Heartbeat Repeating - E.M. Lindsey Page 0,47

a little bit easier on him, but he’s just not good at this. He’s never been good at this. As a child he didn’t make friends because his OCD made him different, but he also never quite figured out how to say things that didn’t sound off-putting. He never quite had the patience for childhood, and he never thought it would matter until he became an adult. And now the only other person who talks to him with any regularity is his little brother, and Louis never encourages him behave with tact, even when the situation calls for it.

Fighting the urge to drag a hand down his face, he walks forward through the open doors and into the foyer. It’s rare when he actually thinks about where he lives, but there are moments when his life is put into perspective. Avery’s apartment is sheer luxury to most people, but humble to him, and it wasn’t always like that.

He had the same access to money back in England when he was carrying Gabrielle around in a hip sling, but their place was a three-room cottage with a loft and a garden that Connor tended to without help. The only non-family that ever crossed the threshold were the nannies and only when they were at work.

Other than that, Connor did dishes, and Alejandro folded laundry while Gabrielle flung socks across the room. And they took turns polishing mirrors and running the hoover across the floors. It felt normal, even if they never had to worry about things like money or bills. It felt simple, even when their cars and clothes were expensive, and their holidays were trips to Rome and Nice instead of the Brighton seaside.

And he’s aware of the type of person he is—and the types of people who are in his circle. And he’s aware of the vast divide between himself and someone like Avery, who is currently standing in the middle of the room like he’s got no idea what to do with himself.

“I,” Alejandro says then stops. “You can sleep anywhere you like.”

Avery lifts a brow at him, and his mouth twitches, and Alejandro expects him to say something cheeky, like, “I’ll sleep on the sofa or the dining room floor.”

Instead, he crosses the distance between them and curls his hand around the case handle, his pinky brushing Alejandro’s. “Thank you.”

The words are almost sharp and a little painful, and he knows he deserves them.

“What, er,” he says, taking a step back and shakes his head. “What do you want to do for Chanukah dinner? I looked it up, and the meals seemed simple. It’s not like that other holiday with the flat breads…”

“Pesach,” Avery says absently then grins. “No, no. My mom always does latkes and applesauce and sometimes she makes brisket, but my dad’s not supposed to have red meat anymore, so if they had too much over the high holidays, she’ll do turkey.”

Alejandro feels like he’s listening to a foreign language, and it shouldn’t be that way because if he’d paid closer attention over the last year, Avery wouldn’t be like a stranger to him. And he thinks it’s pointless to start now because it can’t last, but…well, something inside him desperately wants. “I’ll just come up with something then, shall I?”

Avery’s lip twitches again. “You’re going to cook?”

He can. He can cook—mostly. Simpler things because back when he was actively banging round the kitchen, the only thing he ever got really good at was heating up fish fingers and potato smiles. He’s not sure he trusts himself with latkes, but he realizes in that moment, he’d be willing to try.

“Hey,” Avery says very softly, and Alejandro startles when he feels warm fingers pressing around his wrist. He looks down into his dark eyes, and his breath catches in his chest because Avery is just so fucking beautiful. “I’m not going to judge you if you need your cook to help you out with a brisket.”

Alejandro runs his tongue over his bottom lip, then he takes a step back. “Feel free to put your ah…your menorah wherever you’d like.”

Avery lets out a sigh like he’s disappointed, then he brushes past Alejandro and disappears down the hall. Alejandro hears a door close, and it’s the one closest to the dining room, which means he chose the one they fucked in. All the evidence is gone, of course. His housekeeper cleaned everything and changed the sheets. It was aired out and freshened and the bins were emptied.

And