Friday evening after the Spring Concert, which had been a resounding success, with Alexander cheering louder than any parent in the audience, the Steele house felt different. Lighter somehow, as if Alexander's choice to prioritize his children had shifted something fundamental in their family dynamic.
"Movie night!" Emma declared, bouncing on the living room couch in her pajamas. "Daddy promised we could pick any movie we wanted!"
Alexander looked slightly panicked. "Within reason, sweetheart. Maybe something... age-appropriate?"
"Frozen!" both twins shouted in unison.
"Again?" Alexander asked, but his smile was indulgent. "Haven't you seen that movie approximately fifty times?"
"Fifty-three times," Ethan corrected seriously. "But Sophia hasn't seen it with us yet. It's her first family movie night!"
The casualness with which Ethan included Sophia in their family traditions made her chest warm. Three weeks ago, she'd been a stranger interviewing for a job. Now she was apparently essential to their movie night experience.
"I'll make popcorn," Sophia offered, starting toward the kitchen.
"I'll help," Alexander said, following her.
In the kitchen, Alexander moved with surprising efficiency, pulling out a large pot while Sophia gathered butter and salt. Their movements were synchronized, domestic, as if they'd done this dance hundreds of times before.
"Thank you," Alexander said quietly as he heated oil in the pot. "For today. For pushing me to make the right choice."
"You made the choice, Alexander. I just reminded you that you had one."
"Emma's face when she saw me in the audience..." Alexander's voice was soft with wonder. "I'd forgotten how it felt to be her hero instead of her disappointment."
Sophia watched him carefully measure popcorn kernels, his usual corporate precision applied to this simple family task. "You were never her disappointment. You were just... absent."
"Same thing, from a six-year-old's perspective."
The first kernels began to pop, filling the kitchen with the warm, homey scent that somehow made everything feel more intimate. Alexander stood close enough that Sophia could smell his cologne, he'd changed from his concert-appropriate suit into dark jeans and a navy sweater that made his gray eyes look almost silver.
"I used to do movie nights with Elena and the babies," Alexander said, his voice distant with memory. "Every Friday, without fail. She'd make elaborate snacks and I'd build pillow forts, and we'd all pile together on the couch."
"What happened to movie nights after...?"
"After she died?" Alexander's mouth twisted sadly. "The first Friday night without her, Emma asked if we were still having movie night. I told her Daddy was too tired. The second Friday, Ethan asked. I said maybe next week. By the third Friday, they stopped asking."
Sophia's heart ached for all of them, for the children who'd lost their mother and their family traditions, and for the father who'd been too broken to maintain the joy they all desperately needed.
"Tonight's a new beginning," she said gently.
"Is it?" Alexander turned to face her fully, his eyes searching her face. "Or am I just pretending I can be the father they need?"
"You are the father they need. You just forgot for a while."
The popcorn was popping frantically now, but neither of them moved to tend it. They stood facing each other in the warm kitchen, the space between them charged with something that had nothing to do with family dynamics and everything to do with the way Alexander was looking at her,.like she was something precious and unexpected.
"Sophia," Alexander said quietly, and her name on his lips sounded different somehow. More intimate. "I don't know how to thank you for what you've given us."
"You don't need to thank me. This is my job."
"Is it?" Alexander stepped closer, close enough that she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact. "Because it feels like more than a job. It feels like..."
"Like what?"
"Like home," Alexander said simply. "For the first time since Elena died, this house feels like home again."
The air between them seemed to shimmer with possibility. Sophia found herself studying the gold flecks in Alexander's gray eyes, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the strong line of his jaw. When had she started noticing these details? When had her professional admiration for her employer shifted into something more dangerous?
"Alexander," she whispered, not sure if she was warning him away or inviting him closer.
"DADDY! SOPHIA! THE POPCORN!" Emma's voice shrieked from the living room, breaking the spell.
They sprang apart, both reaching for the pot at the same time. Their hands collided, Alexander's fingers closing over hers as they moved the pot off the heat together.
