CHAPTER FIFTY ONE **ALEXANDER**

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

**ALEXANDER**

Thursday morning the crew showed up early. Sophia and I arrived at the lot just after eight. Hard hats on, breath visible in the cold air. Dessa handed us both updated site plans and pointed out where the first cuts would happen.

“I want to watch the excavator start,” Sophia said, standing close enough that our arms touched. “Then I need to leave for the foundation board, but I’ll be back by three if you’re still here.”

I nodded, but inside I felt that familiar pull. She didn’t have to come at all, yet here she was, boots in the dirt, making time. “Stay as long as you can. I like having you here when things begin.”

She looked up at me, eyes steady. “I like being here. With you. It feels different when we’re doing this together instead of me just hearing about it later.”

The excavator fired up. We stood side by side as the first bite of earth came out. Sophia’s hand slipped into mine without either of us saying anything. Her fingers were cold, but the grip was firm. That small connection grounded me more than the noise and dust ever could.

When the machine paused for repositioning, she turned to me. “This is really happening. Our ground. Our walls. I keep thinking about how you trusted me with the studio specs. No ego. Just ‘her call.’ That still hits me.”

I squeezed her hand. “Because it should be your call. I want the house to feel like you live there, not like I built it around you. Every time you claim a detail, it makes me want to give you more. Makes me want to watch you shape this place with me.”

Sophia stepped closer, voice low under the engine rumble. “You do the same for me. You listen when I talk about needing silence in the studio. Most people would nod and move on. You adjust the drawings. That makes me want to protect what you’re building. To show up even when my schedule is tight.” She paused, searching my face. “I’m starting to need these moments with you, Alexander. Not just the big ones. The everyday ones where we stand in the dirt and decide things together.”

Her words lodged deep. I yearned for her in a way that felt permanent now wanting her sharp mind next to mine, her calm presence when things got loud. She fascinated me. The way she balanced her foundation work with this build without losing any of herself. “I need them too. More than I expected. I sit in class thinking about what you’d say if you saw the latest revision. How you’d tilt your head and ask the one question that makes the whole design better. You make me better without even trying.”

The crew signaled for another pass. Sophia checked her watch but didn’t pull away. Instead she leaned her shoulder against mine. “I have to go soon. But promise me you’ll text updates. Even the small ones. I want to feel like I’m still here with you.”

“Done,” I said. “And when you get back, I’ll show you the new footing marks. You can tell me if the studio placement still feels right.”

She smiled, quick and warm. “It will. Because you listened to me about the light angles.” Her thumb brushed over my knuckles. “I like that you remember what matters to me. It makes me want to remember everything about you. Like how you stand a little taller when the work is going well. Or how your voice drops when you’re explaining something technical to me. I catch myself replaying it later.”

I turned toward her fully, ignoring the crew for a second. “Keep replaying it. Because I replay the way you look at me when I hand you control. Like I just gave you something precious. That look makes me want to hand over everything my time, my plans, my future. All of it with you.”

Sophia rose up slightly and kissed me, brief but intentional, right there on the lot with dirt on our boots. “Good. Because I’m already imagining nights in the finished house where we sit at the table and go over the day. You telling me about structural wins, me telling you about donor meetings. Coming together at the end of it all. That image keeps me going.”

She had to leave after the next pass. I watched her walk off the lot, coat collar up against the wind. The absence hit immediately. The site felt quieter without her quiet questions. I pulled out my phone and texted her a photo of the fresh excavation. *First cut done. Studio corner already visible. Miss your eyes on this.*

Her reply came twenty minutes later: *Perfect depth. I’m smiling in the board meeting because of that picture. Hurry home tonight. I want to hear everything.*

The rest of the day moved in fits. Crew questions, measurements, calls with Meridith about material deliveries. But my mind kept drifting back to Sophia. To the way her hand had felt in mine this morning. To how she’d claimed the build without pushing me out. I was fascinated by her confidence, by the way she stepped in exactly where she belonged and left space for me to do the same. The yearning grew sharper with every hour apart I wanted her voice on the phone, her body against mine at the end of the day, her mind tangled up with mine in every decision.

By three she was back, cheeks pink from the cold. She found me reviewing marks with Dessa.

“Show me,” she said simply, coming straight to my side.

I pointed out the new lines in the dirt. “Studio footing here. We adjusted the setback two inches based on your light comment.”

Sophia studied the ground, then looked at me. “You actually did it. Without me even asking again.” Her hand rested on my arm. “That kind of follow-through… it makes my chest tight in the best way. Like you’re really seeing me. Hearing me.”

“I am,” I said quietly. “Every word. Every preference. I want the house to carry your fingerprints as much as mine. Because when I imagine us living there, it’s not me in the space. It’s us. You reading in the studio while I cook downstairs. You coming down the stairs and finding me exactly where you expect. That shared life is what I’m building toward.”

Dessa gave us space, stepping away to talk to her foreman. Sophia turned fully to me, voice soft. “I want that too. More than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. I think about you during my meetings now. Wondering if you’re cold out here, if you remembered gloves, if you’re thinking about me the way I’m thinking about you. It’s new, this constant pull toward someone else’s day.”

I brushed a bit of dirt from her sleeve, letting my fingers linger. “It’s the same for me. I catch myself stopping mid-sentence in studio because I remember something you said about the north windows. You’ve gotten inside my head, Sophia. In the best way. I’m fascinated by how you do that without trying. How you make ordinary decisions feel important because they’re ours.”

She smiled, eyes holding mine. “Then keep letting me in. I’ll do the same. I already told my assistant to block more afternoons next month. So I can be here when the framing starts. So I can argue with you about cabinet placements and then kiss you when we agree.”

The promise in her voice sent warmth spreading through me. We spent the next hour walking the site together, pointing out small changes, trading ideas. Every conversation felt layered surface talk about concrete and rebar, underneath it the steady current of wanting each other closer.

When the crew wrapped for the day, we headed back to the apartment. Inside, coats off, she immediately stepped into my space.

“Today felt good,” she said, hands on my chest. “Not just the dig. Us. Standing there like we belong together in it.”

“We do,” I answered, pulling her in. “I keep realizing how much I look forward to your input. Not because I need it, but because I want it. Your perspective makes the work richer. Makes me richer.”

Sophia’s fingers traced my collar. “And I want yours. On everything. Even the parts of my life that used to be solo. I caught myself today thinking about what you’d say to a tricky donor. You make me want to share more. To build more. With you.”

We cooked together, bumping hips at the stove, trading small stories from the day. She fed me a taste of sauce from the spoon. I wiped a smudge from her lip with my thumb. The chemistry was there in the quiet touches, the easy laughter, the way our eyes kept finding each other.

Later on the couch she stretched out with her feet in my lap. “Tell me what you’re most excited about for the next phase.”

“The framing,” I said, rubbing her ankle. “Watching the skeleton go up. But mostly watching you watch it. Seeing your face when the studio takes shape. I want to share that moment with you more than anything.”

She nodded, eyes soft. “I want the same. To see your pride when it’s done right. To celebrate the small wins with you. Because doing this alone never felt this good. With you, every step feels like it’s leading somewhere real. Somewhere ours.”

I pulled her closer until she was half in my lap. “That’s what I crave. The real part. The everyday choosing. You choosing to come back to the site today. Me choosing to adjust the plans for you. Us choosing each other at the end of it all.”

Her hand cupped my face. “Then let’s keep choosing. Every day. I’m already halfway addicted to the way you make space for me. To the way you look at me like I’m part of your best future.”