ANNA
The moment I step out of the elevator, my legs grow heavy.
I stand at the entryway, staring at Sylas as he stares back at me.
It still feels unreal that this is happening, that we’re about to have this conversation, and that he’s actually going to be part of Rosie’s life.
In my dreams, it was always the other way around. That he wanted nothing to do with her, that he detested that he had a kid with me and not someone who belonged in his circle.
But that’s obviously not the case. He wants to be involved, and for that to happen, we need to talk. I would have brought Rosie, but I know there’s no way we’d be able to focus. And doing this in public wasn’t an option.
“Hey.” I glance around, but there’s not much to look at, so I draw my eyes back to him. He’s still watching me with this indescribable expression on his face.
It makes me feel self-conscious, and I hate that. I’ve never felt like this before with him or anyone else for that matter. “What?”
His chest expands as if he took in a deep inhale. “I’m just…I’m happy you’re here, Anna.”
Oh. Don’t get excited. They’re just words. “You can thank Rosie for that.”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Right, yeah, follow me. The living room is this way.”
We walk through the entryway with just enough space between us. It’s almost awkward, and I’d be lying if I said this didn’t make me feel a little sad.
There was a time I couldn’t get enough of his hands and lips on me.
Where any amount of space between us felt unbearable.
When we were with other people, his fingers would be twined through mine.
When we were alone, his hands touched everywhere they could, and I don’t mean we were having sex constantly.
We were exploring not just our bodies but our hearts.
I’d never known how intimate words could be until he whispered them against my skin. But it didn’t stop there. They penetrated the barrier, sinking deep into my bones, branding themselves into the marrow.
“This is the living room.” He tucks his hands in his pockets.
Some things really don’t change. While his penthouse when we were in college was smaller, it’s no different than this.
Other than the light brown wood floors, it’s bare, sterile, and doesn’t feel like anyone lives here.
And it smells just about the same, disinfectant combined with the slight stench of tobacco.
“Since I just moved, I don’t have much, but I have the sectional and dining table,” he answers, as if he heard my thoughts. “And it works out that I haven’t bought anything else yet.”
“Why is that?” I follow him as he rounds the huge dark brown sectional.
It’s massive—I’m certain it fits more than ten people. The fabric feels as if it were made out of cashmere, and sitting on it makes me feel like I’m perched on a cloud.
Maya would love this. She hasn’t complained any more, but I know she hates my couch. I don’t blame her. Now that I’m sitting on this, I don’t know how I’ll be able to accept anything else.
He drops down a little closer than I’d like, but he’s still far enough away that we’re not touching. “I’ll be able to pick out whatever Rosie likes. Make it kid friendly. I just want to make her comfortable. That is, whenever you’re ready for her to come over.”
“Oh.” For whatever reason, that makes the backs of my eyes sting.
I blink a few times, forcing the burning sensation to stop.
“You don’t have to change or add too much.
She won’t care as long as she has a few toys.
Maybe not even that. Sometimes she’s happier playing with the most random stuff and will hyperfixate on them too. ”
Sylas smiles and those dimples appear. “Like?”
The genuine curiosity in his voice makes my heart flutter. I hate that. I need it to stop.
“One time it was Tupperware, then it was rocks. God, the rock phase didn’t last long, but it was annoying. She’d bring them in, and she didn’t just want to play with them, she wanted to bathe and eat and sleep with them. Before I knew it I was stepping on rocks everywhere. Thankfully that’s over.”
He snuffs a chuckle. “What’s her obsession now?”
“She actually hasn’t picked up on anything yet, but I’m sure she will soon.”
We look at each other for a long moment, and I see it, the flood of emotions that wells in his eyes.
“I missed out on so much.” He sighs. “There’s so much I want to know, so much I want to ask, but I guess we should begin with what my parents did. I’m really sorry about that, Anna. If I would have known…”
I rub my palms against my thighs. He tracks the movement, and from the corner of my eye, I catch his hand reaching out, but then he draws it back in.
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. It never was.”
“I know, but I ended things, and I—”
“You breaking up with me doesn’t make what happened your fault, but I guess it did work out in their favor.” I smile sadly at him.
