Addison
I was on my second cup of coffee.
The mug sat on the kitchen counter while the city slowly woke outside my windows. I had already showered, dressed, and answered a few emails, but I was exhausted.
Routine usually carried me through the morning. Gym. Shower. Coffee. Office.
Today, the rhythm was off.
I hadn’t gotten home until one thirty, and I had skipped the gym.
That never happened.
It was almost eight a.m., so I texted the office to let them know I would head straight to my nine o’clock showing and come in afterward.
I moved slowly and thought about the night before. Nothing had happened between us, but somehow, it still felt like something had.
I finally picked up my coffee and took a sip, only to realize it had gone cold. I made a face, poured it out, and grabbed my keys.
My first showing that morning was a three-bedroom brownstone in the South End with exposed brick and a modern kitchen. It was overpriced, but charming enough that people wanted to believe it was worth it.
I walked my clients through the space with practiced ease while my hands moved when they were supposed to and my voice softened at the right moments.
Later, sitting in my outside the listing, I checked my phone. There was one text from my mom.
Mom: Sunday dinner. Don’t be late.
Another message waited underneath it.
Jason: Thought of you this morning. Want to grab dinner this weekend?
The familiar mix of guilt and irritation settled in my chest. Jason used to make sense. Now, I couldn’t summon a single feeling about him that wasn’t obligation. I didn’t answer.
Instead, I opened a new message and texted Tiff, resting my elbow against the center console.
Me: I may or may not have spent last night with Sawyer.
Tiff replied almost instantly.
Tiff: EXCUSE ME???
I smiled despite myself and typed back.
Me: Tacos. Whiskey. Pie. A roof top. Zero chill.
Another message popped up immediately.
Tiff: DID YOU KISS HER.
I hesitated before answering.
Me: No.
A second passed before her next text arrived.
Tiff: DID YOU WANT TO?!?!
I exhaled softly through my nose before replying.
Me: …Yes.
Me: So fucking much.
Three dots appeared and disappeared before her answer came through.
Tiff: Oh my god.
Warmth bloomed low in my chest as I leaned back in the driver’s seat.
Me: It wasn’t awkward. We just talked. Till one in the morning.
Me: It felt big.
Tiff: That’s huge.
I laughed quietly to myself before responding.
Me: I know.
I started me car, and headed to the office. It was time to start my day, and stop thinking about the welder.
* * *
By lunch my world had fractured into its usual pieces: clients, contracts, and bridal chaos.
The bridal group chat was already spiraling. Notifications stacked on top of each other until my phone buzzed like it was personally offended I hadn’t answered fast enough. I opened the thread while sitting at my desk with a salad container beside my laptop, multitasking.
Lilly: Brunch theme. Garden florals. Champagne tower. Pastels only.
Natalie: Signage and favors are ordered. Addison, did the bakery confirm?
I wiped my fingers on a napkin and typed quickly.
Me: Confirmed. Pick-up Saturday morning.
The messages kept coming: fonts and ribbons, whether blush read too pink in certain lighting, whether eucalyptus was overdone this season, opinions layered on opinions while exclamation points multiplied like they were contagious.
It was a lot.
Not because I didn’t care.
I mean, I did. Especially about Lilly. I loved her, truly. She had been there through breakups and bad years and every version of me I had tried on and quietly outgrown. She deserved a wedding that felt joyful instead of stressful, and I wanted to be the person who made that possible.
That part came easily.
What drained me was everything wrapped around it.
The performance of closeness. The expectation that every thought needed airtime and every feeling needed consensus.
Some days it felt like standing in the middle of a room where everyone was talking at once and somehow still expected me to hear them individually.
I answered because that’s what I did. I smoothed things over and kept the wheels turning.
Still, as I sat at my desk with my salad slowly wilting beside the laptop, I felt the pull of something quieter. A different pace. A different kind of connection. One where conversations didn’t feel like group projects and affection didn’t come with bullet points.
