Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
ALIX
Alix was still reeling from the dance floor.
She could feel Grace’s palm at her hip like a brand, the ghost of her fingers at the back of her neck, the phantom press of a thigh sliding between hers for the briefest half beat.
The whole house was shaking with music, but Alix’s pulse had been louder.
She’d been a single wrong step from closing that final inch and kissing Grace.
Now, walking through Grace’s mother’s kitchen, she told herself to get a grip.
She hadn’t kissed Grace. She hadn’t crossed the line.
But God, she’d wanted to. It had been a long time since wanting felt this sharp, this uncontrollable.
Kirstin had been easy to read, and wanting her had been a choice.
With Grace, it felt like she’d been swept into a riptide, too forceful to escape now.
Grace’s cousins were clustered by the counter, leaning against cabinets, cups in hand. Teresa, the one with hair teased high and hoops that could double as bracelets, looked Alix up and down. “Bold move, bringing a vegan girl to Thanksgiving.”
The comment was tossed like a dart, casual and teasing, but Alix caught the flash of tension in Grace’s shoulders, the way she looked ready to shrink from the heat of the spotlight.
Alix’s instinct to protect came out before she could think better of it. She widened her grin, lifting her arms like she was hosting a game show. “Oh, come on. I’m the dream guest. More pork for you guys. More leftovers to pack up. I’m basically a Thanksgiving multiplier.”
Laughter rippled through the group, loud and warm, defusing the moment. Grace’s posture loosened, her expression flickering between relief and disbelief. Alix winked at her like she’d meant to be that smooth. Inside, she was buzzing.
She wanted Grace to see she wasn’t a liability. She wanted to belong here, wanted to be accepted by these loud, affectionate people because it would make Grace’s eyes fill with that tender warmth again.
Except Alix knew that wanting that — wanting her — was a dangerous slope.
Even as she tried to pull apart the threads of Grace’s mannerisms and words and micro-expressions to embroider a future, she knew that ultimately, they were two emotionally unavailable women looking for friendship.
She wasn’t going to ruin that. At least not first.
Later, Grace was pulled into a conversation with an uncle muttering something about off-the-record legal advice, leaving Alix standing at the food table with Connie. Grace’s mother had presence; she radiated the kind of authority that made Alix sit straighter without being told.
“Fill your plate,” Connie said, pressing a plate into her hands before she could protest.
Alix hesitated. “Uh, which ones are safe for me?”
“They’re all safe.” Connie nodded solemnly. “Vegan, right? I’m sure you’ve never tasted anything like this.”
Alix blinked. “Really?” She eyed the table. “This is all vegan?” She remembered the beans that Grace had gotten for her at the moonlighting KFC… She’d been suspicious then, but how could she be suspicious of Grace’s mom now?
Connie pointed to each dish in turn, narrating like a tour guide. “Rice and beans. Vegan. Yuca with mojo. Vegan. Avocado salad. Vegan. Plantains. Vegan.” Finally, she gestured to the glossy pile of fried pork rinds. “Chicharrones. Vegan.”
Alix froze, plate in hand. She knew what pork looked like, had even grown up in a family of fervent carnivores, but Connie’s expression was so steady, so confident, it was easier to believe her than to question it. Grace’s mom wouldn’t lie, would she?
And God, the last thing she wanted was to be the picky outsider. Vegan people were always so annoying to non-vegans, and she was extremely self-conscious of her eating habits in this space. She wanted to be easy, someone Grace’s family liked. Someone who made things simpler, not harder.
So she nodded and dug in.
The first bite of chicharrón made her knees weak. It was hard to tear initially, but then it shattered in her mouth, salty and smoky and decadent. She almost moaned, clamping her lips shut. “Oh wow,” she whispered. “This is unreal.”
Connie beamed. “See? Vegan.”
Alix wanted to believe it. She wanted to trust the warmth in Connie’s eyes, to imagine that for once the world had conspired to make something easy.
Her ease lasted only three more seconds.
Connie set down her wineglass and gave Alix a look that was both friendly and mildly terrifying. “So,” she said, drawing out the word like it had weight. “You and my daughter.”
Alix nearly choked on a bite of beans. “Me and your — oh. Oh. We’re just friends, I promise.”
Connie smiled, entirely too calm.
Alix put her fork down, trying to play it cool and failing. “We’re both going through similar life things, so it’s been nice talking to her and getting to know her. It’s… She’s…” She gave up and exhaled. “Your daughter is kind of amazing, if I’m being honest.”
Connie laughed with clear affection, pleased but unsurprised. “She always has been. Even when she was little. She used to organize the other kids at the park into committees. Had clipboards.”
“Of course she did,” Alix said, grinning. “I can absolutely see that.”
“She’s a handful sometimes,” Connie said, tilting her head.
“Yeah,” Alix said, a little too quickly. “But in a good way. Like, the best kind. She makes you want to keep up.”
Connie studied her for a beat, eyes kind but sharp. “That sounds like someone who knows what she’s getting into.”
Alix felt her pulse tick upward. “Again, just friends. Grace is… well, Grace. She’s steady. Smart. The kind of person who makes everything around her feel intentional. You start to think more before you speak, just because she’s listening.”
Connie smiled again, this time softer. “That’s a good way to put it.”
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the sound of laughter spilling in from the kitchen.
Finally, Connie leaned in a little. “I like you, Alix. You seem good for her.”
Alix blinked, unsure what to do with that. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
Connie chuckled. “Don’t tell Grace I said it. I’ll deny everything.”
