Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
ALIX
Alix hated airports on a good day, but Denver’s weird-ass airport really took the cake in terms of inconvenience.
It was somehow both huge and always crowded, constantly under construction, and covered in strange tent tops, ever persistent in its pursuit of capturing the ambiance of the terrible circus that was airline travel.
Grace’s hand was warm in hers as they stood near the Concourse A windows, snow feathering the tarmac like someone had cut open a pillow.
They’d already circled the concourse twice under the pretense of finding better coffee, then settled for something that tasted like brown water and anxiety.
Every line felt like a countdown. Every sip felt like avoidance.
“Okay,” Alix said, because saying nothing made the ache in her throat louder. “Pitch: I can hide in your carry-on to Miami. You poke air holes in the bag. We save on airfare.”
Grace’s mouth curved. Her hazel eyes did that soft-warm thing that made Alix feel like she’d stepped into a lamp’s circle of light. “Tempting. But I think most airlines frown on living cargo.”
“They also frown on being drunk on a plane,” Alix said, “and I’ve broken that rule at least four times.”
Grace laughed, then exhaled, and the sound went quiet at the end, like she’d put a hand over her mouth. She glanced at the departure board, at the snow fattening outside. “Your gate’s Concourse C, right?”
Alix nodded, suddenly interested in the cracked top of her coffee lid.
Grace’s fingers tightened around hers for a heartbeat, then loosened. “We should…”
“Yeah,” Alix echoed, because neither of them had invented a way to stop time.
They didn’t walk so much as hover toward Grace’s gate, side by side like they were keeping balance on ice. When the line began to form and people started doing that anxious shuffle that said none of us trust the concept of assigned seating, Alix forced herself to turn and face her.
Grace’s hair was still a little wavy from sleeping on it damp, her normally sleek hairstyle softened by the cut she’d entrusted Alix with.
She’d put on lip balm while they were sitting, and the faint shine made Alix’s chest pull tight.
This was ridiculous. It was an airport. People said goodbye at airports every day.
People survived it. She could survive it.
“You’re going to text me when you land,” Alix said, trying to sound like a person with a normal heart rate.
Grace nodded. “When you get home, send me a picture of Phyllis.”
“I’ll bribe her.” Alix smiled but felt the edges of it wobble. “God, I’m being a baby.”
Grace stepped closer until there was no reason to reach because they were already in each other’s arms. “You’re being a person I’m going to miss, and it’s very cute.”
“Cool,” Alix said, voice wrecked. “Okay.”
The announcement droned about a small delay in boarding. People shuffled. Someone’s roller bag tried to amputate Alix’s ankle. None of it mattered, because Grace’s hand slid up the back of her neck, fingers warm, and then Grace kissed her.
It wasn’t a quick airport peck. It was long enough that Alix forgot the world around them existed, letting everything fade.
Grace tasted like coffee and winter air.
Her mouth moved like a promise. Alix curled a hand around Grace’s waist and held on, feeling the clean slide of fabric under her fingertips, the little smile that happened in the middle of the kiss like they couldn’t help it.
When they broke apart, Grace’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glossy. “You should go find your gate before I rip off your clothes or have a full breakdown in public,” she whispered, like the words themselves were fragile.
“Yeah.” Alix swallowed. “Okay.”
One more press of foreheads. One more swipe of thumbs.
Outside, the snow was no longer feathers.
It was confetti. The kind that dampened everything and refused to stop.
Concourse A blurred into a slow-motion documentary.
She waved. She told herself to pull herself together.
She managed to, but only just enough to turn away and walk, dazed, back toward the train for Concourse C.
Her mind drifted to saying goodbye to her family that morning, just for an extra kick of melancholy to add to the current moment. Her dad had hugged her, her mom had cried. She’d promised to visit again soon, and strangely, she meant it.
She had at least an hour until boarding began, and she rode the train to Concourse C, then wandered into a bookstore.
She touched spines. She stared at covers.
She picked up a thriller and read the first sentence four times without absorbing a single word.
Everything smelled like paper and peppermint.
