CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT **ALEXANDER**

CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

**ALEXANDER**

The second contractor meeting on Monday ran long. The guy talked too much about timelines and budgets, but his numbers were solid. Sophia sat beside me on the folding chairs we’d brought to the lot, legs crossed, listening with that quiet intensity that always made me pay attention. Every time he paused, she asked one sharp question that cut straight to the heart of what mattered for the studio space.

By the time he left, the afternoon had turned gray and damp. I packed up the plans while she stood at the edge of the lot, hands in her coat pockets, staring at the bare ground like she could already see walls rising.

“Dessa was better,” she said without turning around.

“Yeah. She was.”

“She listened. He just wanted to sell himself.” Sophia glanced over her shoulder at me. “I like people who listen before they talk.”

I walked over and stopped close enough that our arms brushed. “You do the same thing in the studio. You watch a piece for ten minutes before you say anything.”

Her mouth curved, small and private. “You noticed that?”

“I notice everything about you.”

She turned fully then, eyes meeting mine in that direct way that still hit me low in the chest. “Good. Because I notice you too. The way you stand when you’re thinking about structure. Like you’re holding the weight of the building in your shoulders before you even draw it.”

Heat moved through me, quiet but steady. I wanted to pull her in right there on the empty lot, but instead I just reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that the wind had loosened. My fingers lingered against her skin longer than necessary. “You make me want to build everything better. Not just this house.”

Sophia’s breath caught, just a fraction. She stepped closer, her hand coming up to rest lightly on my chest. “You already do. Every time you sit across from me at the table with your sketchbook open, I feel it. Like you’re designing something for us even when you’re not saying it out loud.”

I covered her hand with mine, pressing it firmer against me. “I am. Always. Even when I’m pretending to focus on the accelerated track. Half my brain is wondering what color you’d paint the north wall of the studio. What kind of light you need when you’re lost in a new piece.”

She laughed softly, the sound warm despite the cold. “And I’m sitting in foundation meetings thinking about how your hands look when you’re measuring something. Steady. Sure. I catch myself staring and have to pull my attention back.”

The honesty in her voice made something tighten in my throat. I’d never wanted anyone the way I wanted her deep, steady, like she was already part of my bones. Not just the sharp attraction that had been there from the beginning, but this slow-burning need to know every quiet corner of her mind. To be the person she turned to when the world felt too loud.

“You’re dangerous for my concentration,” I admitted, voice low.

“Good.” Her thumb brushed over my shirt. “I like knowing I can do that to you. Because you do it to me too. When you look at me like I’m the only thing worth seeing in the room… it makes me forget whatever else I’m supposed to be doing.”

We stood there a moment longer, her hand still on my chest, mine curled around her wrist. The chemistry between us wasn’t loud or flashy it was this: small touches, honest words, the way our eyes held and said everything we weren’t rushing to name yet. It felt solid. Real. Like the ground under our feet.

“Come on,” I said finally, reluctant to break the moment but knowing the cold was biting. “Let’s get out of here before we freeze. I’ll call Dessa tonight and tell her she’s got the job.”

Sophia nodded, but she didn’t pull away immediately. Instead she rose up on her toes and pressed a quick, soft kiss to my mouth. “Tell her the studio height stays at four meters. No compromises.”

“Bossy,” I murmured against her lips, smiling.

“You like it.”

“I do.”

We walked back toward the apartment side by side, shoulders bumping now and then on purpose. The city moved around us cars, pedestrians, the low hum of evening starting but it felt distant. My mind kept drifting to her: the way she’d answered Dessa’s questions with such precision, the quiet pride in her voice when she talked about the north studio like it was already hers. I was fascinated by how completely she claimed space in my life without demanding it. She just fit. And every day I wanted her there more.

Inside the apartment the lights were warm. Sophia kicked off her shoes and headed straight for the kitchen, pulling out the leftover Thai we’d ordered the night before. I watched her move efficient, graceful, completely at home.

“You’re staring,” she said without looking up, a smile in her voice.

“Can’t help it. You look good in our kitchen.”

“Our kitchen.” She turned, leaning against the counter. “That still sounds new. But I like hearing you say it.”

I crossed the room and stopped in front of her, hands settling on her waist. “It feels new and right at the same time. Like you. I keep thinking about the day we close on the lot. About carrying you over the threshold of the finished house someday. Stupid, maybe. But it’s there.”

Sophia’s hands slid up my arms, fingers tracing lightly. “Not stupid. I think about it too. Waking up in the north studio with morning light pouring in, you already downstairs making coffee. Coming down to find you bent over plans at the table, that little frown between your brows when something isn’t perfect yet. I want all of it. With you.”

The yearning hit me hard then deep and wordless. I wanted her laughter in the new house, her quiet focus when she worked, the way she challenged me without raising her voice. I wanted to be the man who earned that look in her eyes every single day.

I leaned in and kissed her properly this time, slow and deliberate. She met me halfway, hands tightening on my shoulders, body pressing closer. There was heat, yes, but underneath it was something steadier: recognition. We were building something here, piece by piece, the same way I built structures careful, intentional, meant to last.

When we broke apart she rested her forehead against mine, breathing a little uneven. “I’m glad it’s you, Alexander. On the papers. On the land. In this apartment right now. All of it.”

“Me too.” I brushed my thumb along her jaw. “Every morning I wake up and you’re still here, I feel lucky in a way I can’t explain. Like I stumbled into the one person who sees the same future I do.”

She smiled, small and real. “You didn’t stumble. We both chose it. And I choose it again every day I see you working for us. Not just the house the way you listen when I talk about the foundation, the way you make space for my studio without hesitation. It makes me want to be better for you too.”

We ate dinner at the counter, talking about the build, about her upcoming studio visit, about nothing important at all. But every glance, every shared smile carried that undercurrent. I caught myself watching the way she held her chopsticks, the small tilt of her head when she listened. Fascinated. Hungry for more of her in every ordinary moment.

Later, when we moved to the couch, she curled against my side without asking, her head on my shoulder. My arm went around her automatically. The TV played something neither of us cared about.

“I keep imagining the finished house,” she said quietly. “Not the big parts. The small ones. Like where you’ll put your drafting table so the light hits it right. Where I’ll hang that small piece I bought last month the one you said reminded you of my eyes.”

I tightened my hold, pressing a kiss to her hair. “We’ll figure it out together. Every detail. I want you to love every inch of it as much as I will.”

“I already do. Because it’s ours.” She shifted, looking up at me. “And because you’re in it. That’s the part that matters most.”

The words settled deep. I was gone for this woman completely, quietly, in a way that had nothing to do with flash and everything to do with the steady pull between us. She made me want to slow down and speed up at the same time. To build fast so we could live there sooner, but to savor every step because she was beside me through all of it.

I kissed her again, longer this time, letting the chemistry simmer without rushing. Her fingers threaded through my hair, pulling me closer, and for a moment the rest of the world disappeared. Just us. Just this.

When we finally settled back, her body relaxed against mine, I let the contentment wash over me. The lot was approved. The contractor would be chosen soon. The house was coming.

But more than any of that, Sophia was here. Wanting this with me. Seeing me the same way I saw her.

That was the real foundation.

And it felt unbreakable.