Chapter 8 Natalie
NATALIE
Iwalked up the steps to my apartment hoping that Maisie would be asleep.
My daughter wasn’t too fussy about bedtimes.
Despite all the changes in her life, like her father dying and my having to work so much and not be her sole companion, she was a reliable sleeper.
I was grateful for that, but sometimes when I was lonely and missing her when I was at work—convinced that I was a terrible mother to not be home as much—I sometimes wished that she would wake up for a moment when I came home so late.
If she wasn’t, I would often stand at the door to her small room and watch her sleep, peaceful and content.
Well, I hoped she was peaceful and not wanting for anything.
Tonight, after Sergei almost walked me all the way home, I trudged up the stairs and prayed that she would be deep asleep and not stir at all. That she wouldn’t want my attention. Because if she saw me now, she’d have so many questions about the look on my face.
Questions I could not answer.
Questions that raced in my mind.
Why does it feel so right to kiss him?
How can such a dangerous man make me feel so safe? So cherished?
There was no doubt that Sergei was a dangerous man.
He carried a confidence that Fitz never could have pulled off.
Power and strength exuded from the stranger I’d called my fake boyfriend.
With just one look, he could scare off anyone.
His intimidating aura would convince anyone to think twice about messing with him.
Why?
How?
Who is he?
I didn’t want to dwell on where he’d come from, how he could be so sinister yet tender with me.
Not once did he issue the threat of harm toward me.
Whatever he’d experienced in life prepared him to be a bad ass.
A bad boy, which was so opposite of my late husband that I worried I wasn’t equipped to know how to handle a bad boy.
A sexy man who kissed me like Sergei did.
I couldn’t lie and admit I didn’t like it.
I couldn’t deny the hunger that he didn’t try to hide when he laid his hands on me. The protection he offered me so freely.
Why—
I huffed out a deep exhale of frustration as I reached my door. Hanging my head, I waited for this guilt to fade. Guilty and ashamed of how much I liked his kiss, I hesitated to open the door.
Going directly to bed would be wisest. But when I entered and Daria looked up with a smile from her spot on the couch, where she sat reading, I knew I’d have to mask how unsettled I felt from Sergei’s last kiss.
Shame and guilt gnawed at me with how I’d kissed him back.
How I couldn’t stop the mental replay of wanting more.
“Long night?” Daria guessed as she stood.
Wincing with a frown, she proved that she was an expert at picking up on cues.
The college student would do well with her degree in psychology, even if she was struggling with debt and the looming question of how she’d pay for her education without the scholarship she’d been hoping for.
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat, knowing I could confide in her if I took the chance.
I was so grateful she’d approached me when I moved in with Maisie.
She’d noticed that I was a single mom. She was hoping for extra money from babysitting, and it was a perfect symbiosis between us.
“A weird night,” I confessed, keeping what I said open-ended so I could backtrack if I needed to.
If talking about my “fake” boyfriend would be too much to handle.
“Weird?” She glanced at me as she set her books and highlighters into her bag, readying to leave. “Weird how?”
Go on.
Take a chance.
Tell her.
I was reaching the point that I’d go insane not talking about Sergei with someone. After Fitz died, it was so clear how alone I was. He was my whole world, setting up too much dependence on him by default.
Fitz was my first love. The only man in my life. I’d focused on our relationship as if it was the only one that mattered, and now, with him gone, I saw how stupid that mistake was. I needed friends. Acquaintances. Some kind of a support network.
Just tell her.
“Well, there’s this guy.”
Her instant smile proved this was a mistake. I groaned.
“No, no.” She waved her hands back and forth. “I’m not judging or thinking anything bad.” She smiled wider, sympathetic. “I’m not teasing. I’m… happy.”
“Happy?” I huffed a laugh and sat on the couch. She joined me, setting her bag by her feet.
“Yeah. If a woman looks as sullen and confused as you do, I’d hope it’s a man who’s making her challenge herself like that.”
“It is a challenge,” I admitted. “I’m not ready to meet men or talk to them or want them or go kissing strangers and—” I sucked in a deep breath and shut up. Confiding in her with an unstoppable ramble wasn’t the goal here.
“Kissing?” She grinned. “Wow!”
I let out a sigh. “It just happened. He’s…he’s…”
She raised her brows. “Hopefully a good kisser?” she guessed with a playful tone.
“Yes. The best.” I covered my face.
How could I even say that?
