evicted him. Game over.”
“Was it only a game?”
Perceptive, his brother. But of course he was. Nico knew everything about him. “You smell like Luci’s perfume.”
“Alexander . . .”
“No. But I need to know if it’s real, or if I truly have had an aneurism. I couldn’t do that with him in the house.” Even if Logan’s “good enough to keep” had nearly broken him.
Nico laughed softly. “How long will that take to figure out?”
“It should take me a little while. It would be ridiculous if I knew after a few nights.”
Nico smacked a kiss on his forehead. “Let me help you move this.”
Alexander pushed to his feet and let Nico carry the daisies into his office. He set the vase on the desk. The bright white and yellow lit up the room.
“Your keys, Nico.”
“What for?” Nico asked, handing them over.
Holding his keys by the monster truck keychain, Alexander peeled off his home key and swapped it with Nico’s. “My place is yours for the next year.”
Nico laughed. “You can’t think I’d go through with that!”
“Three weeks wasn’t enough. I need to step away from my perfect house, embrace change, flexibility, spontaneity.”
“Alexander.”
“You’re a good brother.”
“But?”
“I need you to follow through with this.”
Nico frowned. “Why start now? We can move properly this weekend.”
“I don’t think I can sleep in mine another night without . . .”
Nico’s big eyes softened. “Understood. But I need something to change into. You too.”
Alexander handed him back both keys, and Nico left, promising he’d be right back to drop his set off.
The daisies seemed to glow to the beat of his sad, frustrated, hopeful heart. He texted Logan.
Alexander: The daisies are beautiful.
* * *
Logan: Glad they arrived. How’re you doing?
* * *
Alexander: Okay. Kind of hopeful, and tomorrow aiming for content.
* * *
Logan: Same here.
* * *
Logan: Can I bring you coffee tomorrow?”
* * *
Alexander: Yes, I’d like that.
* * *
Logan: Maybe after, I can dismantle them nutz from your car?
* * *
Alexander: The keyring can stay.
He’d grown attached to it. He’d grown attached to the person who gave it to him.
Don’t type it. Don’t type it. You need more time.
Alexander: I suppose all that dismantling will make you hungry.
* * *
Logan: Ravenous.
Alexander invited his friend to dinner.
Chapter Twenty-Four
LOGAN
* * *
Logan missed Alexander.
They’d had coffee together that afternoon, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Logan needed this dinner like he needed air.
He might be fit, but these stairs killed him. He rounded the tenth floor of the stairwell, panting, choking a bottle of sauvignon blanc.
He caught his breath in the hall, squared his shoulders, and knocked on Nico’s door. Partially open already, it pushed in. “Hey.”
Alexander responded from inside, a muffled “come in.”
He toed out of his shoes, calling around the short division that obscured the kitchen from view. “Dinner smells delicious. As always.”
The view of the living room and kitchen opened up into a cascade of reds and golds and dark wood, and there, the most golden of all, Alexander stood testing sauce from a wooden spoon, wearing an emerald apron over a crisp shirt, pressed shorts, and ankle socks. Flour dusted his apron, his forearm and cheek, and Logan felt like he’d come home.
“Tastes delicious too,” Alexander said frankly. That self-confidence had Logan longing to wrap his arms around Alexander’s chest and kiss him.
He set the wine on the counter. Where was their chaperone for the evening hiding?
Nico would be handy right now. Good call, to have dinner here. Far too tempting otherwise.
“Thanks for the wine,” Alexander murmured.
“I figured we might need it.”
Alexander laughed. “Quite possibly.”
“How are you this evening?” Logan asked reflexively as he double checked the balcony.
Alexander’s voice trailed across the room. “Fine. Nervous.” Alexander hurriedly added, “About the showcase tomorrow. You?”
“Same. Nervous. For the audition, but mostly for now.”
“How prepared are you for tomorrow?” Alexander asked. A cork popped.
Maybe Nico had left to get an ingredient Alexander needed? “I’ve been practicing my lines all day, but every time I . . .” end up thinking about us. He faced Alexander. “Where’s your brother?”
“I believe he’s out at a movie with Luci.”
Discomfort churned in his stomach. “Why are we eating here?”
Alexander continued pouring pasta from a pot into a glass bowl. “Dinner’s ready.”
Logan followed Alexander to the set table. “Ravioli!”
“Homemade,” Alexander said, dishing some into his bowl. “With goat’s cheese. I noticed you always avoid blue cheese.”
Alexander kept dishing and dishing, and Logan halted him—hand below his watch—as he scooped more from the bowl.
“Alexander?” That blue gaze blasted him with so much emotion that