35. Bex #3
Eventually, Jordan reaches over to top off everyone's mugs with more hot water. "Well," they say, an air of finality in their voice, "whatever happens, we'll manage. Right?"
Sofia gives a determined nod. "Right."
Kit and I both nod too, exchanging a glance that says: we're doing this.
We stay another hour, walking Sofia and Jordan through the day-to-day details, letting them poke fun at the chaotic timeline. Sofia teases Kit about her penchant for color-coding. Jordan teases me about not being able to handle my own mother on the phone. It's good, grounding.
But behind the laughter, a sense of inevitability hums. My parents will find out soon, and not in the slow, easy way I originally envisioned.
By the time we leave, the sun has set enough that the streetlamps are clicking on. Sofia walks us to the door, hugging me tight and then offering Kit a quick, warm embrace. Jordan gives us both grins that read as conspiratorial.
"Text me if you need anything," Sofia says, glancing between me and Kit. "We're on your side."
Kit smiles, a touch relieved. "Thank you."
Then we're out on the stoop, breathing in the crisp Brooklyn air. I realize I'm still holding Kit's hand, somewhere in the last thirty minutes I'd grabbed it for support and never let go.
We walk down the steps. She doesn't bring it up, so I don't let go.
Half a block away, we pause under a flickering streetlight. The wind teases a loose strand of Kit's hair against her cheek. I reach up to tuck it back, the gesture feeling oddly intimate.
She exhales, then gives me a bashful expression that makes my chest squeeze. "That went better than I'd imagined," she says softly.
I nod. "Yeah. For sure. My sister took it better than I expected."
Kit lets out a small laugh. "She definitely tried not to laugh, emphasis on tried."
I shrug. "We're a family of stress-laughers. It's a coping mechanism."
Kit's eyes glint, and for a moment she looks like she might tease me. Instead she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, gaze darting back toward Sofia's building. "I still can't believe your mom called in the middle of everything," she murmurs.
"Yeah, that's typical." I sigh. "But hey, that's part of the package, right?"
She reaches out, looping an arm around my back to pull me closer. "Part of it," she agrees. "Anyway, hopefully we can find a gentle way to break the news next time."
I snort. "Gentle is relative. More like invite them to dinner and hope they don't flip the table. But if Sofia's right, maybe it won't be so dramatic."
Kit's lips curve, and she cups my cheek, leaning in for a quick, warm press of a kiss. It's so casually done that it steals my breath more than any heated moment. We're just in the street, under a half-broken lamp, and her mouth presses to mine like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"You okay?" she asks when she pulls back.
I nod, lingering close. "Yeah. Actually, yeah."
We start walking, aiming for the subway station a few blocks away, hand in hand. Halfway there, though, she pauses, brows furrowed. "If you'd rather go to your place, we can. I didn't want to assume."
Her voice trails off, that polite second-guessing creeping in.
I tap her hand, letting a grin slip onto my face. "C'mon, Bennett. You have that last train home, right? So either we hustle to catch it, or you stay with me. I'm voting for the latter."
Her shoulders ease. "I'd love to stay," she admits sheepishly.
It isn't a question anymore, Kit's been in my apartment multiple times these past two weeks. But naming it makes it real.
We keep walking under the glow of streetlights, the city noise swelling around us. It isn't a parade or a wedding band, it's just Brooklyn doing its usual weekend clamor: cars honking, people shouting from stoops, random music bumping from open windows. To me it feels like home.
Kit's jacket brushes against my arm, and I notice the detail: one of her cuffs has a small tear in the lining.
Nothing huge, just a little fray that probably got snagged somewhere.
She'd normally fix that sort of thing in a heartbeat, but maybe she hasn't noticed.
Or maybe she has bigger things on her mind.
I file that detail away. Possibly a sign she's letting things be a little messy. Either that or she'll treat it as one more item on her color-coded to-do list. Both possibilities make me smile.
"Penny for your thoughts," she says, eyeing me.
I shrug. "Just happy you're here," I answer, letting it sound as honest as it feels.
She squeezes my hand.
We descend into the subway station, ignoring the hustle around us, ignoring the flicker of fluorescent lights overhead. I'm not sure exactly how the conversation with my parents will shake out or if my mother will call again tonight. But for now, that's tomorrow's problem.
As we board the train, I pull Kit closer, letting the jostle of the crowd press us together. She locks one hand around the pole, bracing us both. I catch her whisper of breath near my ear and feel an unexpected warmth spread through my chest.
We're in motion, literally and otherwise, and that's enough.