Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
ALIX
The walk home was quieter than it should’ve been.
The sun sagged low over the hills, painting everything in that lazy, golden light that made the whole world look more cinematic.
They walked side by side but didn’t touch.
Alix could feel the ghost of Grace’s hand near hers, could almost imagine the static of skin brushing skin, but neither of them reached.
Her body still hummed from the morning. From Grace’s mouth, her laugh.
But her chest felt too tight, too full. The realtor’s question echoed in her head: Are you newlyweds?
And her own smartass answer — the missus — was suddenly less of a joke and more of a goddamn vision.
It was so real, and she knew it’d absolutely break her to get her hopes up only to inevitably mess it all up.
She told herself she was overthinking. That this was just what she did.
She spun harmless moments into catastrophes.
But underneath the self-mockery sat the truth.
She was terrified. Terrified of how easy it had been to imagine a life with Grace.
Terrified that she wanted it. Terrified that they lived on opposite sides of the country and she’d fallen in love anyway.
Terrified of the next step, of what was always next.
She’d fuck everything up and let Grace down.
Inside, the house felt smaller, like the walls had shrunk while they were gone.
“That place was really beautiful,” Grace said finally, voice light, testing. “You could have an amazing studio in that guest house, you know.”
Alix’s throat tightened. “You mean if I ever got my shit together enough to own anything?”
Grace blinked, frowning. “That’s not what I—”
Alix cut her off with a smile that felt sharp at the edges. “Nah, I get it. I’d look cuter with a mortgage.”
The air went heavy. Grace didn’t answer, and Alix could practically hear the sound of herself screwing it up.
She started moving, couldn’t stop moving. Gathered coffee cups. Opened the window. Vigorously fed and mixed Phyllis’s sourdough starter. She could feel Grace’s eyes following her, patient and quiet, which only made her want to crawl out of her own skin.
Too fast. Too good. Too dangerous. She deserves someone with a solid net worth, not a roommate with a dinosaur hoodie.
Grace asked, “So, is this your thing?”
Alix froze mid-motion, the coffee cup she’d been rinsing clinking too loud against the sink. “My what?”
“Pushing people away when you get scared?”
A laugh burst out of her before she could stop it — too loud, too sharp. “You think that’s what this is?”
Grace didn’t even blink. Alix imagined this was how she looked in court. Calm, methodical, annoyingly correct. It was extremely attractive, which was infuriating given the circumstances.
“Isn’t it?” Grace asked.
Alix turned, crossing her arms so she wouldn’t fidget.
“What does the future even look like for us, huh?” The words came faster than she meant them to.
“You think I’m some kind of safe bet, but I’m not.
We live on opposite sides of the country, and so far it’s been really fun getting to know one another, but what happens when it’s missed calls and late nights at work and we just… fizzle out?”
Her voice cracked halfway through, the sound splitting the air. She hated how small it made her sound.
Grace stepped closer, steady as a tide. “You think you’re the only one scared? I came here because I am scared, and I’m still here.”
That landed in her chest like a stone dropped into water.
Alix’s heart thudded against her ribs, uneven and angry. Her skin felt too tight, her pulse too loud in her ears. She wanted to say something clever, to turn it into a joke, but nothing came.
She felt like she was watching herself from the ceiling — arms crossed, jaw tight, standing in her own kitchen with the best thing that had ever happened to her and somehow still finding the self-destruct button.
“I don’t…” She swallowed hard. “I don’t know how to do this, okay? This… thing.”
Grace blinked, but she didn’t move.
Alix kept talking, because silence meant thinking, and thinking meant feeling.
“Everyone leaves when they figure out what a fucking mess I am. That I can’t offer a house with a casita for your mom.
Or a stable career, or whatever grown-up version of myself I was supposed to be by now.
And you’ll leave, too. So let’s just skip it, yeah? ”
Her throat burned. Her palms itched. Every cell in her body was screaming run.
Grace’s voice was certain. “I’m not everyone. And this isn’t all about you.”
That stopped her cold. The words hung in the air, quiet but heavy.
Alix blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re not the only one with fear in this room. You don’t get to make me the villain in your preemptive breakup fantasy.”
A laugh escaped her, hollow and defensive. “Breakup fantasy? That’s a new one.”
Grace shook her head, exhaling through her nose like she was trying not to lose patience. “You’re scared, I get it. But you don’t get to decide how this ends without even giving it a chance to begin.”
The floor felt like it was tilting. Alix hated that she couldn’t think of a single comeback that didn’t sound like begging. Her pulse was a drumbeat of panic in her neck.
She dropped her gaze, voice smaller now. “But…”
Grace took another step closer, close enough that Alix could smell her floral perfume, feel the calm radiating off her like warmth from a sun she couldn’t look at directly.
“Alix,” Grace whispered. “I’m here. And I may live across the country right now, but we don’t have to figure that part out tonight. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
The steadiness in her tone undid everything Alix had built to protect herself. The walls, the sarcasm, the exit routes — gone. She felt her chest cave inward, the pressure behind her eyes giving way.
“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” Alix whispered.
“I do. I mean it.”
And just like that, she believed her. She trusted her. She loved her.
The tightness in her chest snapped, and the tears came hot and sudden. Embarrassing. Childish. She pressed her palms to her eyes like that would stop them, but it just made her shake harder.
Grace didn’t rush her. Didn’t reach for her. Just waited, calm and unshaken, until Alix finally dropped her hands.
“What are you so afraid of right now?” Grace asked, quiet but unyielding.