Before the breakup, we were great—far from perfect, but our relationship was strong and steady. A few months after we started dating, he got called up to the NHL and moved to Colorado where he had been drafted.
We may have had many miles between us, but we were still doing great.
I stayed back because I wanted to graduate.
Despite how much I really wanted to be with him, he knew my plans weren’t going to change because we were together.
He respected them and encouraged me to pursue my dreams. And I did.
Before graduating, I applied to a few culinary schools in the US, but Sylas pushed for me to apply outside of it.
I did and that’s how I ended up going to école Ducasse, a French culinary school.
Well, before starting there, I went to Gastronomicom, an international culinary school so I could to learn French first.
I was hesitant because I didn’t have the money, and while I managed to get a scholarship, it hardly covered anything. Until Sylas said he’d pay for it. I refused initially, but after some back-and-forth, he convinced me.
I’d been in France for two years, and we had been together for four at that point, when it all went to shit.
The March before we broke up, he flew me to come see him play. It was toward the end of regular season, as they were getting ready for the playoffs. And then in May, the injury happened.
His shoulder dislocated a few times after it did the first time his freshman year in college.
There was a player from the opposing team, Jenner Strand, who’s known for playing rough, but that night, he was worse than he’d ever been.
He was playing dirty—everyone knew it—but the refs didn’t react until it was too late.
Jenner charged at him with possibly everything he had, knocking Sylas hard against the board.
His helmet not only came off, causing him to hit his head hard, but he also dislocated his shoulder.
It was so severe they had to get a stretcher. I found out later through Thea that he was concussed and would need to have surgery, and that maybe his career was over.
I didn’t hesitate to get on a plane and come see him. I just didn’t realize I’d be flying back single.
“I didn’t find out I was pregnant until June.
” I’m flooded with memories of when and how I found out.
My heart clenches and my stomach dips, but I ignore the ache and continue.
“I had no symptoms until then. I thought I was late because of the stress from the breakup, but then smells started bothering me. I felt nauseous and was throwing up. My—” I cut myself off.
You don’t need to bring that up. “I was having all these symptoms. I thought that all happened in the first trimester, but my midwife says it’s different for everyone. ”
“Your what?” His brow furrows, and he sounds curious but hesitant. Like he’s not sure if he should have asked, but I can tell he really wants to know.
“My nipples were really sensitive,” I answer nonchalantly. They’re nipples. So what if he knows?
His gaze drops to my chest, but it jolts away just as quickly. He stares at me, eyes darting across my face.
“Whatever it is, just ask. There is no point in holding back.” I shrug, toying with a chipped nail.
“Are they still pierced?”
How did I not see that coming? I sit up, acutely aware of how my nipples rub against my bra. “I took them out because it wasn’t safe while I was breastfeeding Rosie, but a few months after I stopped, I got them repierced.”
It was all on a whim. Jenny had a few days off, so she came to Boston, and after a few drinks, she managed to convince me.
Green eyes drop, stare, and lift. “Hmm.”
“Are we done talking about my nipples, or do you have more questions?”
The corners of his lips tick up. “No more questions.”
I find myself smiling but quickly flatten my lips. I’m about to tell him what his parents did. I shouldn’t be smiling.
“So when I found out, I knew I needed to tell you.” I inhale sharply, but no amount of breathing quells the painful way my heart lurches or how it’s in a constant state of shriveling.
“I called, I texted, I DM’d, I emailed you.
I tried everything and then one day the calls went straight to voicemail and the texts wouldn’t go through.
And when I tried your socials, I was blocked.
I thought maybe you were…I don’t know, processing your injury and the breakup, so I flew back to see you.
“When I showed up to your building, I was barred from going up. They said you took me off the list and that I was not allowed access, no matter what I said. Your mom showed up, as if she knew I was there, and said…” My throat tightens.
I hate that even after all these years, Clara’s voice still makes me feel so small.
“You know what, it doesn’t even matter.”
His jaw tics, the warmth in his eyes gone, replaced with resentment.
“It does matter. It really matters because I wasn’t there for you.
I promised you I would be and I wasn’t. Anna, I fucking hate myself for not being there.
I hate that I missed out. I hate that they took that from you, from Rosie, from me.
