Chapter 6 #2
Grace cleared her throat and Alix nearly melted at how adorable she was.
“No, I like it,” Alix said, not realizing she’d whispered until she heard it.
“Oh, okay,” Grace said, sounding thrown-off.
“But, just to put it out there, and not to pressure you into really inviting me or anything,” Alix added, unable to help herself. “But I do own a pair of stretchy pants with tiny turkeys on them because Phyllis thought it would be funny and I have no shame. So I would be appropriately attired.”
Grace made a smiling noise with her throat. “The court appreciates your preparedness.”
“There she is,” Alix said, delighted. “You lawyering today?”
“Always,” Grace said. “But today I’m also the person who sends Gatorade and hash browns to a glitter vampire. That and hanging out with the cats.”
“Working from home sounds delightful.”
Grace hummed a noise of affirmation and Alix smiled into the phone, thanking the cellular gods it wasn’t a video call this time, that Grace couldn’t see how bad she looked or smiley she felt.
“How’s your head?” Grace asked, breaking the tentative silence that had begun to stretch between them.
Alix took a much-needed sip of tea. “Your mother’s tea has saved my life. Please tell her she has my eternal gratitude and that, if she ever needs a haircut, I will fly to Miami and do it in her kitchen.”
“She will absolutely take you up on that,” Grace said. “She has had exactly two people cut her hair: her aunt, and my cousin who went to cosmetology school for three weeks. Adding a real professional to the list would be a boon.”
“Professional is such a generous word for someone who spends half her day talking people out of bangs.” The self-deprecation was a knee-jerk habit at this point.
A flinch. She knew she was good — she was booked out with loyal clients, her work Insta account was popular, and she was making the best money she ever had.
But some small part of her still knew she was settling, still knew that she was staying in a small pond for comfort.
And if she kept saying things like Oh it’s just hair, then the ache of never trying for more might someday fade away.
“That’s a public service.”
“See, I’ve been saying that, too.” Alix laughed, then groaned. “Can you die of a hangover?”
“You okay?” Grace asked, quieter. “I should let you rest. Or, you know, shower off the glitter.”
“It’s embedded,” Alix said grimly, looking at the tiny constellations on her arms. “It’s a part of me now, and I think we’d both just better accept that.”
“Like my IT department always says, consider it a feature, not a bug.”
Alix smiled into the phone until her cheeks ached. “I should probably sleep.”
“You should probably hydrate,” Grace corrected.
“I’m gonna do both. Look at me multitasking.”
“I’ll check in later,” Grace said.
“Okay.”
“Sleep well.”
“Hey, Grace?” Alix asked in a hushed voice.
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. Seriously. This is so kind.”
“It’s no problem,” Grace said quickly, but Alix thought that maybe on the other end of the line, she could feel Grace smiling, too.
Alix didn’t want to hang up. She did anyway, because some small, superstitious part of her believed in leaving good things untouched. The call had ended on laughter, warm and easy, and she didn’t want to press her luck.
She set the phone on the table and looked at the Postmates bag like it was a bouquet. They hadn’t exactly settled on Thanksgiving plans, but the past twenty-four hours had shifted something between them. They’d gone from screen names to faces, from jokes to gestures that carried weight.
Normally, that kind of reality would send Alix running. But with Grace, it felt different — steady in a way that didn’t scare her.
Outside, a leaf blower did its best to ruin the morning. Inside, a glitter vampire finished her mint tea and tried not to think too hard about the fact that someone three thousand miles away had considered her comfort before she did.
She caught herself wondering what she could send for Grace’s birthday. Something small. Thoughtful. Not too much.
By Tuesday, Alix had opened the flight search tab at least six times. Closed it every time.
At work, she leaned against the shampoo bowl while a client’s toner processed, scrolling prices on her phone.
LAX to Miami. The numbers looked reasonable until she pictured herself walking off that plane, showing up at someone else’s family holiday like she’d been invited to the big kids’ table by mistake.
She locked the screen and told herself she’d think about it later.
Later became Wednesday night at The Hollow, where Oscar was trying to convince the jukebox to play anything other than Journey.
She sipped her beer and stared at the glowing screen again.
Round trip, nonstop, carry-on only. Grace hadn’t brought it up since that call.
Maybe that meant something. Maybe it didn’t.
“Earth to Wolf,” Oscar said, snapping his fingers. “You’re up. What song?”
“Whatever doesn’t make me feel like I’m in an airport,” she muttered, flipping her phone face down.
By Thursday morning, the search was still sitting open on her laptop, tabs multiplying like fruit flies. Flights. Hotels. Google Maps of Miami, as if she could study her way into being brave enough to go.
She told herself she wasn’t overthinking it. Just… under-deciding.
By Friday night, she gave up pretending she hadn’t already decided.
The salon was closed, the floor swept, the smell of hairspray still hanging in the air. She sat in the back room with her laptop balanced on a towel-draped counter, cursor blinking like it was waiting for permission.
Miami. Thanksgiving. A few days, maybe four. She entered her card number before she could talk herself out of it. The confirmation email hit her inbox with the clean finality of a door clicking shut.
She stared at it for a long minute, then opened her messages.
Alix
So uh… what’s the Miami dress code for Thanksgiving?
Grace
Dangerously casual. Like “barefoot and full of carbs.”
Alix
Good. I just panic-bought a ticket.
A pause. Then the typing dots.
Grace
You’re kidding.
Alix
Is that okay?
Grace
You’d better let me pick you up from the airport.
Alix
I suppose I could allow it.
After she hit send, the room felt different. Lighter.
She closed the laptop and sat there a moment, the hum of the mini-fridge filling the silence.
Her pulse had that uneven rhythm of doing something bold after too many days of hesitation.
She ran a thumb over the faint shimmer still clinging to her wrist — ghost glitter, refusing to die — and let herself grin.
For once, Alix didn’t overthink it. She just sat there, imagining the heat of Miami, the salt, the sound of Grace’s laugh close enough to touch.