Chapter Twelve
ALIX
Alix was still reelingfrom the dance floor. She could feel Grace’s palm at her hip like a brand, the ghost of her fingers at the back of her neck, the phantom press of a thigh sliding between hers for the briefest half beat. The whole house was shaking with music, but Alix’s pulse had been louder. She’d been a single wrong step from closing that final inch and kissing Grace.
Now, walking through Grace’s mother’s kitchen, she told herself to get a grip. She hadn’t kissed Grace. She hadn’t crossed the line. But God, she’d wanted to. It had been a long time since wanting felt this sharp, this uncontrollable. Kirstin had been easy to read, and wanting her had been a choice. With Grace, it felt like she’d been swept into a riptide, too forceful to escape now.
Grace’s cousins were clustered by the counter, leaning against cabinets, cups in hand. Teresa, the one with hair teased high and hoops that could double as bracelets, looked Alix up and down. “Bold move,bringing a vegan girl to Thanksgiving.”
The comment was tossed like a dart, casual and teasing, but Alix caught the flash of tension in Grace’s shoulders, the way she looked ready to shrink from the heat of the spotlight.
Alix’s instinct to protect came out before she could think better of it. She widened her grin, lifting her arms like she was hosting a game show. “Oh, come on. I’m the dream guest. More pork for you guys. More leftovers to pack up. I’m basically a Thanksgiving multiplier.”
Laughter rippled through the group, loud and warm, defusing the moment. Grace’s posture loosened, her expression flickering between relief and disbelief. Alix winked at her like she’d meant to be that smooth. Inside, she was buzzing.
She wanted Grace to see she wasn’t a liability. She wanted to belong here, wanted to be accepted by these loud, affectionate people because it would make Grace’s eyes fill with that tender warmth again.
Except Alix knew that wanting that — wanting her — was a dangerous slope. Even as she tried to pull apart the threads of Grace’s mannerisms and words and micro-expressions to embroider a future, she knew that ultimately, they were two emotionally unavailable women looking for friendship. She wasn’t going to ruin that. At least not first.
Later, Grace was pulled into a conversation with an uncle muttering something about off-the-record legal advice, leaving Alix standing at the food table with Connie. Grace’s mother had presence; she radiated the kind of authority that made Alix sit straighter without being told.
“Fill your plate,” Connie said, pressing a plate into her hands before she could protest.
Alix hesitated. “Uh, which ones are safe for me?”
“They’re all safe.” Connie nodded solemnly. “Vegan, right? I’m sure you’ve never tasted anything like this.”
Alix blinked. “Really?” She eyed the table. “This is all vegan?” She remembered the beans that Grace had gotten for her at the moonlighting KFC… She’d been suspicious then, but how could she be suspicious of Grace’s mom now?
Connie pointed to each dish in turn, narrating like a tour guide. “Rice and beans. Vegan. Yuca with mojo. Vegan. Avocado salad. Vegan. Plantains. Vegan.” Finally, she gestured to the glossy pile of fried pork rinds. “Chicharrones. Vegan.”
Alix froze, plate in hand. She knew what pork looked like, had even grown up in a family of fervent carnivores, but Connie’s expression was so steady, so confident, it was easier to believe her than to question it. Grace’s mom wouldn’t lie, would she?
And God, the last thing she wanted was to be the picky outsider. Vegan people were always so annoying to non-vegans, and she was extremely self-conscious of her eating habits in this space. She wanted to be easy, someone Grace’s family liked. Someone who made things simpler, not harder.
So she nodded and dug in.
The first bite of chicharrón made her knees weak. It was hard to tear initially, but then it shattered in her mouth, salty and smoky and decadent. She almost moaned, clamping her lips shut. “Oh wow,” she whispered. “This is unreal.”
Connie beamed. “See? Vegan.”
Alix wanted to believe it. She wanted to trust the warmth in Connie’s eyes, to imagine that for once the world had conspired to make something easy.
Her ease lasted only three more seconds.
Connie set down her wineglass and gave Alix a look that was both friendly and mildly terrifying. “So,” she said, drawing out the word like it had weight. “You and my daughter.”
Alix nearly choked on a bite of beans. “Me and your — oh.Oh.We’re just friends, I promise.”
Connie smiled, entirely too calm.
Alix put her fork down, trying to play it cool and failing. “We’re both going through similar life things, so it’s been nice talking to her and getting to know her. It’s… She’s…” She gave up and exhaled. “Your daughter is kind of amazing, if I’m being honest.”
Connie laughed with clear affection, pleased but unsurprised. “She always has been. Even when she was little. She used to organize the other kids at the park into committees. Had clipboards.”
“Of course she did,” Alix said, grinning. “I can absolutely see that.”
“She’s a handful sometimes,” Connie said, tilting her head.