Alix exhaled, ragged. The words came out before she could think. “No one has ever loved me this way before.”
It wasn’t a plea. Just a truth she’d never said out loud.
Grace’s face softened in a way that made Alix’s stomach twist. “Yeah, well. No one’s ever made me feel like I wasn’t too much before.”
Alix let out a wet laugh that was mostly a sob. She stepped closer, close enough to see the gold in Grace’s hazel eyes, the freckle near her temple. Her thumb brushed Grace’s jaw, and Grace leaned into it.
Everything slowed. The hum of the city outside, the dimming light, the sound of their breathing syncing up.
“I love you,” Alix said. Her voice barely a whisper. No joke, no bravado. Just the truth. She said it again, reverent. “I love you and I am so scared to lose you.”
Grace’s breath caught. She nodded and pulled Alix down to her mouth. When they kissed, it wasn’t frantic or hungry. It was slow, certain, like a promise she didn’t know how to make any other way.
Grace’s hands found her waist. Alix’s fingers slid into her hair, tugging her closer, gentler than their first time but still insistent.
Alix pressed her forehead to Grace’s and thought, So this is what staying feels like.
Grace smiled against her mouth, and Alix felt the warmth of it flood through her. The fear was still there, but quieter now. It was something she could hold in her hands instead of running from.
Grace’s breath mingled with hers. The quiet between them wasn’t heavy anymore. It was warm, thrumming, filled with breaths and those little noises Grace made low in her throat when they kissed.
When Grace’s fingertips brushed the side of her face, Alix felt the smallest tremor run down her spine. The kind of touch that said You don’t have to bolt this time. She leaned in until their foreheads rested together.
“I love you,” Alix repeated. She’d never, ever get sick of saying that.
The next kiss built gradually, hesitant, then certain. Alix moved closer, hands sliding over the cotton of Grace’s shirt, every inch committed to memory.
The fear she’d carried all day loosened its grip, replaced by something steadier. She let herself feel the rise of Grace’s chest against her own, the flutter of her pulse under her palm.
“Hey,” Grace whispered, voice rough around the edges.
“Yeah.”
“I love you, too,” she said. “You…” Grace took a breath so deep it snatched the air from Alix’s lungs too. “Are more than enough exactly how you are.”
It was the gentlest undoing imaginable.
Alix caught Grace’s hips and lifted her easily onto the counter, the movement natural, sure.
They kissed as Alix fumbled off Grace’s jeans, both of them grinning and laughing through the awkward movements.
Grace tried to leave her underwear on, but Alix rolled her eyes and pulled those down right along with her jeans.
Grace kicked her feet until the jeans slid to the floor.
Alix’s hands lingered at her bare knees, sliding down, grounding herself in the warmth of skin and the rise of Grace’s breath.
Then she sank to her knees — not in surrender, but in reverence — looking up at her and feeling like Grace was something holy and close, something she’d spend the rest of her life learning by heart.
Grace’s hands threaded into Alix’s hair. “If you keep looking up at me like that without putting your mouth on me, I’m going to take matters into my own hands.”
“So impatient,” Alix said, grinning. She slid her hands up Grace’s thighs, reveling in the silken feel of Grace’s perfect skin. She’d never, ever, ever get enough of this.
“Alix,” Grace hissed, and Alix huffed another laugh.
She nipped at Grace’s inner thigh.
“I’m just thinking about my New Year’s resolution,” Alix said, letting her warm breath play across Grace’s molten center.
“Your… what?” Grace’s knuckles were white on the edge of the counter.
“My resolution is to do this at every opportunity. I think I could exist on this alone, honestly,” Alix said, sliding a finger over Grace’s entrance, up toward her clit.
“You won’t exist at all if I accidentally snap your neck with my thighs,” Grace said through clenched teeth.
Alix’s laugh was buried as she let her tongue draw a long, lazy line through Grace’s heat. Grace’s head tipped back against the cupboard. She tasted heavenly, sweet and rich, and Alix could feel her own damp underwear as she shifted, burying her mouth in Grace.
She traced a hand over Grace’s hip as Grace rocked against her mouth, and Alix let out a low moan of approval, licking and sucking, then sliding one, two fingers into Grace, curling her fingers in time with her tongue.
No frantic pace, no defense mechanisms. Just warmth, gravity, and the slow rhythm of two people finally exhaling.
When Alix’s name left Grace’s lips, it sounded like a promise.
And when she arched forward, crying out in climax and clenching around Alix’s fingers and mouth, Alix worked her through it until she relaxed, sliding forward until Alix caught her, the both of them landing in a spent puddle on the floor.
Later — minutes, hours, she couldn’t tell — they lay tangled together in Alix’s sheets under the dim light, skin damp, air still humming with heat. Grace’s head rested on Alix’s chest, her hand drawing idle patterns along her ribs.
Alix stared at the ceiling, half-dazed, her mind looping on the same impossible thought: that she could finally stop running. That she didn’t want to run anymore.
Outside, fireworks cracked, faint and far away. Grace murmured something she couldn’t quite catch, but Alix understood anyway. She turned her head, kissed the crown of Grace’s hair, and whispered into the quiet, “Happy New Year.”
Grace smiled against her skin. “Happy New Year. This is gonna be the best one yet, I can tell.”
Alix let her eyes fall shut. For the first time in years, she didn’t brace for the crash after the spark.
She believed — quietly, fiercely, somewhere deep within her soul — that something good had finally decided to stay.
And with that steadiness, they could find their way through any obstacle. Together.