"Saved by popcorn," Alexander said wryly, but he didn't immediately let go of her hand.
"Probably for the best," Sophia replied, though every nerve in her body was screaming the opposite.
They loaded bowls with popcorn and returned to the living room, where Emma and Ethan had constructed an impressive pillow fort around the couch. The twins had claimed the center cushions, leaving the ends for the adults.
"Perfect timing," Emma announced as Alexander settled onto one end of the couch. "Sophia, you sit by Daddy!"
Before Sophia could protest or suggest alternative seating arrangements, Emma had grabbed the remote and started the movie. Sophia found herself sinking onto the couch beside Alexander, acutely aware of his warmth even though they weren't quite touching.
Twenty minutes into Frozen, Ethan was fast asleep against Alexander's shoulder, his small body completely relaxed in his father's arms. Emma was still wide awake, singing along to every song with enthusiastic if not entirely accurate lyrics.
"Do you want to build a snowman?" Emma sang, looking expectantly at Sophia and Alexander.
"I think Anna has it covered," Alexander said with amusement, but Emma was undeterred.
"Come on, sing with me! Please?"
Sophia found herself humming along, then actually singing the words quietly. Alexander listened for a moment, then joined in with a surprisingly good baritone that harmonized perfectly with Emma's enthusiasm and Sophia's softer melody.
"This is the best movie night ever," Emma declared during the instrumental break. "We sound like a real family!"
The innocent words hit both adults like a physical blow. A real family. Is that what they looked like from the outside? Alexander with his sleeping son in his arms, Sophia curled beside them, Emma sprawled across all their legs like she owned them?
The movie continued, but Sophia found it impossible to focus on the animated adventure. Instead, she was hyperaware of Alexander's presence beside her, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the gentle way he stroked Ethan's hair, the occasional brush of his arm against hers when he shifted position.
During "Let It Go," Emma fell asleep against Sophia's side, her small hand curled trustingly around Sophia's arm. Which left Sophia and Alexander essentially alone together on the couch, two sleeping children creating an intimate cocoon around them.
"We should probably carry them to bed," Alexander whispered, but neither of them moved.
"Probably," Sophia agreed, making no effort to disturb Emma.
The credits began to roll, casting flickering shadows across the darkened living room. Alexander used the remote to mute the sound, leaving them in comfortable silence broken only by the twins' peaceful breathing.
"This was nice," Alexander said quietly. "I'd forgotten how good it felt to just... be still with them."
"They needed this. You all did."
"What about you?" Alexander's voice was soft in the darkness. "What do you need, Sophia?"
The question was loaded with implications that made Sophia's pulse quicken. What did she need? She needed job security and health insurance and enough money to take care of her grandmother. She needed professional boundaries and emotional distance and a clear understanding of her role in this family.
What she wanted was something else entirely.
"I need..." Sophia started, then stopped. In the dim light from the muted TV, Alexander was watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch. "I need to not complicate things."
"And would this complicate things?" Alexander asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "This feeling between us?"
So he felt it too. The pull, the awareness, the way every innocent touch sent electricity through her entire body.
"Alexander..."
"I know it's not appropriate. I know you work for me, that there are boundaries, that this could ruin everything." Alexander's voice was rough with honesty. "But I can't pretend I don't feel it anymore."
Neither could she. The attraction that had been building for weeks, the way her heart raced when he smiled at her, the devastating tenderness with which he'd cared for her when she was sick.
"We can't," Sophia whispered, but even as she said the words, she was leaning closer to him.
"I know," Alexander replied, his hand coming up to cup her cheek with heartbreaking gentleness. "But I want to."
In the flickering light of the television, with his sleeping children creating a circle of trust around them, Alexander Steele looked at Sophia Martinez like she was everything he'd been missing.
And God help her, she wanted to be.
"Alexander," she breathed, and this time it wasn't a warning.
It was an invitation.