CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR SOPHIA'S POV 

CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

SOPHIA'S POV 

Sunday the framing continued under gray skies. I arrived at the lot with fresh coffee and found Alexander already marking the next wall with the lead framer. He looked up, and his face changed the moment he saw me.

“You came early,” he said, walking straight to me.

“I couldn’t stay away.” I handed him the coffee, letting my fingers linger against his. “I kept thinking about the studio corner all night. Show me where the interior walls will meet.”

Alexander took my hand and led me through the partial frame. “Here. But I was waiting for you. If you still want that wider opening for the studio door, we can adjust the header placement now before they lock it in.”

I studied the marks, then looked at him. “You waited. Even though it would have been faster to proceed. That means more than you know. Most men would have moved forward. You hold space for my opinion. It makes me feel valued in a way I’ve never had before.”

He stepped closer, voice low. “Because your opinion matters to me. Every single one. I lie awake thinking about how you’ll move through this house, what light you’ll need when you’re deep in work. Your needs have gotten inside my head completely. I’m fascinated by how you see space and claim it so clearly. It makes me yearn to keep adjusting until it’s perfect for you.”

The framer called for confirmation. Alexander glanced at me. I nodded. He gave the go-ahead for the wider opening.

“See?” I said softly once the man walked away. “That quick respect. It does things to me. I sat through my foundation planning call yesterday thinking about your hands marking these lines, then imagining those same hands on me later. The pull toward you is getting stronger every weekend we spend out here.”

Alexander’s eyes darkened. “Good. Because I feel the same pull. I watch you walk onto the lot and everything else fades. Your focus, your questions, the way you stand beside me like we’re already a team. It makes me crave more time like this more mornings where we decide small things that shape our future together.”

We moved through the frame together, pointing out details. I stopped at the future kitchen area.

“What if we flip the sink and the stove? I think the workflow would be smoother for both of us when we cook together.”

He didn’t hesitate. “Show me.” I pointed it out. He studied it, then nodded. “You’re right. It improves the triangle. I’ll have them adjust the rough-ins this week. Your mind just makes the design better. I keep thinking about that how you see practical things I miss because I’m too deep in structure. It fascinates me. Makes me want your eyes on every drawing from now on.”

His words warmed me deep inside. “Then keep wanting them. I want to give them. I’m already rearranging my week so I can be here when the sheathing starts. I told my assistant no late meetings this month. Because coming back to you and this building feels more important than anything else on my calendar.”

Alexander pulled me gently against his side as the crew worked nearby. “You’re choosing this over convenience again. That choice hits me hard. I yearn for the day when every choice is this easy between us. When we move through the finished house and remember these cold mornings where we stood in the frame and made it ours. I crave your voice in every room we build.”

The crew raised another wall. We stepped back, watching, but our bodies stayed close.

“Tell me what you imagined for the north studio last night,” he said.

“I imagined waking up there with you already downstairs making coffee. Then you bringing it up and sitting on the edge of my work table while I sketch. Simple things. But they felt so real. That image made me miss you even though you were sleeping right next to me. I’m starting to need these quiet futures with you, Alexander. Not just the house. The life inside it.”

He turned me to face him. “I need it too. More than I expected. I catch myself during framing discussions thinking about how you’ll use the space, what art you’ll hang on the walls, how I’ll hear your footsteps coming down to find me. You’ve become the center of every plan I make. Your laugh, your focus, the way you challenge me gently. I’m fascinated by all of it. It makes the work feel like it has a heartbeat.”

We talked through lunch small adjustments to the pantry, my idea for built-in bookshelves in the living area, his thoughts on the stair railing height so I could see over it from the studio. Every conversation felt easy and charged at the same time.

“I like how we do this,” I said, taking a bite of the sandwich I’d brought. “No ego. Just us figuring it out together. It makes me trust that we’ll handle the bigger things the same way.”

Alexander nodded, knee pressing against mine where we sat on the truck bed. “I trust it too. You make me want to be open with every doubt and every win. Last night I was worried about the roof timeline. Then I remembered you’d be here today and the worry eased. You steady me without even trying. That’s rare. It makes me yearn to be that steady for you in return.”

By mid-afternoon the frame had grown significantly. I walked through the future living room with him, imagining furniture placement.

“Right here,” I said, stopping in one corner. “This is where I want the big reading chair. So I can see you working at the table across the room.”

He smiled. “Then that’s where it goes. I already pictured my drafting table facing the studio stairs so I can look up and catch you watching me. I keep building these small pictures in my head—us sharing the space without crowding each other. It’s what I crave most. Your presence in my days, your mind next to mine.”

The crew wrapped the main floor walls. Alexander checked the last measurements, then came back to me.

“Walk through it with me one more time before we leave,” he said.

We did, hand in hand, stepping carefully through the skeleton of our future home. At the studio corner he stopped.

“This space is yours,” he said quietly. “But I want to be welcome in it. I want to bring you coffee and steal kisses while you work. Tell me you want that too.”

“I do,” I whispered. “I want you in every part of this house and every part of my life. The way you listen, the way you adjust, the way you look at me like I’m the best decision you ever made. It makes my chest tight with how much I’m starting to need you, Alexander.”

He kissed me then, slow and full of everything we weren’t rushing to name. When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine.

“Let’s go home,” he said. “I want the rest of the day with you. Talking about the build, then forgetting it completely and just being us.”

We left the lot holding hands. Back at the apartment we cooked together, bodies brushing in the small kitchen, voices soft with updates and quiet admissions.

“I’m already counting the weeks until we can stand inside the finished rooms,” I said as we ate.

“Me too,” he replied, reaching across to take my hand. “But mostly I’m counting the nights I get to fall asleep next to you while this is all happening. You’ve become my favorite part of every day. Your strength, your honesty, the way you make ordinary moments feel deep. I’m fascinated by you, Sophia. Completely.”