Alix ran her hand over the butcher block counter in the tiny kitchen. “Or… Connie,” she said, voice light, teasing, like they were still playing house.
Grace caught the slip in tone. The silence that followed stretched too long, and something in her chest twisted.
She leaned back against the sink, fingers gripping the porcelain edge until it bit into her palms. The game dissolved, leaving that hollow echo of what it had almost felt like. Because that’s what it was. A game. A house they’d never buy. A guest space they’d never fill.
Guilt hit her low and sharp. She’d let herself imagine it. Alix’s laughter in the mornings. The warm comfort of her body at night.A version of her life that didn’t belong to her.
The truth was harder. Her real life waited three thousand miles away, full of clients and deadlines and the hum of expectation. Miami was movement and order. Alix’s world spun on the axis of something wilder, messier, softer.
For a heartbeat, Grace almost said it out loud.How in the world will this work?But she couldn’t bear to watch the spark fade from Alix’s eyes.
She didn’t have to speak. The light went out on its own.
Something in Alix dimmed, subtle but unmistakable. Her shoulders dropped. Her face went still. “We should go,” she said, the words too casual to be anything but defense.
Before Grace could speak, Alix was already walking out.
Her footsteps echoed down the tile hall, each one landing like a small loss. Grace followed, slow at first, then faster, a quiet panic climbing her ribs.
By the time she caught up in the main house, Alix’s energy had changed completely. The brightness was gone, replaced by something shuttered. The woman who’d been all laughter minutes earlier now moved like she was carrying something heavy she didn’t trust anyone to touch.
“Alix,” Grace said, barely more than a breath.
Alix looked at her, then away. “It’s fine.”
It wasn’t. Grace felt it in the quiet. The way the air had cooled. The way the day’s light turned brittle around them before it shattered. She didn’t know exactly what she’d broken. Only that she had.
Chapter Thirty-Two
ALIX
The walkhome 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 ofthe 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?”
