Updated Apr 8, 2026 • ~10 min read
Chapter 3: Doing It Right
Sienna
Sienna has changed her outfit six times.
SIX.
Her bedroom looks like a tornado hit a boutique. Dresses everywhere. Jeans in a pile. That one blazer she wore to her college graduation because maybe it makes her look sophisticated?
No. Definitely not the blazer.
She’s currently wearing a simple black dress—not too fancy, not too casual, hits just above the knee—and she’s second-guessing EVERYTHING.
“You look hot,” her roommate Maya calls from the doorway. “Stop panicking.”
“I’m not panicking—”
“You’re panicking. I can hear you hyperventilating from the living room.”
Sienna sits on her bed and puts her head in her hands. “What if I’m boring? What if we run out of things to talk about? We’ve been texting all week but that’s DIFFERENT. In person I might just… freeze. Or worse, word-vomit everywhere and scare him off—”
“Sienna. BREATHE.”
She breathes.
“He asked you out,” Maya continues, leaning against the doorframe. “He’s been texting you nonstop. He LIKES you. You’re not going to mess this up.”
“You don’t know that—”
“I DO know that. Because you’re smart and funny and kind, and any man who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”
“But what if—”
The doorbell rings.
Sienna’s heart STOPS.
“That’s him,” Maya says with a grin. “Go. I’ll answer the door and stall. You do one final mirror check and get your ass out there.”
“I can’t do this—”
“You CAN. Now GO.”
Maya disappears down the hall. Sienna hears the door open. Hears Maya’s voice: “You must be Jace! I’m Maya, Sienna’s roommate and personal hype woman. She’ll be right out.”
Sienna stands. Checks the mirror. Her hair is down in loose waves. Minimal makeup—just enough to look polished, not enough to look like she’s trying too hard. The dress fits well. She looks… okay. Maybe better than okay.
She can do this.
She grabs her purse, takes one more deep breath, and walks down the hallway.
And then she sees him.
Oh.
Oh no.
Jace is standing in her living room in dark jeans and a charcoal blazer over a white button-down, and he looks like he stepped out of a magazine spread titled “Men Who Will Ruin Your Life in the Best Way.”
His hair is styled—not slicked back, just… intentionally messy. The silver at his temples catches the light. And when he turns and sees her, his entire face SOFTENS.
“Hi,” he says.
It’s just one word. One syllable. But the way he says it—warm and a little awed—makes her knees weak.
“Hi,” she manages.
They stare at each other for a beat too long.
Maya clears her throat. “Okay, you two are adorable and it’s making me nauseous. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That’s not a very high bar,” Sienna mutters.
“Exactly!” Maya grins and disappears into her bedroom.
Jace steps closer. “You look beautiful.”
Sienna’s face heats. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”
“I try.” He offers his arm. “Ready?”
She loops her arm through his, and the simple touch sends electricity racing up her skin.
“Ready,” she lies.
She’s not ready. Not even close. But she’s going anyway.
🔥
The restaurant is FANCY.
Like, white tablecloths and wine lists the size of novels and waiters who pull out your chair for you fancy.
Sienna has never been somewhere like this. Her usual idea of a nice dinner is Olive Garden with a coupon.
“Is this okay?” Jace asks as they’re seated. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but I thought—”
“It’s perfect,” she interrupts. “I’m just… a little underdressed.”
He looks at her like she’s lost her mind. “You’re the most beautiful person in this room.”
“You’re biased.”
“Absolutely. Doesn’t make it less true.”
The waiter appears with menus and a wine list. Jace orders a bottle of red—something Italian that Sienna’s never heard of—and then they’re alone again.
“So,” Jace says, folding his hands on the table. “First date. How am I doing so far?”
“Pretty well. You haven’t spilled anything on me yet.”
“The night is young.”
She laughs, and just like that, the nervousness eases. This is JACE. The man she’s been texting all week. The man who makes her feel like she’s not too much.
“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” she says.
He considers. “I’m left-handed. I hate seafood. And I’m terrified of heights, which is ironic given that I design skyscrapers.”
“Wait, really? How does that work?”
“Very carefully. And I don’t go up to the top floors during construction.”
“That’s actually adorable.”
“I prefer ‘charmingly flawed.'”
“That too.” She takes a sip of water. “Okay, my turn. I’m allergic to cats, I can recite the entire script of *The Princess Bride*, and I ugly-cry at every Pixar movie.”
“Every one?”
“EVERY one. Even *Cars 2*.”
“That’s… a talent.”
“It’s a curse. I can’t be trusted in movie theaters.”
The wine arrives. Jace pours for both of them, and Sienna tries not to think about how NICE this is. How easy. Like they’ve done this a hundred times before.
“Can I ask you something?” Jace says after a moment.
“Of course.”
“Why were you so nervous? At the coffee shop. About your job.”
Sienna twists the stem of her wine glass. “It’s my first real teaching position. I student-taught before, but this is MINE. My classroom. My students. And I just… I wanted it to go well. I wanted to be good at it.”
“And? How’s it going?”
“Good, I think. The kids are great. Chaotic, but great. There’s this one girl—Harper—she’s so smart. Asks a million questions. Keeps me on my toes.”
Jace smiles, but something flickers across his face. Too fast for her to read.
“You care about them,” he says. “Your students.”
“Of course I do. They’re KIDS. They deserve someone who cares.”
“Not everyone sees it that way.”
