Chapter 35
TARA
Aweek after my birthday, I’m wiping down the bar at Luzia, enjoying the quieter vibe of term-time shifts.
The club feels different now—lighter, freer, mine again.
James is gone, and with him, the weight of feeling like I was constantly being watched, constantly trying to make myself smaller to avoid his attention.
Turns out I wasn’t the first employee to report his behavior, just the last straw.
I’m wiping down the bar when I spot a familiar head of strawberry-blonde hair weaving through the crowd. Ethan’s grinning like an idiot, fingers laced with Paige’s as he tugs her toward me.
“Tara!” He practically vibrates with excitement. “Had to show my girl where all the magic happens.”
Paige rolls her eyes. “He means he wanted to brag about knowing the bartender.”
I smirk, but my attention catches on the way she leans into him without thinking, the way his thumb absently traces circles against her wrist. There’s something easy between them, like they’ve skipped the awkward figuring-each-other-out stage and landed straight in this just makes sense.
“What can I get you?” I ask, already reaching for the top-shelf vodka Ethan likes.
“Actually,” Paige says, straightening with excitement, “you should try the Japanese whiskey - the molecular composition of the congeners means less chance of a hangover. It's fascinating really, the way the distillation process affects the—”
She launches into an explanation about organic compounds that makes Ethan's entire face soften.
I catch his eye as I mix the drinks with the whiskey. He mouths she’s so smart behind her back, completely awestruck. I have to fight back a laugh. Of all of us, who would’ve guessed Ethan would be the most obviously, hopelessly smitten?
“Tara!” Becky calls from the office. “Got a sec?”
I leave them at the bar, Paige still enthusiastically explaining something about molecular structures while Ethan watches her like she's explaining the most fascinating topic in the world. Which for him, until recently, I would've assumed was how to achieve a perfect score in Mario Kart.
Becky got promoted to manager the same day James was fired and immediately asked me to come back. Under her leadership, the whole atmosphere has changed.
“By the way,” she says as I enter her office, “I told everyone they can chill out with the uniform rules. As long as it’s still professional, fuck that ‘no individuality’ bullshit.”
I blink. “Wait. Seriously?”
She gestures to my hair. “Yeah. And that bow? Looks cute as hell.”
My fingers reach up, brushing over the silky ribbon tying back my curls—a soft pink, the sort of thing that when James was manager was banned from the uniform. I’d worn it tonight half-expecting her to tell me to take it out.
But Becky just winks. “Wear whatever makes you feel like you.”
By the time I finish closing up, the streets are mostly empty, the neon signs casting a soft glow on the pavement outside.
And then I see him.
A familiar BMW idling at the curb.
Alfie is leaning against it, still in his lab clothes—wrinkled button-down, ink smudges on his wrist from taking notes. He’s probably coming straight from analyzing data, lost in a world of planetary ice and mineral formations.
But he’s here.
Waiting.
The sight still makes my heart skip, not because he thinks I need protecting, but because he wants to.
“Good night?” he asks as I approach.
“Better now.”
I rise onto my tiptoes to kiss him, slow and sweet. He tastes like coffee and chalk dust, like long hours and quiet devotion.
“Did you solve all of Europa’s mysteries yet?”
“Not quite.” His hands find my waist, pulling me closer. “But I did figure out something interesting today.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Oh?”
He nods, his fingers tracing slow circles on my hip, absentminded like he’s still half in his research.
“There’s evidence that Europa’s ice shell has these microscopic imperfections—defects in the crystal structure that make it more flexible, more likely to shift and crack.
And when pressure builds up, instead of just breaking apart, the ice actually melts slightly at those weak points and then refreezes. Over and over. It adapts.”
I blink up at him. “That’s beautiful.”
He huffs a soft laugh. “It’s just a planetary process.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I mean, it’s beautiful that even something as cold and unyielding as ice can learn how to bend instead of shatter.”
Alfie exhales, like maybe that thought has never occurred to him before. His grip on me tightens slightly. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “It is.”
We’ve found our rhythm. Him waiting after my shifts, me bringing him dinner during late lab nights. Supporting each other without trying to control each other’s choices.
“Take me home?” I ask when he finally pauses for breath.
Alfie squeezes my waist, his voice softer now. “Always, Tink.”
As we drive through the quiet streets, his hand finds mine across the center console.
Some things really are worth the wait—like love that doesn’t ask you to be less, like finding someone who holds all your light, even the parts that burn too bright for others to handle.
Like this.
It’s very us.