She’d heard him coming. He sang as he made his way through the flat. The uneven tone and lilt to his voice gave her immeasurable comfort. Anthony had never sung. Not in the car or alone in the shower. He’d never even sung along to ABBA when one of their songs came on the radio. Everyone sang along to ABBA. “Dance with me, Torres,” Jared invited. “I don’t really feel like dan—” “Of course you don’t. Dance with me anyway?” And using his left hands—both of them—he twirled her lightly into his arms and boogied his way through the lounge room and into her bedroom. Ava only tripped over his feet once before they made it to the bathroom, and he caught her before she stumbled, so it didn’t really count. He crooned in her ear the entire way, words that made no sense, to a tune she didn’t recognize. By the time he pulled them both to a stop beside the tub, she was giggling at the sheer silliness of her friend.
