CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

CHAPTER FIFTY SEVEN

ALEXANDER

Wednesday the sheathing crew started early. I was on site when Sophia arrived mid-morning, coat buttoned high against the wind. She walked straight to me and slipped her hand into mine.

“Show me the north wall,” she said.

I led her through the frame. “They’re halfway done. I held the studio section until you got here so you could see the windows go in.”

Sophia studied the panels, then pointed. “The top edge on the left window feels tight. Can we raise it two inches for better light?”

“Already noted it.” I signaled the crew and gave the adjustment. When I turned back, she was watching me with that steady look that always hit me hard.

“You waited again,” she said softly. “Even with the crew here. That kind of patience with my input… it makes me feel like a real partner. Not an afterthought.”

I pulled her closer, keeping my voice low. “Because you are a real partner. Your eye makes the space better. I stood here this morning thinking about how the light will fall across your work table and knew you’d want that extra height. You’ve gotten so deep inside my decisions now. I’m fascinated by how naturally you improve everything you touch.”

She squeezed my hand. “And you actually make the change. No ego, no delay. That turns me on in the strangest way. I keep thinking about it during my meetings your hands marking lines for me, then imagining those same hands on my skin later. The yearning is getting stronger every time I drive over here.”

The crew continued working around us. We stepped back to watch the panels lock into place.

“I cleared my lunch hour and the afternoon,” Sophia said. “I want to stay until they finish the studio wall. Is that all right?”

“More than all right.” I brushed my thumb over her knuckles. “I was hoping you would. Having you here changes how the day feels. I kept checking the time, waiting for you to show up. Your presence makes the build feel like ours instead of just mine. I crave that feeling more each day.”

We walked the growing structure slowly, discussing the next runs of sheathing. Every few steps our arms brushed.

“Tell me about your morning,” I said.

“Another long donor call. The same man pushing for more recognition than he earned.” She leaned her shoulder against mine. “I held the line, but it drained me. Then I thought about coming here and seeing you, and it got easier. I like that you’re becoming my reset button. I unload my day with you and suddenly the weight feels lighter.”

Her honesty settled deep in my chest. “Then keep unloading. I want the hard parts too. I want to be the person you come to when the foundation work frustrates you. Your strength fascinates me the way you stand firm but still make space to come here afterward. It makes me yearn to protect your energy, to make sure the building gives back to you as much as it takes.”

The crew finished the first full studio wall. Sophia stepped inside the framed space and turned slowly.

“It already feels different with the sheathing up,” she said. “More real. I can almost hear myself working here. And I like knowing you’ll be downstairs, close enough that I can call down to you.”

I stepped in behind her. “I like that too. I already adjusted my drafting placement so I can look up and see the studio floor. I keep building these small pictures us moving through the house, finding each other without having to search. That everyday closeness with you is what I crave most now.”

Sophia turned to face me, eyes soft. “I crave it too. Coming down the stairs after a long stretch of work and finding you there. Or you bringing me coffee and stealing a kiss while I’m focused. These little futures keep pulling at me. You make me want to guard this time we’re spending together, even when my schedule fights me.”

We spent the next two hours on site, making small calls on material transitions and window flashing. The conversation never felt forced. It flowed—easy, honest, and layered with that steady undercurrent of want.

“I like how we do this,” I said as we stood watching the crew. “No fighting over who decides. Just us figuring it out together. It makes me trust that we’ll handle the bigger challenges the same way.”

Sophia nodded. “I trust it too. You listen first, then act. That combination makes me want to give you more of myself. More of my time, more of my thoughts, more of my days. I’m already addicted to the way you make me feel like an equal in this.”

When the crew broke for lunch, we sat on the truck tailgate sharing the sandwiches she had brought.

“What’s one thing you’re excited about for the interior phase?” she asked.

“Watching you stand in the finished studio for the first time,” I answered. “Seeing your face when the height and light work exactly like you wanted. But mostly sharing that moment with you. Your quiet pride when something feels right has become one of my favorite things to witness.”

She smiled and fed me a bite from her sandwich. “I’m excited for the same. Watching your shoulders relax when the structure is solid. Then coming home with you and talking through every detail. I like the way we end our days together. It feels like the real reward after being out here in the cold.”

The afternoon passed quickly. By the time the crew wrapped the studio wall, the space felt noticeably more enclosed. Sophia stood inside it again, turning slowly.

“It’s starting to feel like mine,” she said. “Because you made room for my voice in every step. That matters more than the square footage. It makes me want to be just as generous with you in my world.”

I pulled her against me. “Then be generous. Bring me into your gallery decisions. Ask my opinion on installs. I want in, Sophia. All the way in. Your art, your work, your thoughts at the end of the day. I’m fascinated by every layer of you. The woman who fights for window height and the woman who comes home tired but still chooses this with me.”

We left the lot hand in hand as the light faded. Back at the apartment we cooked together, bodies moving easily in the small kitchen.

“I missed you today,” I said, handing her the knife. “Even though you were here for hours. I miss you the second you leave the site.”

Sophia leaned back against me for a moment. “I miss you too. The version of you on the lot and the version that waits for me here. Both pull at me. This chemistry we have keeps deepening with every shared decision and every quiet evening. I like how it feels steady. Real.”

After dinner we settled on the couch. She curled into my side, my arm around her shoulders.

“Tell me what you’re thinking right now,” I said.

“That I’m lucky we found this,” she whispered. “A man who adjusts for me without hesitation. Who listens like my words matter. Who makes me want to show up fully every single day. I’m starting to need you in my routine, Alexander. More than I planned.”