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Avery's laughter is light, a sound that eases the tension threading through my muscles. "No professional help needed, yet."
"Yet," Roman repeats, nodding sagely. "Wise answer."
I can feel the frown creasing my forehead deepen. Roman loves the spotlight, loves to stir the pot. But with Avery, it's different. She doesn't need his whirlwind right now—or maybe I don't.
"Roman," I cut in, "you must be wiped from your flight. Maybe it's time to hit the hay?"
"Exhausted," he agrees with a dramatic sigh, stretching his arms above his head. "And you're right. Good thing we have a three-bedroom setup here, otherwise we'd be cozying up together, and I'm not sure the world is ready for that."
It's like a punch to the gut when the realization hits me. Olivia. My eyes dart over to Avery, and I see the same recognition dawning on her face.
"Olivia's already claimed one of the guestrooms," I say quickly, my voice tight.
"Olivia?" Roman quirks an eyebrow, then his expression clears. "Oh, right, the little hockey pro in residence!"
"Exactly," I confirm, trying to keep the panic at bay, scrambling for some solution that doesn't involve displacing anyone—especially Avery.
But more on that later. For now, I just need to make sure Roman settles in without any more chaos than he's already caused.
"Hey, not to worry," Roman chimes in, catching the tail end of our silent exchange. "Avery and I can bunk up in the spare guestroom, no big deal."
I'm about to argue, but Avery beats me to it with a light-hearted response. "Oh, that's fine. I'll just share Olivia's bed. No need for musical rooms."
"Sharing a twin bed with a ten-year-old?" I raise an eyebrow. "No way am I letting you sleep on the floor," I insist. But Roman, oblivious to our conversation, has already disappeared into the guestroom with a casual, "Night, you two!"
It's at that moment that I realize he knew exactly what he was doing. He showed up early in order to cause this exact situation. I growl, frustration nipping at my heels like an annoying dog. Avery steps closer, her hand brushing mine, and suddenly the irritation ebbs away.
"Victor, relax," she says, her voice soothing. "I didn't expect Roman either. It's okay. Really."
"Sorry, I just—" I start, but she cuts me off.
"Let's just share your room if that's cool with you. No pressure, right?"
"Right," I agree, feeling the tension dissipate. She sneaks into Olivia's room, careful not to wake her and exits with her suitcase. I take it with a smile and then we head to my bedroom, our steps in sync, when Avery veers off into the kitchen.
"Wait here," she says with a conspiratorial smile and grabs a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Liquid courage," she adds, her eyes twinkling in the soft light.
"Lead the way," I say, trying to keep my voice even as my heart thumps a little louder in my chest.
I follow her into my bedroom and close the door behind us, placing her suitcase near my closet. The air feels thick with an unspoken promise, or maybe it's just a question hanging between us. I let out a slow breath, trying to steady myself, when really all I want is to pull her close and feel that peace she brings me.
"Thanks for letting me crash here," she says, looking around the room with a softness in her eyes that makes my chest tighten.
"Anytime," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. It's true, though; having her near has become a balm to the chaos of my dreams. But how do you tell someone they're your inadvertent dreamcatcher?
Avery uncorks the wine with practiced ease, pouring crimson liquid into glasses with a gentle swirl.She hands one to me, our fingers brushing, and I can't help but smile at the familiar tingle that follows her touch.
"Movie night?" she suggests, nodding toward the TV.
"Perfect." I manage a grin as my heart ticks up a notch.
She fishes out a delicate nightgown from her bag, the fabric slipping through her fingers like water. She catches me eyeing it and a playful smirk dances on her lips before she slips into the bathroom.
"Be right back," she calls out, the door clicking shut behind her.
Alone for a moment, I strip off my clothes, exchanging them for silk boxers—the only thing I seem to sleep well in anymore. I slide under the covers, the cool sheets a stark contrast to the warmth spreading through my veins.
"Ready when you are!" I call out, picking up the remote and flicking through the channels. My mind's a carousel of what-ifs, each thought spinning faster than the last. Avery, here with me—sharing wine, a movie, a bed. It's dangerously close to feeling like more than just a shared space.