CHAPTER FORTY NINE **ALEXANDER**

CHAPTER FORTY NINE

**ALEXANDER**

Dessa called Tuesday morning to confirm she had the job. I put her on speaker while Sophia poured coffee.  

“Great,” Sophia said before I could answer. “When can you start demolition prep?”  

Dessa laughed. “You don’t waste time. I like that. We can break ground next week if the permits line up.”  

I watched Sophia’s face light up. That small, satisfied curve of her mouth did something dangerous to my chest. She was already claiming the build the same way she claimed everything that mattered to her quietly, completely. I wanted to be claimed like that too. Every day I spent near her, the pull grew stronger. Not just physical. I craved the way her mind worked, the way she saw straight through plans and people alike.  

“Next week works,” I said. “Sophia wants the north studio framed first.”  

Sophia shot me a quick look, eyes warm. “He’s right. I do.” She slid my coffee across the counter, her fingers brushing mine on purpose. The touch lingered a second longer than needed. “Because once that space is closed in, I can start testing acoustics while you two argue about foundations.”  

Dessa made a note on her end. “Noted. I’ll send the updated schedule by lunch.” She hung up.  

Sophia turned to me fully, mug in both hands. “You gave me the studio call without hesitation. Again.”  

“Why wouldn’t I?” I set my phone down and stepped closer. “It’s yours. The whole point of this house is that it fits us really fits. Not just me deciding and you living in it.”  

Her gaze softened. “Most men would have pushed back on the height or the partial wall. You just handed it over. That does things to me, Alexander. Makes me want to hand things back to you too.” She reached up and touched my jaw. “Like the way I keep thinking about clearing my weekend gallery slots so I can be on site with you more. I’ve never rearranged my calendar for anyone.”  

I caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. Heat moved through me slow and deep. “I notice every time you do that. Every time you choose to be here instead of somewhere else. It makes me want to earn it. To build something so solid you never have to wonder if it’s safe to lean on.”  

She stepped into me, body fitting against mine like it already knew the shape. “I don’t wonder. Not with you. That’s what scares me a little. How fast this feels steady.” Her voice dropped. “I catch myself in meetings imagining your hands on the plans, then on me later. It’s distracting.”  

“Good distracting?” I murmured, sliding my arms around her waist.  

“The kind that makes me hurry home.” She tilted her head up, eyes locking on mine. “You fascinate me. The way you listen when I talk about light and space like it’s as important as load-bearing walls. Most architects tune that out. You don’t. You lean in.”  

I rested my forehead against hers. “Because it’s you talking. Everything you care about matters to me. I sit in studio sessions thinking about what you’d say if you saw the same drawing. How you’d tilt your head and ask one question that changes everything.” My thumb traced her lower back. “I’m gone for you, Sophia. Quietly. Completely. I want your voice in every part of this life we’re making.”  

She smiled against my mouth before kissing me, slow and sure. When she pulled back, her fingers stayed tangled in my shirt. “Then keep giving me that. The studio. The decisions. The space to be difficult about ceiling heights. I’ll give you the same. I already told the foundation board I might need more flexible hours once construction really starts. They weren’t thrilled, but I didn’t care. Because coming home to you at the end of the day feels better than any meeting.”  

The words hit me straight in the gut. Yearning rose sharp and sweet I wanted her mornings, her evenings, her frustrations, her victories. All of it. “Say that again later when we’re not rushing out the door. I need to hear it when I can kiss you properly.”  

She laughed softly. “Deal. Now go. You have class. I have that artist call at ten.”  

We moved through the morning routine with easy rhythm. She handed me my coat. I fixed the collar of hers. Small touches that carried weight now. At the door she caught my hand before I could open it.  

“Wait.” Her voice was quieter. “I keep thinking about the first life you left behind. All that inherited weight. And here you are, choosing every brick of this new one. With me. It makes me proud in a way I can’t explain to anyone else.”  

I turned back, cupping her face. “You’re the reason it feels worth it. Every choice. I look at you and I want to be the man who deserves to stand next to you on that lot when the walls go up.” My thumb brushed her cheek. “You make me want to be better without ever asking me to change. That’s rare. That’s everything.”  

Sophia’s eyes darkened with the same quiet hunger I felt. “Then don’t stop. Because watching you choose us every day does the same thing to me. I want to protect this. Protect you. Even when it’s just making sure you eat before you disappear into studio time.”  

We kissed again, deeper this time, the kind of kiss that promised more later. When we finally stepped out, the November air felt sharper, but her hand found mine on the sidewalk for the first three blocks until our paths split.  

The rest of the day dragged. In the accelerated track session I kept drifting to thoughts of her—how she’d sounded on the phone with Dessa, confident and clear. How her body had pressed into mine in the kitchen like it belonged there. I was fascinated by her strength, by the way she balanced her own world without losing any of herself to mine. She didn’t fold into me. She stood beside me, and that made me want her more.  

By the time I got back to the apartment that evening, she was already there, shoes off, hair down, stirring something on the stove. The sight of her hit me like comfort and want all at once.  

“You’re early,” I said, coming up behind her and wrapping my arms around her waist.  

“I left the studio visit after the first hour. The artist was talented but… loud. I kept thinking about quiet evenings here instead.” She leaned back into me. “With you.”  

I kissed the side of her neck. “I spent half my studio time today wondering what you were doing. Picturing you across from me at the new kitchen table someday, sketchbook open while I draw elevations. The image won’t leave my head.”  

Sophia turned in my arms, hands sliding up to my shoulders. “I like that picture too. Me watching you concentrate, that little line between your brows. Then you looking up and catching me staring. We wouldn’t get much work done.” Her smile turned playful but her eyes stayed serious. “I want that future with you, Alexander. Not just the house. The everyday parts. The arguments over paint samples. The nights where we both come home tired and still choose each other.”  

I pulled her closer, chest tight with how much I needed exactly that. “Then let’s keep choosing it. Every day. I’m already half in love with the way you challenge contractors and then come home and challenge me in the best ways.”  

She laughed, low and warm. “Half?”  

“The other half is still catching up, but it’s close.” I kissed her again, letting the heat build slow. “You make me greedy. For time. For your thoughts. For the way you look at me like I’m already home.”  

We ate dinner standing at the counter again, trading bites and updates. She told me about the artist’s work; I told her about a tricky structural detail I’d solved in class. Every exchange felt layered now—words on the surface, but underneath the steady current of wanting each other more with every passing hour.  

Afterward we moved to the couch. She stretched out with her head in my lap, my fingers threading through her hair.  

“I told Patricia about the contractor choice today,” I said quietly. “She just said ‘good’ again. But I think she’s proud. In her way.”  

Sophia looked up at me. “She should be. You’re doing this right. No shortcuts. No ego. Just… us.” Her hand found mine and squeezed. “I’m proud too. And a little possessive. This build is ours. You’re mine in it.”  

The word ‘mine’ from her lips sent a fresh wave of yearning through me. I wanted to be hers in every way that counted. “Say that again sometime when we’re not dressed.”  

She grinned. “Maybe tonight.”  

We stayed like that, talking softly about the weeks ahead permits, framing, her upcoming foundation gala. But mostly we just existed in the same space, comfortable and charged at the same time. Her presence filled every quiet corner of the apartment and every corner of my thoughts.  

I was falling deeper every day, fascinated by her mind, her steadiness, the way she made ordinary moments feel like they mattered. And from the way she looked at me, fingers laced with mine, I knew she felt the same quiet, deep pull.