Page 17 of Sir Avery's Wish
Gabe had been hinting around for years that he was interested, and Avery had gone out of his way not to lead him on.
“I’m sure the butter my dinner will be swimming in would disagree.” He gave Gabe a genuine smile, but needed to end the conversation. “Good to see you.”
Gabe’s expression fell, but he quickly recovered. “Great to see you too, sir.”
Avery stepped into the dining room, noting that Zane was at their usual table. After shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the hook attached to the tall wood posts at the end of each half-moon booth, he slid into his seat. Zane glanced up from his tablet then shut it off, pushing it to one side.
“Traffic wasn’t too bad?”
Avery adjusted himself on the microsuede surface, then folded his hands on the table. “Not terrible, I even managed to find a parking spot on the street.”
Zane let out a soft chuckle. “That’s a miracle.” He relaxed against the booth. “So tell me. Are you feeling better today?”
Avery didn’t need to ask Zane what he was inquiring about. Undoubtedly, Zane was as curious about his preoccupation with Eli as he himself was.
“I’m relieved he’s not on the streets anymore, and that he’s being looked out for by someone I trust.”
Zane snorted. “I should hope you trust us.”
Avery rolled his eyes. “Just a tad.”
“Are you ready to eat yet, or do you want to start off with something to drink?”
“Drink.” Avery sighed. “I won’t be playing tonight.”
Zane signaled the server, who came and took their order. After he left, Zane turned to Avery again.
“When’s the last time you made full use of your membership?”
Avery ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of Zane's question. It had been weeks, possibly months, since he'd done more than make an appearance at the club.
“Too long,” he admitted. “The hotel’s been demanding most of my attention.
Zane’s eyebrow arched skeptically. “The hotel that practically runs itself at this point? With your competent staff who you've trained to perfection?”
Heat crept up Avery's neck. “There’s always something that needs handling. For example, the situation with the chef right now.” He upturned his palms, like he was signaling that he had no choice. “As you know, I’m very hands-on with the restaurant.”
“Mmm,” Zane hummed. “And it has nothing to do with you avoiding connections?”
Their drinks arrived—a neat scotch for Avery and some craft cocktail for Zane that looked too colorful to be taken seriously. Avery took a generous sip, letting the warm burn coat his throat.
“I’m not avoiding anything. It’s a responsibility.”
“And what about your responsibility to yourself?” Zane's voice softened. “You can’t pour from an empty cup, my friend.”
Avery stared into his glass, watching the coppery liquid catch the light. He’d never been one for empty metaphors, but this one felt uncomfortably accurate. When had he last felt satisfied? Not only as an accomplished businessman, but also as a contented man?
“My cup is fine,” Avery said, though even he could hear how hollow the words sounded.
Zane leaned forward, his expression growing more serious. “Is it? Because from where I’m sitting, you look like you haven’t slept a full night in weeks. And now you're fixated on some kid you met for five minutes.”
The observation stung because it was true. Avery had caught glimpses of himself in mirrors lately—the shadows under his eyes, the increase in gray hair. He’d told himself it was the stress of the chef situation, but that had only been going on for a week.
“I'm not fixated.” Avery took another sip, silently willing the server to arrive with their food.
Zane's laugh was sharp enough to cut through the ambient restaurant noise. “Right. So tell me about this non-fixation of yours.”
Avery set his glass down harder than necessary, the sharp clunk against the table echoing his irritation. “There’s nothing to discuss. He needed help, you provided it. End of story.”