Comparing the knot of good tension on my stomach from Sergei’s kiss felt like such a disrespectful thing to express about Fitz.
“Natalie…” Daria rubbed my back. “It’s okay.”
“It doesn’t feel okay,” I replied, looking up at the younger woman.
“I bet not. It’s different. It’s a change. You’re still grieving your husband.”
How could I be mourning my husband who was killed over a year ago when I was so giddy about kissing Sergei?
Can I be any more of a hypocrite?
“Fitz’s death shattered my life. It still does,” I said. “And this man, this stranger at the bar, he’s so unlike Fitz that I can’t begin to understand why I’m so curious about him. So thankful for him.”
“What’s he like?” she asked, no judgment or teasing.
“Tall. Strong. Muscled. He’s got tattoos all over.”
She raised her brows, surprised again. “You’ve seen all of him?”
“No!” I winced at how loudly I’d replied. “No. I haven’t. He comes by and kind of watches out for me. He helped me deal with some pushy drunks, and he’s just… there. Dark and brooding and…” I cringed. “Dangerous.”
“Dangerous for you?” she asked, worried. “Because you’re painting the picture of some kind of bad boy rebel.”
“He’s been nothing but patient and sweet to me. Kind. Generous.” I relaxed more, so happy I took the chance to talk to her. “We don’t even talk much. Small talk, really, and maybe some questions about each other.” I shrugged. “We’re still strangers more than anything.”
“And not knowing everything about him intimidates you?”
“I don’t know. This is so different and new for me. I don’t know if I want to get to know him. I can’t imagine actually dating someone with Maisie and me on our own now. I can’t decide if I’m going to deliberately put myself out there—ever.”
She dug her phone out of her bag. “Well, just for my peace of mind, what’s his name? I’ll look him up and vet him for you.”
I shook my head. “I… I don’t even know his last name. I feel like I’m betraying Fitz’s memory to even want to know anything about another man.”
Let alone for feeling so good after kissing him.
Daria frowned, rubbing my back sympathetically again. “That can’t be true. You loved Fitz. You still do. And that’s normal.”
I wasn’t ready to comment on what was supposed to be normal or not when my life had been tossed up so much like this.
“I don’t know what normal is anymore. Something about how effortlessly Sergei can seem like such a dark and threatening presence can’t be ‘normal’ either.
” Before I could worry her, I added, “Not to me. He’s been nothing but protective and considerate, not pushing me for anything or expecting anything in return.
” That mattered to me, too. I didn’t want to enter another situation where I could be dependent or obligated to repay anyone for anything.
Losing Fitz forced me to see how badly I had to be independent and strong on my own now.
“I am not ready to be with a man,” I admitted. “I’m not sure I ever will be, and if and when I am, if Sergei could be the right sort of person for me. For Maisie. I have to consider her in all this too.”
Daria patted my back gently. “One step at a time. One step at a time. If you’re not ready to open your heart to anyone, that’s fine.
You do you. But it might be a good idea to embrace the possibility of something new.
Right? Something different. Fitz wouldn’t want you to mourn him forever, to be alone and sad for the rest of your life. ”
I sniffled, hit with the sudden sadness of being so alone and lost. Because, of course, she was right. Fitz would want the best for me. He would want the best for Maisie, too, and he would be sad to see me not moving on.
As I hugged Daria and thanked her for hearing me out, I shoved it all aside just so she could leave and not worry about me all night.
“You’ll make a wonderful therapist,” I told her at the door.
She smiled sweetly. “Seriously, Natalie. If you ever want to talk or anything like that, I’m here for you.” She squeezed my hand. “You’re not alone.”
I waved to her and wished her a good night before shutting the door.
I wasn’t alone. I never would be with Maisie. And Daria was here, as a solid babysitter and friend.
But more than anything, I knew that I wasn’t alone because of Sergei showing up in my life. He was remote and aloof, an ambiguous stranger I had yet to learn about. At the same time, he was here, present and willing when I needed him the most.
I went to bed with him on my mind. No answers came to me as I got into bed. No clarity cleared my mind as I lay on the mattress and stared at the ceiling.
All I could do was repeat the question of whether I could accept this “challenge” of letting this sexy, tempting, and dangerous protector in my life any more than he already was.
Because no matter what I told myself and which way I analyzed it, I wanted him.
What are you doing to me, Sergei?
Why me? Why you?
Why do you tempt me to love again?