Grace set down her glass and plucked the phone straight from Alix’s hands. “You are unbelievable.”
“I’m sentimental,” Alix corrected. “We had some good times.”
Grace scrolled through the screen, a kick of nostalgia hitting her in the chest. She hadn’t opened the app since… well, over a year. Normally, she’d feel that panicky feeling, starting to consider whether Alix wanted a new Breakup Buddy instead of her. But now? She just smirked at the new tagline:Breakup Buddies — Get Over Them, With Us. “Charon on the River Styx, was it?”
“Well,” Alix said, taking a long sip of her drink. “It worked. I met you.”
Grace snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe,” Alix said, leaning in, turning on the ultimate cheesy smile. “But you love me anyway.”
Grace laughed and nearly dropped the phone. “I do. And because I do…” She tapped and held the icon until it wobbled, then hit delete.
Alix gasped theatrically. “You monster! That was a historical artifact!”
“It was. And now it’s gone,” Grace said, pocketing Alix’s phone. “You’re cured.”
Alix laughed, shaking her head. “Guess it’s a good thing I won’t need Breakup Buddies ever again.”
“Damn right, you won’t,” Grace said, leaning over to kiss her, slow and smiling. “I’m your forever breakup buddy.”
“Hmm,” Alix said, pretending to think about it. “Does being my forever breakup buddy include margarita refills and emotional validation?”
Grace lifted her glass. “Yes, but only if being my forever breakup buddy includes those handcu?—”
She was cut off by the sound of Connie and Helen scolding Phyllis for adding too much tequila to the new pitcher of margs, and they laughed.
“Whatever you were about to say, I’m obviously in,” Alix said, her voice lowered.
“Good girl.” Grace smiled into her glass as she watched Alix flush and fan herself.
“Hey,” Alix said after a long stretch of silence. “You know what would make this house even better?”
“If you say a motorcycle, I swear?—”
“A dog.”
Grace smiled into her drink. “Oh yeah?” She pretended like she hadn’t found the absolute perfect shelter dog already — a two-year-old pit bull who looked more like a tiny hippo than a dog and was good with cats. She pretended like she hadn’talready placed a hold on the pup, ready to take Alix to meet him tomorrow.
“I’m serious! One that hates the pool, unlike Baby, so I never have to save her.”
Grace laughed. “Then let’s go see what the local shelter has tomorrow.”
Alix turned toward her, eyes wide with an adorable hope. “Tomorrow? You mean it?”
“Of course I mean it. I’d let you bring home the moon if I thought you could reach it.”
“I’mverytall.” Alix leaned over, kissed her slow. It wasn’t a dramatic kiss — just one of those quiet, daily ones that built a life. When they pulled apart, Alix rested her forehead against Grace’s, whispering, “You make everything better, you know that?”
Grace smiled. “You make everythingpossible.”
For a while, they just stayed like that — the world settling around them in a haze of laughter and music and cicadas.
Lola called for another round of margaritas, Phyllis started telling a story about meeting Cher in an elevator (“She said hi first!”), and Icarus waddled proudly across the patio to demand attention from Ivy, who immediately abandoned her drink to rub his belly. Sheila peeked out from the screen door, glaring at the general noise level.
Grace leaned back against Alix, her chest pressed to Grace’s back, the scent of sun and salt in her hair.
“Look at this perfect life,” Alix murmured against her ear.