A display of novelty mugs had one that read I LEFT MY HEART IN COLORADO. She snapped a picture and typed:
Alix
too soon?
Three dots. Then a crying-laugh emoji and a little pink heart. It loosened something under her ribs.
She set the thriller down and paced the aisle between cooking and travel, trying to remember how to be a person who didn’t count seconds between texts. The announcements turned a little sharper.
Her phone buzzed.
Grace
They just made an announcement we’re delayed for a while. Snow’s really coming down.
Alix
DIA said “let’s make travel even worse.”
Grace
People are panicking. I forgot how much I hate everyone and everything.
Alix
Want me to come back and bring you a snack?
A few minutes stretched and snapped. Another buzz.
Grace
What the fuck? They just CANCELED my flight. They’re saying maybe tomorrow morning. I’m going to baggage claim to grab my bags and then figure out rebooking.
Alix’s pulse hit a button in her throat. She looked down at her carry-on. She thought about the snow. About the glass tunnel connecting the main terminal to the Westin hotel like a sci-fi artery. About the fact that she’d never slept so well as she had with Grace.
The idea struck like static and caffeine. Her fingers were already dialing before she recognized it for what it was: a plan disguised as an impulse.
Grace answered on the second ring. Her voice was paper-thin and brave. “Hey.”
“Grace,” Alix said, breathless and grinning even though nothing had happened yet. “This is a sign.”
“That I’m destined to live in this godforsaken airport?” The smile in Grace’s voice was real but frayed.
“That the universe is tired of us being responsible.” Alix started walking, weaving through a herd clustered around a departures screen. “We’re not rebooking. We’re getting a fucking hotel room.”
There was the tiniest beat. Then, “Alix…”
“I’ll rebook. I don’t care. I have my carry-on. They can put me on something tomorrow.” She talked faster, joy kicking up like fresh snow. “Meet me at baggage claim. We’ll try the Westin before the entire state of Colorado gets the same idea.”
Grace’s laughter came out half-disbelieving, half-relieved. “You’re serious.”
“I’m almost never serious,” Alix said, breath puffing as she power-walked toward the train, “but when I am, it’s for good things.”
“Okay, yes,” Grace said, the word clear and certain. “Baggage claim.”
The train hissed into the station and Alix hopped on, heart ricocheting around her like it had been let off leash.
People were bundled and annoyed and tugging their coats tighter.
She was light. The cement of the tunnel flashed by, and she caught her reflection in the train window, unashamedly smiling.
Baggage claim was a churn of puffer jackets and resigned sighs. And then, there she was. Grace, standing near a carousel sign, coat collar up, hair tucked behind one ear, scanning the crowd with that focused, efficient lawyer face that made Alix want to both salivate and write poetry.
They saw each other at the same time. Grace’s shoulders relaxed like someone had removed twenty pounds from them. Alix didn’t slow down. She barreled right into a hug that lifted Grace onto the balls of her feet and knocked a laugh out of both of them.
“Hi,” Grace said into her shoulder, voice warmer than the whole terminal.
“Hi.” Alix stepped back enough to see her face. “You ready?”
“Deeply ready.”
They set off at a near-jog toward the corridor to the hotel, dodging rolling duffels and a child dragging a stuffed llama.
The hotel’s lobby was a hum of stranded travelers trying to make best-case scenarios out of bad timing.
Planters full of winter greens, floor-to-ceiling glass, that weird airport-hotel scent of citrus and disinfectant.
At the front desk, the clerk’s smile was polished and kind, her eyes carrying the faint panic of a person who had been saying I’m so sorry for two hours straight. “We’re experiencing extremely limited availability due to the storm—”
“We’ll take anything,” Grace said, composure back on like lipstick.
“Any room,” Alix added, already digging for her wallet. “Any price.”
Grace slammed a gold American Express on the counter, practically screeching as she repeated, “Any price.”
The clerk’s mouth twitched like she wanted to be human about it but her professionalism stopped her. She typed. She frowned. She typed again. “I do have one mid-level suite on hold that was just released.”
