t make fun of me.” I glare at her playfully.

Anya smiles, a soft laugh escaping her. “I won’t. I won’t,” she promises, her hand squeezing mine.

“I am still a huge fan,” I say.

“Did you meet him then?” She raises an eyebrow.

“For a fraction of a second, yes.” I inhale deeply. “But I was too starstruck to say anything at all.” I chuckle.

“Daniel,” she whispers. I look at her. She smiles gently and raises on her toes, giving me a kiss on the cheek. I relish in the soft touch of her lips on my skin. “I am with you. I don’t know if I will be helpful, but—” I press my lips on hers and intertwine our hands.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way. I am glad you’re here with me.” I peck her nose. “You being with me is always helpful; remember that.” I smile against her lips. “I can breathe easily with you around.”

She opens her mouth to say something, but the door opens to reveal Nancy, her eyes widening in surprise as she eyes between me and Anya. Anya gasps and pulls her hand out of mine. I frown and look at her as Nancy chuckles.

“Hi, Nancy.” I smile widely. “It’s been a long time.” I fake a pout.

She hits my arm. “And whose fault is that?” She shakes her head and glares at me playfully. “Your father never complains, but you should at least visit him more, Danny.” She frowns. “Especially now. It’s only an hour drive from your university.” I feel a pang of guilt hit me all over again. It’s not like I did not want to visit him or didn’t have time to do so, but I was scared that seeing him so fragile would make me weak enough to give into all his demands.

“I am sorry,” I say apologetically. “How are you here?” I raise an eyebrow.

“I come to visit him every Saturday. I don’t want him to get lonely. Usually, I bring Mike with me, but I knew you would be visiting, so I told him to stay at home.” She smiles warmly.

“Thank you for doing that, Nancy.” I give her a side hug.

I can feel Anya’s eyes on me, and I steal a glance at her, noticing the way she’s standing a little behind me, seemingly unsure of what to do. I reach out and take her hand, pulling her closer to me.

“Anya, this is Nancy. She was my nanny.” I introduce them. “Nancy, this is Anya, my very pretty girlfriend.”

Anya’s eyes widen but she composes herself quickly, offering Nancy a weak smile. I can’t help but laugh at her reaction. She shoots me a glare that says, If Nancy weren’t here, you’d be dead.

“She’s lovely.” Nancy smiles, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

“It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.” Anya smiles politely.

“Please, call me Nancy.” She links her arm with Anya’s. My girlfriend looks at me, taken aback, and I cock my head, giving her an indication that it will be alright.

“Do you remember, Danny?” Nancy turns her head to look at me, laughs, and looks back at Anya. “He used to call me Nanny. He never believed my name was Nancy.” She chuckles. “Because I was his nanny, and he insisted on being called Danny so that our names rhymed.”

I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks. “I was just a kid,” I exclaim, crossing my arms defensively. Anya sniggers.

“I would love to know more about his childhood stories. Embarrassing ones, especially.” She smiles smugly.

I walk faster, catching up to them. “Oh no, we are not doing that.” I insert myself between them, and they laugh at me.

Nancy ignores me. “There was this one time when this boy set fire to the mattress because it was cold, and he wanted to make it warm.” Anya's jaw drops and I groan.

“Come on.” I pout at Nancy. “You don’t need to tell her everything. You don’t know her. She is going to tease me for life,” I whine.

“That’s the plan, captain.” Anya smiles softly. I look into her brown eyes. So warm, they remind me of the golden hues of a sunset. My heart thumps faster in my chest.

“Go, show her around.” Nancy nudges me slightly. “Your father will be down in five.” She takes the bouquet from my hand.

I intertwine my fingers with Anya’s and head toward my room. Anya and I walk down the hallway, the comfortable weight of her hand in mine calming my nerves. Her gaze drifts over the walls, adorned with numerous framed photos. She stops. “Is that your mother?” she asks, pointing at one of my favorite photo of my mother and me.

Mom stands in the doorway in one of her floral dresses she loved, her bag in her hand. I’m perched on her back, arms wrapped tightly around her neck and my face split in a wide grin. She is smiling but I can see the annoyance on her face. She was getting late for work.

“Yes.” I smile. “I always wanted a piggyback ride, especially when she was working, hence the annoyed look.” I chuckle.

“You look adorable.” She grins, her fingers tracing the frame of one picture where my seven-year-old self is holding up a small trophy, a wide grin plastered on my face.

