CHAPTER FIFTY **ALEXANDER**

CHAPTER FIFTY

**ALEXANDER**

Wednesday evening Dessa sent the final crew schedule. Demolition prep started Monday. I forwarded it to Sophia while she was still at the gallery. Her reply came fast: “Good. I cleared my Thursday afternoon. I want to be there when they first break ground.”

I stared at the message longer than I should have. The fact that she was already shifting her own work to stand beside me on the lot hit me hard. I wanted her there, not just for the build, but because every shared decision pulled us closer. She fascinated me more each day how she moved through her world with such clear boundaries and still chose to make room for mine without hesitation.

When she walked through the apartment door an hour later, I met her in the hallway. She barely had time to set her bag down before I pulled her in.

“You cleared Thursday,” I said against her hair.

She wrapped her arms around my waist and held on. “Of course I did. This isn’t just your project anymore. It stopped being that the moment we decided to put both our names on the title.” Her voice was soft but steady. “I keep thinking about standing there with you while the first machine starts. It feels… big. In the best way.”

I tilted her chin up so I could see her eyes. “It is big. And I want you next to me for all of it. Not because you have to be, but because you want to be. That choice does something to me, Sophia. Makes me want to give you even more of the decisions. Makes me want to watch you light up when the framing goes up exactly how you pictured it.”

She smiled, small and real, and pressed her forehead to my chest. “I do want it. I catch myself in the middle of donor calls imagining the sound of hammers and you explaining load paths to me like I’m the only student who matters. It makes the rest of the day feel shorter. Like I’m hurrying toward you.”

Her words settled deep. I yearned for these moments more than I expected the quiet admissions that showed how much space I already took up in her thoughts. “You hurry toward me and I do the same. In studio today I kept drifting to the way you argued with the second contractor about material choices. So precise. So sure. It turned me on in a completely unfair way.”

Sophia laughed low, the sound vibrating against me. She pulled back just enough to look at me. “Unfair? Good. Because I think about your focus when you’re measuring on site. That calm competence. It makes me want to interrupt it. To pull you away and remind you that I’m waiting for your hands on me later.”

Heat flared low and steady. I slid my hands down her back, anchoring her closer. “Keep talking like that and we won’t make it to dinner.”

“I’m okay with that.” Her fingers traced the edge of my jaw. “But first tell me you’re not second-guessing giving me the studio control. I know it’s your design, but”

“It’s our design,” I cut in. “And no, I’m not second-guessing. I love that you care enough to fight for the acoustics. It shows me you’re already seeing yourself living there. With me. That picture in my head you working in the north light while I’m downstairs it’s what gets me through the long studio hours.”

She kissed me then, slow and deliberate, like she was sealing the promise. When she drew back, her eyes held that deep, quiet want I was starting to recognize as ours alone. “I see it too. Every night when I close my eyes. You coming up the stairs with coffee exactly how I like it. Me stealing glances at you across the room because I still can’t believe this is real. Us. Building something from scratch.”

We moved to the kitchen together, shoulders brushing as we heated leftovers. The easy rhythm felt deeper now. She handed me plates. I poured wine. Every small exchange carried an undercurrent of the pull between us.

At the counter she leaned her hip against mine. “Patricia called me today.”

I raised an eyebrow. “She did?”

“Briefly. Just to say she likes Dessa’s reputation and that the community center team spoke highly of you. Then she asked if I was happy with how things were going.” Sophia took a sip of wine, watching me. “I told her yes. That watching you hand over control on the things that matter to me makes me trust you more. She went quiet for a second and said, ‘Good. He needs someone who expects the best from him.’”

I set my glass down and turned to face her fully. “She’s right. You do expect the best, and you give it back without making it feel like pressure. That balance… it’s rare. I find myself wanting to be worthy of it every single day. Wanting to see that look in your eyes when the house is done—the one that says we did this together.”

Sophia stepped between my legs, hands resting on my chest. “You already have that look from me. Every time you include me without being asked. Every time you notice when I’m tired and just pull me close instead of trying to fix it. I’m fascinated by how steady you are, Alexander. How you don’t flinch when I push. You push back just enough to remind me we’re equals.”

Her honesty made my pulse kick harder. I cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks. “Equals. That’s exactly what I want. I don’t want you softer or quieter. I want your sharp questions on site, your opinions on the kitchen layout, the way you make me laugh when I’m overthinking a detail. You make the work better. You make me better.”

We ate quickly, the conversation flowing easy but charged. She told me about a new artist she was considering for the gallery; I told her about a structural solution I’d found that would give the studio even better natural light. Every topic circled back to us—how it would feel in the finished house, how we would share the space.

After dinner we ended up on the couch, her legs draped over mine. I traced lazy circles on her ankle while she talked about the foundation gala coming up.

“I want you there with me,” she said. “Not just as my date. As my partner. The one who understands why this work matters to me the way the build matters to you.”

“I’ll be there,” I promised. “And I’ll be thinking the whole time about stealing you away afterward. About coming home and hearing you debrief the night while I rub your feet. About the way you’ll look at me when we’re alone again.”

Sophia’s eyes darkened. She shifted closer, her hand sliding up my thigh. “I like that plan. Because I’ll be doing the same—watching you in a suit, remembering how those hands feel when they’re building something real. When they’re on me. It’s becoming my favorite distraction.”

The chemistry between us hummed low and constant, not frantic but deep. A shared understanding that we were choosing each other in the big things and the small ones. I yearned for her in a way that went beyond the physical—the way her mind complemented mine, the way her presence made the future feel solid and exciting at the same time.

“I keep imagining quiet mornings in the new house,” I admitted, voice low. “You still half-asleep, reaching for me before your eyes are open. Me kissing your shoulder and knowing we have years of those mornings ahead.”

She nodded, fingers tightening on my arm. “I imagine the same. Coming downstairs to find you already at the table with plans spread out, coffee waiting. The quiet pride of knowing we chose this life together. It makes my chest ache in the best way. Like I can’t wait to start living it with you.”

We stayed tangled on the couch for a long time, talking in low voices about the weeks ahead—crew on site, her schedule adjustments, how we’d celebrate when the foundation was poured. But mostly it was the steady back-and-forth of two people who were learning each other’s rhythms and liking what they found.

When we finally moved to bed, she curled into my side immediately, her head on my shoulder. My arm went around her like it belonged there.

“You know,” she whispered in the dark, “I used to think sharing a future would feel like compromise. With you it feels like expansion. Like there’s suddenly more room for both of us to be exactly who we are.”

I kissed the top of her head, heart full and yearning sharper than ever. “That’s what I want for us. More room. More of you. Every version— the one who fights for studio height, the one who clears her calendar for groundbreaking, the one who looks at me like this is already home.”

She pressed a kiss to my chest. “Then keep looking at me the same way. Because I’m already yours in all the ways that count.”