“Yes,” they said in unison, then looked at each other and had to swallow laughter.
“Two keys?” the clerk asked.
“Please,” Grace said. Her palms were faintly pink like she’d been rubbing them together. Alix wanted to kiss the heat back into them.
Moments later, the elevator doors slid shut and Alix reached without deciding to, fingers finding the lapel of Grace’s coat, tugging her that last inch closer. Grace came willingly, hands sliding up Alix’s arms, and then they were kissing.
It started like it always did with them now, a tiny touch that felt like stepping off a cliff into clouds. Grace’s mouth was sure, patient for one heartbeat and then not patient at all. She tilted her head and the angle changed and heat licked up Alix’s spine.
Grace’s fingers curled at the base of Alix’s neck, a gentle hold that made her entire body hum like a plucked string.
Alix’s hands found Grace’s waist and learned the familiar shape of it again, the way she fit there like the universe had provided her exact measurements.
When Grace’s thumb stroked once along the hinge of her jaw, Alix made a small sound she hoped the elevator’s security camera would forgive.
The bell dinged. Neither of them moved. The doors opened, then politely closed again like the building was embarrassed to intrude.
They staggered out on the second ding, laughing, breathless, still entangled, and stumbled down the thick-carpeted hallway. Alix fumbled the key card twice, and when the green light finally clicked, she was already half-turned toward Grace, magnetic north found and making demands.
They made it three steps into the suite.
A blur of coats and scarves and gloves landed on a chair like a small storm had passed through.
The room was all clean lines and big windows, the snow outside so close it felt like you could breathe it.
Alix was only aware of one thing: Grace, warm and laughing under her hands, looking at her like she was equal parts trouble and relief.
“Hi again,” Grace murmured, their mouths already close enough that the word brushed Alix’s lip.
“Hi again,” Alix said, and kissed her.
This kiss had gravity. It deepened the second their mouths found each other, that shared exhale that always felt like falling and catching at once. Alix tasted something sweeter now. Maybe just the wild rush of getting exactly what she wanted.
She backed Grace gently toward the bed, pausing as she murmured, “Is this okay?” against Grace’s lips.
“Yes.” Grace sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Alix down with her until she pinned Grace, pausing a moment to gaze down at the absolutely stunning woman below her.
“Okay, good, I’m glad we’re in agreement because I am absolutely desperate to fuck you,” Alix said.
Grace smirked as her hands slid under the hem of Alix’s sweater, a delicate exploratory warmth that made Alix’s knees consider giving out.
“Now that you’re finally not wearing that godforsaken flannel nightgown. ”
“I loved that thing. I’m considering buying at least a dozen.”
“Flannel in Miami. Go for it, babe,” Alix teased, nipping at Grace’s lips.
She paused and tucked a strand of Grace’s hair behind her ear, letting her fingers trail to the vulnerable place under her jaw, feeling the jump of her pulse there. Grace leaned into the touch like a cat, eyes half-lidded, a smile threatening the corners of her mouth.
“Grace,” Alix said, because sometimes saying her name was the only way to make the moment hold still.
“Mmm?” Grace’s voice was velvet and smirk, raw around the edges.
“I like you a lot.” The words tumbled out, unpolished and true.
Grace’s laugh was warm and shaky. “That’s fortunate. I like you a lot too.”
They kissed again, slower for a beat, and the slowness was somehow hotter.
Alix dragged her fingers up Grace’s sides under her shirt, memorizing the topography.
Ribs, the elegant dip of her waist, the flutter of breath when Alix’s thumbs skimmed the edge of her bra.
She found her peaked nipple through the flimsy fabric.
Grace’s hands mapped her right back, careful at first and then bolder as she grew more familiar.
Alix had a brief, ludicrous flash of gratitude toward the storm. Toward the canceled flights and the overpriced coffee and the slow escalator. All roads had led to this warm, stupidly expensive, glorious room.
She wasn’t much for signs. But sometimes the universe didn’t bother with subtlety. Sometimes it snowed so hard there was nothing to do but stay where it was warm.