“But we’re at the tricky part! If we stop now, we might forget how we were doing it.”
I look at the intricate construction we’ve built together and have to admit he has a point. We’ve created something pretty impressive for an evening’s work, and the engineering principles involved are actually quite complex.
“He’s right about this being a challenging section,” I tell Alexa. “But your mom’s also right about bedtime. The bridge will still be here in the morning.”
Ash sighs dramatically but starts gathering up the loose pieces. “Can we work on it right after breakfast?”
“We’ll see,” Alexa says with the diplomatic response of an experienced parent. “Now go brush your teeth.”
After Ash trudges off to the bathroom, I help Alexa carefully move the partially constructed project to a side table where it won’t get bumped. Henry has been asleep in the portable bassinet in her guest room for over an hour, and the house has that peaceful quiet that comes when children are finally settled for the night.
“I’ll just get him tucked in and be right back,” Alexa says, following the sound of running water toward Ash’s bathroom.
Left alone in her living room, I take a moment to really look around. This house feels so different from mine. Where my place is pristine and minimally furnished, Alexa’s home is lived-in and warm. Family photos cover the mantel, books are stacked on every available surface, and throw blankets are draped over chairs like they’re actually used for comfort rather than decoration.
The kitchen draws my attention, and I notice her tea cabinet is slightly open, revealing an impressive collection of boxes and tins. On impulse, I put the kettle on and start exploring her options. Chamomile, Earl Grey, green tea, something called “Sleepytime,” and at least a dozen others I’ve never heard of.
By the time Alexa returns, I’m standing at her counter with two steaming mugs and a grin.
“You made tea?” She looks genuinely surprised and pleased, which makes something warm settle in my chest.
“I figured, after all that engineering work, we could use some caffeine-free relaxation.” I hand her one of the mugs. “Though I have to say, your tea collection is impressive. Do you actually drink all fifty varieties in there?”
She laughs, settling onto the couch with her mug cradled in both hands. “Not fifty. Maybe forty-seven.”
“What’s the difference between ‘Bedtime Bliss’ and ‘Nighttime Serenity’? Because I’m pretty sure they’re the same thing with different marketing.” I take a seat on the other end of the couch, wanting to be close to her but also making sure to keep my distance.
“Completely different,” she says with mock seriousness. “One has lavender, the other has chamomile. Totally different levels of serenity.”
“My mistake. Clearly, I’m not sophisticated enough to understand the nuances of therapeutic tea blending.”
“It’s a habit I picked up from my grandmother,” Alexa explains, her expression softening. “She had this massive tea collection, and whenever I was upset or worried about something, she’d make me a different kind of tea and tell me stories until I felt better.”
There’s something wistful in her voice that makes me want to know more about this grandmother, who clearly meant so much to her.
“She sounds like a wonderful woman.”
“She was. She’s really the one who raised me.” Alexa takes a sip of her tea, looking thoughtful. “My parents were… complicated. But Grandma was always there.”
“Family isn’t always about blood,” I find myself saying, though I’m not sure why I’m sharing this. “Amy and I aren’t actually related, but she’s the most important person in my life.”
Alexa looks up from her mug, clearly surprised. “Really?”
“We grew up together in a group home for orphans. Best friends from the day we met when we were seven and eight. Our adoptive parents took us both when I was eleven and Amy was twelve.” I settle back into the couch, surprised by how easy it is to talk to her about this. “Most people don’t know we’re not biological siblings.”
“That’s beautiful,” Alexa says softly. “That you found each other and stayed together.”
“Amy made sure of it. When the Hadleys said they wanted to adopt her, she told them it was a package deal. Either they took both of us, or neither of us.”
“She sounds fierce.”
“She is. She’s always been the one who fights for what matters.” The words come out before I can stop them, and suddenly I’m thinking about Amy lying in that hospital bed, unable to fight for anything right now.
Something in my expression must have changed, because Alexa leans forward slightly, her eyes concerned.
“Jordan? Are you okay?”
And maybe it’s the tea, or the comfortable warmth of her living room, or the way she’s looking at me like she actually cares about the answer, but I find myself telling her the truth.
