front door. It’s probably too cold to be standing out there, but the glow of the candles surrounds them, and the light breeze sends flakes brushing across their cheeks. When Alejandro turns Avery to face him, the younger man goes pliant in his hands, pushes into him like he’s always meant to be there.
“You will always know I love you,” he says, because if he’s going to say it to Avery’s mother, he’s going to tell him too.
Avery leans into his touch then goes up onto his toes as Alejandro bends down just a little. He’s not quite sure where he begins and Avery ends, but he supposes that’s the way love’s meant to be.
No space between.
Their lips meet as the wind picks up, and he feels flakes settle in his hair. Avery’s kiss is so hot against the winter night, and he knows that this is his miracle. He holds the moment close to his chest, right against his heart as he feels the way it’s changed beats. A new rhythm, stronger against the past pain and cradled between two hands he trusts will never, ever let him go.
Epilogue
Avery expects the warmth, but he doesn’t expect the heaviness of the air—the humidity so thick it’s almost tangible. He drags his fingers in the space in front of him like he can draw lines through it, and he imagines it rippling like the way hot pavement does in the desert. The flight was late—Alejandro’s work had some big tech emergency that even after a year, Avery still doesn’t understand. But it delayed their flight which is a ridiculous thing to say since it’s a private jet and they’re beholden to no one but the pilot and the availability of fuel.
Still, he felt as anxious as he’d ever been, pacing the floor of the penthouse and waiting for Alejandro to get home. He does, eventually. He steps out of the elevator and crosses the room and backs Avery into a kiss that makes his head spin and his toes curl. The swipe of a tongue has him forgetting his name, the drag of fingers has him losing grip on the fact that he’s about to see one of his dreams come true.
They reach the private landing strip late, and there’s a car waiting, but Avery’s half dead on his feet so he doesn’t notice much except the smell of sea and the fact that the night air is warm on his skin. The villa—which is such a sad, sorry word for the place that Alejandro has rented for him and his club—stretches across so much of the beach. It’s too dark to appreciate it, but he can hear the waves on the shore, and the terrace window is open in the master suite as he falls on the bed and lets Alejandro’s warm arms carry him into a restless slumber.
In the morning, the bed is cool and empty on his lover’s side, but he’s stopped panicking that Alejandro’s decided to pack up and leave him. Or well, he’s mostly stopped panicking about it. When they fight and one of them storms off, Avery will tremble and pace and spiral until Alejandro gives up a piece of his pride and reaches for him.
They’re on Crete though, and there’s none of that here. Avery spreads his arms and legs like a starfish and strains his ears to hear the sounds of his friends outside the terrace window. He smells something baking, and there’s hints of coffee on the breeze. For all that Alejandro’s life has been more than Avery could really imagine, this is the most surreal he’s felt since deciding to give his heart to the older man.
Pushing to his feet, Avery grabs his thin robe from the back of a chair where Alejandro left it, and he steps outside into the sun. He likes that it’s hot and humid, likes that swallowing down the air fills him. The waters beyond their villa are bright and intense, the waves crashing on the shores a foamy white. He’s not sure where the dig is, but they’re not going to have access to that just yet. Alejandro made the calls, got all the proper permits and things they needed to get their hands caked in ancient dirt, but first they have this.
A little vacation—a holiday, as Alejandro calls it with his lilting accent. They have four long, perfect days of each other’s company. He doesn’t expect to see his friends much, and he’s okay