“Yeah,” Alix said eventually. “I mean… yeah, of course.”
Grace tilted her head. “You’d move?”
Alix shrugged, trying to look casual while her pulse hammered in her throat. “I mean, it’s too early to really think about that, right? But I guess we have to figure out what long distance even looks like for us.”
“Right,” Grace said carefully.
“Maybe I come to Miami for Valentine’s Day,” Alix added quickly, relieved to have something practical to say. “You’vealready taken so much time off work, and I know you’re stressed about that. My schedule’s flexible. And I wanna hang out with the cats. Let them meet their new stepmom.”
Grace smiled at that, but the expression didn’t quite hide the flicker of worry in her eyes. “Stepmom, huh?”
Alix nodded solemnly. “I plan to be the cool one who lets them on the counter.”
Grace laughed, but Alix could feel her watching her too closely, like she might catch the tremor in her voice.
“And after Valentine’s Day?” Grace asked.
“We figure it out.” It was supposed to sound confident. Instead it came out small, uncertain.
Grace hesitated. “Long term, I could move to LA.”
The idea hit Alix like a flash of heat. “No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “That’s way more complicated. You have Connie. I don’t even know how the bar works, but I’m sure it’s a nightmare. Way easier for me to move. I already looked into it. My license would transfer fine to Florida after some paperwork.”
Grace blinked. “You’ve already looked into it?”
Alix met her gaze, trying to smile but feeling her throat tighten. “I was curious,” she said, which was technically true. “And maybe a little serious. About you. About us. My only hangup is Phyllis. I don’t know how she affords this place without my rent. I’m sure she’d find another Craigslist roomie, but Phyllis is an acquired taste, you know?” She exhaled, looking down at her hands. “I just… I want this to work, Grace. I don’t know what that looks like yet, but I’m trying. I’m really trying.”
Grace searched her face. “Hey,” she said quietly. “You don’t have to have it all figured out today.”
“I know.” Alix forced a shaky laugh. “But I’m usually great at the whole ‘go with the flow’ thing. Until this, apparently. And then I say dumb stuff and ruin perfectly good tofu scrambles.”
Grace reached out, brushing her thumb across the back of Alix’s hand. “You didn’t ruin anything.”
That simple touch unraveled her a little.
For the rest of the day, Alix held on to the small things. Grace’s hand finding hers under the blanket, her quiet laugh as they continued theirCSImarathon from Aunt Sylvia’s house, the weight of her head on Alix’s shoulder. Every moment felt borrowed, precious.
“Promise me lots of phone sex,” Alix said as they curled together on the couch watching the sunset through the windows, her voice already drowsy. “And, like, a tasteful amount of nudes.”
Grace laughed. “You’re shameless.”
“Completely. It’s part of my charm.”
Grace leaned up and kissed her jaw. “It’s working.”
They made a lazy dinner from whatever was in the fridge — leftover pasta, olives, a mystery jar of sun-dried tomatoes. They ate on the couch, watching another episode, and by the time the credits rolled, Grace was half-asleep against her.
Alix pressed her lips to Grace’s hair, her chest tightening with something tender and terrifying all at once. Tomorrow, Grace would be gone. And then it’d be six weeks until she’d see her again. She let herself breathe out, envisioning Valentine’s Day in Miami to get her through.
She didn’t know what the next month or year would look like. How they’d juggle flights and time zones and fear, but for the first time, she wanted to find out.
Alix closed her eyes, feeling Grace breathe against her collarbone, and thought,If this is how the year starts, maybe I don’t have to brace for the ending.
It should’ve been easy — lying there, letting herself rest — but Alix’s brain kept whirring, spinning through memories like a deck of old Polaroids she’d meant to throw out.
She hadn’t thought about Kirstin in so long, but something about the quiet always brought old ghosts back. Maybe it was the contrast — the calm in her chest now versus the constant, anxious performance she’d called love back then.
Kirstin, and all of her exes, for that matter, had loved the version of her that simply enhanced the existing scenery. The one who stayed bright and uncomplicated, always up for a drink, always fine. Alix the fun one, the fixer, the woman who made other people’s lives easier just by orbiting them.
