“Hey, baby?” I said gently.
Ava glanced up, cheeks pink from excitement. “Hi, Mom.”
“I’m going next door to talk to Mr. Alex for a little bit, okay? If you need anything at all, you can go to Ms. Mel.”
Ava nodded immediately and turned back to her dragon. “Okay.”
Just . . . okay. No fear, no question, no hesitation.
I brushed a hand over her hair. “I’ll be right next door.”
“Mmhmm,” she murmured, fully absorbed in dragon architecture.
When I straightened, Alex was waiting at the door with hands in his pockets, shoulders tense like he’d been trying not to hover. The moment our eyes met, his expression softened.
“You ready?” he asked quietly.
I managed a nod. “Yeah. I think I need a minute.”
His smile was gentle, warm. “Then you’ll get one.”
He pushed open the door for me, and the cool night air hit my skin like a reset button. The noise of the party dimmed behind us as we stepped out onto the porch. The yard lights from Mel and Becca’s place spilled across the grass, catching in the trees. A few kids’ bikes were abandoned near the fence. Someone’s sprinkler clicked in the distance.
Alex offered his hand., and I took it. We walked with fingers laced, steady and sure, across the lawn toward his duplex. Every step felt like shedding a layer of tension. By the time we reached his front door, I could breathe again.
He unlocked it, pushed it open, and turned back to me—his voice low and hopeful.
“Come inside. Let’s talk. Or not talk. Whatever you need.”
I hesitated on the threshold, heart pounding. But then I met his eyes, those warm brown eyes that had comforted my daughter, made me laugh, kissed me like he saw something in me worth wanting, and the choice felt easy.
I stepped inside.
And Alex closed the door behind us, the soft click echoing like the start of something new.
I wasn’t sure what I expected when I stepped inside Alex’s duplex, but it definitely wasn’t . . . this.
It was perfect, like a life lived, not curated. There were mismatched throw pillows on the couch, one of them clearly hand-stitched by Leo. Crayon drawings were taped along the hallway wall, some crooked. A half-finished Lego spaceship claimed the entire coffee table. A pair of tiny sneakers sat kicked off near the door.
And everywhere, absolutely everywhere, there were signs of joy.
It hit me like a tide just how different this felt compared to the museum-quiet manor I’d been living in. That house wasall gleaming surfaces and tidy nothingness. Here, everything looked like it had been touched and loved.
Alex cleared his throat and quickly swept a blanket, a stack of coloring books, and what looked like a cardboard sword off the couch.
“Uh—sit, please. Sorry, Leo basically runs the place.”
His voice was flustered. Sweet.
He shuffled one more pillow aside and motioned again. “Really. Sit wherever you want.”
I lowered myself onto the couch, sinking immediately into the cushions. It was soft, worn-in. Comfortable. Nothing like the rock-solid antique monstrosity in my mother’s house.
Alex sat beside me, close, but not too close. His knee just barely brushed mine. He looked at me with an expression that was half-trepidation, half-concern, like he wasn’t sure if I was about to laugh or cry or bolt out the door.
“Eleanor . . . ” he said slowly. “Are you okay?”
I met those warm brown eyes and exhaled. “Everything is fine.”
