Page 23 of Overdosed: Her Dark Side
“We could arrange everything in two weeks.”
Anders smirked viciously. “I want to marry you on my brother’s birthday, so he never forgets that day.”
The next few days passed rather uneventfully. Anders told me that Shane was on a business trip to Italy, which probably was the reason for the temporary calm. It was a welcome break. Anders officially moved in with us, but his presence was barely felt. The residence was spacious, and he occupied a room on the opposite side. It allowed us to maintain a considerable distance. Occasionally, we shared meals. I was pleased to see Anders bonding well with Hope. Seeing them play together brought a smile to my face. I started noticing a different side of Anders that seemed entirely unfamiliar, perhaps even to himself.
“Hey there, little princess.” Anders’ surprisingly warm voice caught my attention. He stepped into the kitchen after a day at work. He was still wearing his black suit and carrying a leather bag in his left hand.
I glanced at him and smiled. He threw the bag aside and knelt to greet Hope. She eagerly ran to him with joy written all over her face. It was a nice sight.
“How was your day?” Anders hugged Hope tightly. Then he picked her up and carried her in his arms toward the kitchen island where I was chopping vegetables for dinner. We exchanged a silent smile before his attention shifted back to Hope. “What were you doing, princess?”
He playfully touched her chin, and she laughed. “Playing,” she said, still giggling.
I observed them, laughter and play filling the room, and couldn’t shake off the sense of guilt. Guilt that Hope would get attached to him a little too much. That she would miss him after we left New York. I wasn’t sure if what I was doing was right for my daughter. And despite everything I’d been doing, I’d been doing it for her. Then why didn’t it feel right?
After dinner, I took care of the dishes while Anders continued to play with Hope. I started noticing that, in his own way, he cared for her deeply. To an outsider, we might’ve appeared as a typical, loving family. Given the circumstances, it felt disturbingly wrong. And I... I couldn’t stop wondering how my life would look like with Shane by my side. What kind of a father he would be.
I guess I’ll never know.
“Alright, Hope.” I walked over to them and settled on the living room’s furry white carpet. “Let’s go. Mommy will put you to bed with a story, hm?” I smiled as I lifted her.
“Yay!” Hope exclaimed with delight. “About a princess?” she asked with her cute, girlish voice, struggling to pronounce the word correctly, which sounded so endearing it instantly brought a smile to my face.
“A story about a princess for my little precious princess herself.” I planted a soft kiss on her forehead and carried her to the bedroom.
Hope drifted into a peaceful slumber after two tales and lots of cuddles. Now I needed a moment for myself. A refreshing face mask, a bit of pampering, and a long, soothing bath. Eventually, I find myself drowning in Shane’s shirt once more. Yes, the very one I left in three years before. I still wasn’t sure why I kept that shirt. I should’ve thrown it away long ago. And yet, even after the dreadful incident with Karl that left the shirt stained with blood, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. Instead, I did everything I could to restore its cleanliness. As if the shirt became my sort of totem. Perhaps, because it was my only connection to life that was once mine. A life in which I had it all. When I was happy.
Wrapped in the cotton shirt with my hair still damp and cascading down my shoulders, I headed to my bedroom. I was idly browsing through random news on my phone. Every time I did, deep down, I secretly wished to stumble upon something related to Shane. A message, perhaps.
Why do my thoughts keep coming back to him?
I knew I had to stay away from that man. Yet my mind stubbornly clung to memories of him. The shared a kiss in his office. The warmth of his breath across my neck that I could swear still lingered on my skin. His husky voice, and those hypnotic blue eyes.
“Melanie, can I come in?” Anders’s hushed voice jolted me from my reverie and made me jump. It felt almost as if I were caught red-handed doing something forbidden.
“Come on in.” I cleared my throat, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. My cheeks were flushed.
Anders entered with a glass of wine in one hand and a Scotch in the other, offering me a faint smile. “I thought it’d be nice to have a drink together. Talk.” His typically cold and wicked tone was replaced by a softer warmth. “We live together, and we barely interact with each other.”
He sat in a plush cream chair, elegantly complementing the modern yet tasteful decor, opposite my bed and near the expansive window covered by drapes in the same shade. My brow raised slightly as I accepted the glass. I was suspicious of the change in him. Or perhaps, surprised.
“Very well. Is there anything you want to talk about?” I sat on the edge of my bed, taking a long sip of the red wine. I liked the taste. My gaze remained fixed on Anders. He seemed different this evening. I assessed his body. His white shirt was slightly unbuttoned, hanging over his denim pants. But it wasn’t that. It wasn’t just the casual outfit. There was some sort of vulnerability emanating from him that night.
His eyes darted away momentarily as he took a deep breath. “Listen, I’m not very good at that kind of talk, so I’ll just…” He hesitated, his lips pressing together as if contemplating his words. “You’re giving me a glimpse of what it feels like to have a family... children. Something I’ll never have.”
My brows knitted. I tried to understand what he meant.
“You’re still so young. You’ll have a family one day,” I reassured, but Anders let out a weighted breath.
“I’m sterile. I’ll never be able to have my own children.” He downed his whiskey in a single gulp.
“I’m sorry.” What could be said in a situation like this? “How do you know it? Is it certain?” I asked quietly, and Anders nodded with regret.
“I found out during one of the medical check-ups. Then, I double-checked with a specialist. I guess having a family was never in the cards for me,” he stated, avoiding my gaze.
Abruptly, he rose from the chair and turned to face the window. He pushed aside the drapes, fixating his gaze on a distant landscape or the brightly lit full moon. I couldn’t tell. “Hope has given me a taste of what it would look like to be a father,” he whispered, almost as if speaking to himself.
I felt so sorry. So sad. Not everyone wanted to have children, but he clearly wanted it, and that was why it was even more saddening. I put the wine on the nightstand beside my bed and approached him, placing my hand on his back. “You can still have a family. Children too.” My voice was gentle.