I chuckle, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing her closer. “Yeah, I was a cocky little shithead.”

“What makes you think that has changed?” She narrows her eyes playfully.

I scoff, my arm slipping down to her waist, drawing her closer. The scent of her lavender perfume fills my nostrils, and I inhale deeply.

“Who cares? You like me. That’s all that matters.” I grin, glancing sideways at her. My thumb brushes against the fabric of her dress, tracing small circles on the smooth material, relishing in the feel of her warmth beneath my touch. Anya laughs, a soft chuckle that escapes her lips as a faint blush creeps up her cheeks. She looks up at me, the corner of her mouth curved into a playful smile.

“Come on.” I pull her toward my room. I fling the door open and lead Anya inside. A familiar scent hits me—something like old books mixed with faint cologne. I pause for a second, taking it all in. The walls are still the same muted gray I painted them years ago, except for the one navy-blue wall that holds a massive poster of LeBron James.

The sunlight streaming through the wide window on the left casts a warm glow over the room, making everything look softer, smaller even. My trophies are still lined up on the shelf above the bed—gold and silver glints of memories staring back at me. The bed itself, pushed against the far wall, looks oddly neat. Too neat. Like Mom used to make it when she was alive.

I glance at the chair near the window and spot it—the fluffy basketball I used to carry around everywhere as a kid. The sight makes me chuckle under my breath.

“My mother gave it to me the day before she died.” I chuckle weakly. “I was upset with her because she did not hug me before leaving for work.” Her eyes soften as she accepts it. I watch her as she looks down at the toy, studying its features, her fingers tracing over the stitches of the basketball. She squeezes my hand. I squeeze it back and smile at her. “I am fine now.” I try to reassure her as a crease appears between her eyebrows. “She had coronary heart disease,” I inhale deeply, “she was in an accident and had a heart attack.” I explain.

“This was the last gift she gave you, Daniel.” She gasps. “Captain.” She smiles widely, and her eyes meet mine. “It’s as if you got her blessing. Call me superstitious—” She chuckles.“---but she wanted you to become a basketball player because she knew you loved it, because she saw what I still see. You are the happiest when you are on the court, Daniel,” she says softly, grinning widely.

I can’t help but be overwhelmed by her words. She has no idea how much her words mean to me. She has no idea how much this is affecting me. “Really? You think so?” I whisper, uncertain of how to feel.

“Absolutely,” Anya replies, her eyes sparkling. “You are made for this, captain.” She moves closer to me and pecks my cheek .

My hands automatically find their way to her waist, pulling her flush against me. “You are a little wrong though,” I murmur, my gaze fixed on hers. “I am happiest when I am with you, Anya. You make my heart happy.” I lean my forehead against hers. “You are my home, Firecracker.” I press my lips to hers.

“You’re such a sap,” she murmurs against my lips, her fingers latching onto my t-shirt, pulling me closer. “Just promise me you’ll never stop being my basketball boy.”

I grin, my lips skimming across her jawline. “I promise.” I plant a kiss on her neck. A blush rises on her neck and she shivers. I smile against her neck, my hands reaching for the hem of her dress.

She pushes me away. “You are shameless.” I love seeing her natural blush, the way her chest heaves every time, the way I affect her.

“I think I have the right to be shameless with you.” I smirk. She shakes her head and twists her face playfully. My hands find their way to her hips again, tugging her against me, my body pressed against hers.

Her hands push me away slightly and she lets out a playful gasp. “You’re such a tease,” she says, feigning annoyance but unable to hide it. Before I can say anything, there is a knock at the door.

“Your father’s waiting for you in the living room,” Nancy says from the other side.

“We are coming,” I yell back. I bring a hand to cup Anya’s cheek. “Are you nervous?” I ask gently, studying her reaction.

She meets my gaze, her eyes still sparkling, a gentle smile forming on her face. “With you, I believe I will be just fine.”

“Yes, it will be fine,” I say, more to myself than her, and kiss her forehead. “Let’s go.” I hold her hand as we walk back to the living room. I kiss the back of her palm. I have no idea why I am so nervous. I am not sure how everything is going to go. I'm uncertain about how my father will react, and I don't know how Anya will feel either, but I know this is something I have to do. For my peace.

The soft carpet of the living room feels soft beneath my feet as we enter. My eyes wander to the couch where my father is sitting, his back facing us. He looks so weak. He seems lost in his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the fireplace.

“Hi Dad,” I say. I hope this goes well.

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