The thought of Rosie and you growing up thinking I wanted nothing to do with this is eating at me, it makes me want to lash out and commit murder.
” He drops his head forward, pulling at the ends of his hair.
“The only reason I haven’t confronted them is because I want to know everything they did first. So if you feel comfortable, please tell me, but if you don’t, that’s okay too.
I just want you to know I’m not going anywhere.
I promise. I’m here, Anna. We’re going to do this together. ”
I know he’s not lying. I know he’s being sincere, but fear gnaws at me.
“You wouldn’t last in prison,” I say, needing to lighten the situation and help dissolve the knot in my throat.
The anger melts off his face, and he scoffs with feigned offense. “I would last.”
“Let them hear that posh accent of yours and you’re done.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t have a posh accent. We’ve been over this. You’ve heard my father. Now that’s posh.”
“Sy, you do. It’s really—what?” I stare at him, puzzled, because his expression has changed to something tender, reminiscent.
“I never thought I’d hear you call me Sy again. I missed hearing you say that.” He sounds both devastated and relieved. Even if he didn’t, his eyes convey the emotions I was trying so hard to pretend weren’t there.
We’re done, I remind myself for the millionth time. Sylas being back means nothing to me. When he broke my heart, I had to fix it myself. I’m still not fully healed, so no matter what he says or how he looks at me, I’m not going to fall.
Not again.
Clearing my throat, I change the subject. “So, um, your mom…”
“Sylas already told you to leave him alone. Please don’t make me get a restraining order against you. I really like you, Anna, and would hate to do that.” Clara clicks her tongue, huffing a heavy breath.
I tell myself to keep it cool. I’m not usually a crier, but ever since I found out I was pregnant, my emotions have been all over the place.
“He’s the father of my child,” I grit. “He needs to—”
She grips my arm, manicured nails digging into my skin, and jerks me to the side. “Keep your voice low. You’re causing a scene.”
I tug my arm away, nostrils flaring as tears fog my vision. “I just need to talk to him. I need him to know that I’m pregnant.”
“Anna.” She smiles coyly, but her tone is patronizing. “We don’t even know if this baby is his. You have been away. We don’t know what you’ve been”—she gives me a once-over—“up to.”
Her words feel like a slap to the face. My face blisters, and hot tears cascade down. “You know more than anyone that is not the case. I’ve been busy with work and—”
“We know you’ve been…busy.”
Forget the slap, it feels like she stabbed me right in the heart. I furiously wipe the tears away. “I didn’t cheat on Sylas. I wouldn’t. I lo—”
“You used him. You used us. We welcomed you into our home. He welcomed you into his. He gave you money. Yes, we know about that. We know you stopped working and he was paying you to make up for it. And then I helped you get into the best culinary school there is. That was your plan all along, huh?” She scoffs, the sweetness she was exuding gone, replaced with malice.
“Without our help, you’d be nothing, but oh, you still are nothing.
” She inches closer until she’s looming over me.
“Stay the fuck away from my son. Don’t make me take drastic measures. ”
I share every detail with Sylas, every word she said to me, including how she threatened me with a security guard.
“I did attempt to come by one more time, but it’s like she had someone let her know I was there.
She and your dad showed up and she threatened me, said you’d take the baby if it turned out to be yours, and yeah…
Afterward, I figured you really wanted nothing to do with me, so I stopped trying.
I promised myself I’d stay away. I was on Instagram and your page came across my feed and I thought you were fucking with me, so I blocked you and anyone else I could think of. ”
Sylas doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even look at me this time. His hardened gaze is cast downward, jaw and brows set tight. He reclines back, dropping his head on the top of his sectional.
“I can’t believe—” He sighs a resigned breath, shoulders drooping. “No, I can, actually. Of course they did. They fucking would. I’m so sorry, Anna.”
“Please stop apologizing.” I mirror his position and finally he looks at me. “It sucks, but we can’t change anything about what happened. We just need to figure out what we do now. Okay?”
“We’re going to do this. You and me. I promise.”
“Yeah. You. Me. We’ll figure it out.”
He sulks at the way I phrased that, but he shakes that look away and nods. “Yeah, we will.”