“Then not everyone should be a teacher.”
He’s looking at her like she’s just said something profound instead of basic human decency.
“What?” she asks.
“Nothing. Just… you’re exactly who I thought you were.”
“Is that good?”
“It’s perfect.”
Her face heats again. She takes a sip of wine to cover it.
“Your turn,” she says. “Why architecture?”
He leans back in his chair, considering. “My dad was a contractor. Blue-collar, worked with his hands. I grew up on construction sites. Loved watching things go from blueprints to buildings. But I wanted to be the one designing them, not just building them.”
“Did he support that?”
“Not at first. He thought I was being pretentious. ‘Why draw buildings when you can build them?’ But eventually, he came around. Showed up to my college graduation with a T-shirt that said ‘My son, the architect.'”
Sienna grins. “That’s sweet.”
“He died five years ago. Heart attack. But yeah. He was proud, in the end.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” He takes a sip of wine. “What about your family?”
And here’s the part where it gets complicated.
“My parents died when I was twelve,” she says. “Car accident. I was raised by my aunt.”
His expression shifts—softness, sympathy, UNDERSTANDING. “I’m so sorry, Sienna.”
“It was a long time ago. And my aunt is amazing. She’s the reason I became a teacher, actually. She was one. Taught elementary school for thirty years.”
“So you followed in her footsteps.”
“Yeah. I guess I wanted to be like her. Make a difference the way she did.”
“You are,” he says quietly. “Making a difference.”
“You don’t know that. You haven’t seen me teach.”
“I don’t need to. I can see it in the way you talk about your students. You CARE. That’s what matters.”
Sienna’s throat tightens. No one has ever said that to her before. That caring is enough.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
They hold eye contact for a beat too long, and the air between them CHARGES.
The waiter arrives with their food—perfectly timed to shatter the moment—and they spend the next hour eating and talking about everything. Favorite books. Worst movies. Childhood dreams. Current fears.
It’s EASY. Easier than it has any right to be.
And then, somewhere between dessert and coffee, Sienna asks the question that’s been sitting in the back of her mind all night.
“How old are you?”
Jace sets down his coffee cup. “Forty-one. Is that okay?”
She does the math. Fifteen years. That’s… a lot. But also, it doesn’t FEEL like a lot. It feels like they’re just two people who found each other.
“I’m twenty-six,” she says.
“I know.”
“You Googled me?”
“Guilty. I wanted to make sure you weren’t a serial killer.”
She laughs. “And your verdict?”
“Jury’s still out.”
“Fair.” She pauses. “Does the age thing bother you?”
“Does it bother YOU?”
“I asked first.”
He reaches across the table and takes her hand. His palm is warm, calloused, SOLID.
“It doesn’t bother me,” he says. “But I need you to be sure. Because I’m not looking for something casual. I’m too old for games.”
Her heart is pounding so hard she’s sure he can hear it.
“I’m not looking for casual either,” she says. “I’m looking for… this. Whatever this is.”
“Good.” He squeezes her hand. “Because I really, really like you.”
“I really, really like you too.”
They sit like that for a moment—hands linked across the table, the restaurant humming around them—and Sienna thinks: *This is it. This is the moment I’ll remember when I’m eighty.*
🔥
He walks her to her door at ten thirty.
The night air is warm, late summer clinging stubbornly to September. Sienna’s heels click on the pavement. Jace’s hand is on the small of her back, and she’s hyper-aware of every point of contact.
“Thank you for tonight,” she says when they reach her building. “I had a really great time.”
“Me too.” He’s standing close. Close enough that she can smell his cologne—woodsy and clean and HIM.
“So… can I see you again?” she asks.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Great minds.”
“Tuesday?” he suggests. “There’s an art exhibit at the museum I’ve been wanting to see.”
“I’d love that.”
“Good.”
They’re still standing too close. His eyes drop to her mouth. Her breath catches.
He’s going to kiss her. He’s going to kiss her and she’s going to spontaneously combust right here on her doorstep.
But then he takes a step back.
“I should go,” he says, and there’s a roughness to his voice that wasn’t there before.
“Oh. Okay.”
“I want to do this right, Sienna. And if I kiss you right now—” He stops. Clears his throat. “I want to do this right.”
Her heart is doing gymnastics. Full Olympic routine.
“Okay,” she says again, softer this time.
He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. The touch is so gentle it makes her chest ache.
“Goodnight, disaster,” he says.
“Goodnight, coffee thief.”
He waits until she’s inside, until she’s waved at him through the glass door, before he turns and walks back to his car.
Sienna leans against the door and lets out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.
Maya appears from the living room, grinning like the Cheshire cat. “Soooooo?”
“So.”
“DETAILS. Now.”
“It was perfect,” Sienna says, and she’s smiling so hard her face hurts. “He’s perfect. I think I’m in serious trouble.”
“Good trouble?”
“The BEST trouble.”
Her phone buzzes.
**Jace:** I’m already thinking about Tuesday.
**Sienna:** Me too.
**Jace:** Sleep well, Sienna.
**Sienna:** You too. And Jace?
**Jace:** Yeah?
**Sienna:** Thank you for doing this right.
**Jace:** You’re worth doing right.
Sienna locks her phone and looks at Maya, who’s watching her with knowing eyes.
“Yeah,” Maya says. “You’re in SO much trouble.”
“I know.”
And she can’t wait.
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