When the office finally quieted, I opened Sawyer’s thread. I stared at the blank message box for a moment before typing.
Me: Still smiling about last night. Just thought you should know.
I set the phone down and tried to focus on a listing description, but my attention drifted back when the screen lit up again.
Sawyer: Same. Let’s do it again soon, Sunshine.
My chest tightened slightly as I picked the phone back up.
Me: I’d really like that.
I hesitated before typing again.
Me: I was nervous before. But once I saw you, I wasn’t. That never happens.
The three dots appeared on the screen almost immediately.
Sawyer: That’s kind of the best thing you could’ve said.
I stared at the message longer than necessary before setting the phone down again and forcing myself back to work while pretending my pulse hadn’t gone uneven.
* * *
The afternoon blurred into the usual parade of showings. There was a fixer-upper in Charlestown that smelled like mildew and potential, and first-time buyers with Pinterest boards and hopeful eyes. I sold the dream even when I personally hated fixer-uppers.
Around five, Hallie, my assistant popped her head into my office.
“You okay if I head out?” she asked.
I looked up from my laptop and nodded. “Go,” I told her with a small wave. “Thanks for staying.”
I was ready to head out too.
As I packed up my phone buzzed.
Lilly: Bridal boutique. You. Me. Now. They got the veil.
The boutique smelled like lavender and money. Lilly was already there with a glass of champagne in hand.
“You’re late,” she teased as I walked in.
“You literally texted me 20 minutes ago, and I was uptown,” I said while collapsing beside her on the velvet bench.
The veil arrived like it was something holy. Lace. Cathedral length. Everything she had dreamed about since she was twelve. I teared up despite myself.
Then Lilly asked casually, “So… how are things with Jason?”
I stiffened slightly before answering. “They’re ending,” I said carefully. “I just haven’t done it yet.”
“Okay,” she said. “That makes sense.”
Relief loosened something in my chest. “It does?”
“Yes,” Lilly said. “Babe, you’ve been my best friend since we were seven. I know you. And he doesn’t make you happy. And you deserve to be happy. You deserve full strength, not decaf.”
I sighed, “I was afraid to tell you.” I said honestly.
“Why?” She asked.
I shrugged, “I don’t know. I just sometimes think…” I trailed off.
“Babe, I know your mom is—well—your mom.” She laughed. “But, this is me. You don’t have to pretend with me, Addie.”
I wanted to tell her right then. But, I still didn’t know how she’d react that the the person I really wanted was a woman, and not a man.
* * *
By the time I got home that night, I was done in every sense of the word. I pulled on sweats, made tea I didn’t drink, and sank onto the couch. Without thinking, I opened Instagram and somehow ended up rereading Sawyer’s messages from that first week.
The honesty. The steadiness. The way she didn’t ask for more than I was offering but didn’t pull away either.
I opened our text thread again and typed.
Me: Hope your day was good. Miss you.
I watched the screen for a moment before her reply appeared.
Sawyer: It just got better. I miss you too. How was yours?
I leaned back into the couch cushion before responding.
Me: Long. Didn’t want the day to end without texting you.
Her reply came quickly.
Sawyer: I like that. I’m in bed. Hoodie. Socks. Very glamorous.
I smiled and pulled the blanket closer around my legs.
Me: Cozy welder aesthetic. 10/10.
Sawyer answered almost immediately.
Sawyer: Careful. You might get an invite.
I laughed softly under my breath before typing back.
Me: I may say yes.
The typing bubble appeared again.
Sawyer: Promise?
I stared at the word for a moment before answering.
Me: Goodnight, Sawyer.
Her reply came seconds later.
Sawyer: Goodnight, Addie. Sweet dreams.
Addie.
She called me Addie.
I curled under the blanket and set my phone beside me while the apartment settled into silence. My life was loud with clients and weddings and parents and expectations.
Sawyer cut through all of it. I didn’t try to analyze the feeling or file it away or make it make sense. I just let it be there.
* * *