Alix laughed, relief and something warmer threading through it. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
By the time Grace returned, Alix’s plate was stacked like a leaning tower of food. She shoveled sweet, crunchy plantain chips into her mouth between conversations, her stomach growling happily.
Grace dropped into the chair beside her, cheeks pink, eyes a little glassy. She looked relaxed for the first time all day.
“You okay?” Alix asked quietly.
Grace nodded, smiling. “Yeah. It’s… actually kind of nice now. Everything feels floaty. Like I’m wrapped in bubble wrap.” She chugged her water, sighing in satisfaction.
Alix laughed, relieved. “You deserve bubble wrap. That sounds nice.”
Grace smirked but didn’t deny it. Her gaze flicked down to Alix’s plate. “How’s the food?”
“Incredible,” Alix said honestly. “Your mom is a genius. And it’s all vegan, isn’t that crazy?”
Grace’s brow furrowed. “Wait. What exactly did you eat?”
Alix rattled it off: Rice and beans. Yuca with mojo. Avocado salad. Plantains. Chicharrones.
“Chicharrones?” Grace repeated slowly, then her eyes went wide. “Oh my God. Alix. That was pork.”
The world tilted. Alix set down her fork, stomach suddenly lurching. “No. No, no. She said it was vegan.”
Grace buried her face in her hands. “I think her understanding of the word vegan was a little off. She always does this. She once told my college roommate that blood sausage was a vitamin supplement.”
Alix’s stomach gave a low, menacing growl. “I ate… so much.”
“And you’re still alive.” Grace rubbed her arm, voice soothing. “It’s fine. You didn’t know.”
“It was… really good,” Alix admitted in a whisper, horrified by her own honesty. “Like, insanely good. Am I still vegan if I liked it?”
Grace bit her lip, clearly fighting laughter. “You’re allowed one relapse on Cuban Thanksgiving.”
Alix groaned, dropping her forehead to the table. “Don’t tell Phyllis. She’ll hold a candlelight vigil and revoke my kombucha card.”
The more she thought about it, the worse her stomach felt. She’d been vegan for nearly ten years now, and the greasy heaviness sat in her stomach like a lead weight. Was she sweating? Were these the meat sweats?
She wanted to laugh it off, but the queasy churn wouldn’t let her. Her stomach gave a menacing noise, a warrior’s cry before charging headfirst into battle. Alix immediately worried about where that battleground might land her. She glanced around for any sign of the nearest bathroom.
Grace must have seen the shift in her face, because she leaned close, her voice low. “Do you want to go?”
“I’m fine,” Alix said. “We can stay.” Yes, her upper lip was sweating. She shifted in her chair, praying to whatever saint was in charge of intestinal distress.
Grace eyed her. “You don’t look so good.”
“No, I’m just a little warm,” Alix said, her body shivering with a sudden chill.
No, she would not be the woman who had had extremely unpleasant bathroom time at her friend’s mother’s house on Thanksgiving Day surrounded by approximately one thousand strangers.
She sipped water, shifting in her seat again.
“Alix, we’re going,” Grace said, taking her hand.
Alix nodded in defeat.
They slipped out like teenagers sneaking away, laughter and music muffled as the Uber pulled from the curb.
The good thing about being one of a thousand guests at Thanksgiving meant that no one would immediately notice their absence.
Alix slumped against the door, one arm wrapped around her middle.
“Did your mom just play the meanest prank on me?”
Grace chuckled, reaching across to take her hand. “She fed you. That’s not a prank.”
“My stomach disagrees.” Alix groaned dramatically. “This is how I die. Tell Phyllis I loved her. Tell Sylvia not to let the haunted doll near my body.”
Grace laughed, squeezing her fingers. “You’re ridiculous. You’ll be fine.” She pulled her phone out, typing with one hand, an impressive feat that had intriguing implications, but Alix was too far gone into Tummy Ache Survival.
Alix looked up, catching the glowing light from a streetlamp on Grace’s face. She looked calmer now, her edges smoothed out, her smile tugged loose by the brownie still working through her system.
Alix’s chest ached. God, she wished she could stay here forever — in the silly, tender pocket where Grace’s thumb stroked her knuckles, where every line of worry had disappeared from her brow.
“I ordered you Imodium and Gas X to be delivered to Tia Sylvia’s,” Grace said, which was not quite the romantic phrase Alix had been wanting to hear, and yet it did have a certain air of tender I’ll take care of you beneath it.
“Thank you,” Alix whispered.
She wanted to say more, wanted to spill everything she’d been holding back since the pool. But she bit down on it, letting the silence swell instead. Grace didn’t let go of her hand.
By the time they reached Sylvia’s, Alix’s stomach was in open rebellion, but Grace guided her inside, then loudly proclaimed she was going to take Baby outside for a walk, giving Alix the privacy to run to Sylvia’s bathroom.
When Alix emerged, Grace settled her onto the pullout couch and pressed a small bottle of Gatorade into her hand. Baby even seemed to sense the gravity of the situation, leaning his head against Alix’s leg.
“Do you feel better?” Grace asked
Alix nodded, cheeks warm in embarrassment.
“You wouldn’t be the first to fall prey to rich food. I’ve done it so many times,” Grace said lightly, and Alix contemplated crawling under the couch to die right then and there.
“I’m so sorry,” Alix murmured, embarrassed by how weak she sounded.
“I’m so sorry,” Grace said simply.
Grace comfortingly brushed her hand through Alix’s hair, and Alix let her eyes fall closed. “Will you just sit with me for a while?” Alix asked, the question feeling more like a confession than she’d intended.
Grace’s fingers grazed her temple as she said, hushed, “You can relax. I’m not going anywhere.”