I laughed and shook my head. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m being serious,” he said, his voice lowering, his hand still at my cheek. “Sometimes we see someone and they just suit us. They’re beautiful to us in every way. You’re that person to me.”

Well. How was I supposed to reply to that? He’d always had a way with words, always knew exactly the right thing to say to melt my bones. It seemed in all these years he hadn’t lost that ability.

“You’re that person to me, too,” I finally managed to whisper in response.

King’s chest rose and fell sharply, a turmoil in his eyes. I knew exactly how he was feeling, because I was feeling it just the same. We wanted each other, but it was too soon. He wasn’t well, and I had to give him time to heal, to gain a level of stability. So I simply cuddled closer into him, and enjoyed what he could give me in that moment.

And it was enough.

***

The following day I had my assistant, Dara, cover for me for the afternoon so I could leave work early to go and see King. Our time together the previous evening had gone so well, and I was eager to spend more time with him. When I bumped into Matilda, she told me she’d seen him walking towards the gazebo, so I went in that direction. The place was crowded with people having lunch, a lot of hustle and bustle, and I couldn’t spot King at first.

Almost every seat in the place was taken, and as I scanned the heads, looking for his recognisable long blond hair, I spotted him sitting alone in the far corner. I got the feeling that most of the circus workers tended to avoid him. Making my way past the people, I saw that there was a meal in front of him. A dark-skinned man walked past, saw King, and pulled a small bottle of vodka from his coat. When he spoke, his accent sounded foreign.

“King, my friend, got a little something for you.” He placed the bottle down on the table, patted him on the shoulder, and walked off. King’s eyes went to the bottle, and I stood there, staring in disbelief at the man as he walked away. Did he not know that King was trying to give up drinking, or was he intentionally trying to sabotage him?

My skin began to prickle as worry coiled tight in my belly. King’s hand moved toward the bottle then stilled, his palm resting flat on the table. His jaw firmed, and his hand formed a fist. I forced my feet to move until I was standing before him.

“What are you thinking right now?” I asked, keeping my voice level as his eyes rose to meet mine.

He was momentarily surprised to see me there, but then he winced when he realised I’d witnessed him about to pick up the vodka. He looked ashamed. “I’m thinking that I really want to grab that bottle and down the whole fucking thing.”

“Why would that man give you alcohol?”

“His name is Pedro. We used to drink together a lot. I’m not sure he knows I’ve given up.”

“Right now you don’t look like a man who believes he’s truly given up. You look like a man who’s tempted.”

King let out a long breath, his mouth firming into a hard line. “Of course I’m tempted. This isn’t easy, Alexis.”

My gaze softened, along with my tone. “I know it’s not easy. I’m on your side, never forget that. But think about it this way — if you drink that bottle, you’re back to square one. If you don’t, you’re taking another step towards getting better. You want to get better, don’t you?”

His expression was fierce. “Of course. I don’t want to go back to how things were, but fuck, Alexis, I….” He took another mournful look at the bottle, clenched his fist again, and then abruptly shoved it off the table until it smashed onto the floor. The shatter caused a few people to look up from their lunches, but nobody said anything. King ran a hand through his hair and stared up at me, his eyes pleading, “Distract me.”

Taking a seat across from him, I dug into my handbag and pulled out my monthly planner. It was where I kept all my work appointments, because I preferred hard copy. From the inside of the leather cover, I pulled out the Polaroid I’d kept there for years. Often I’d take it out and just stare at it, remembering that day on the beach in Rome and how King had taken two pictures. I’d kept one, and he’d kept the other. I placed it down on the table and slid it across to him.

“Do you remember when you took this?” I asked gently.

King marvelled at the picture, picking it up carefully like he might damage it. “Yes,” he whispered.

“I love how you looked at me.”

His eyes flickered to mine. “I adored you.”

“And I adored you,” I replied with a sigh. “I still adore you.”

His throat moved in a way that made me think he had difficulty swallowing, and his brows knit together. Quite like me, he wasn’t used to accepting compliments these days. He placed the picture back down before rummaging in his pocket. My heart jolted when I saw he had the other Polaroid, the one of me in my swimsuit, smiling into the camera like I hadn’t a care in the world. Lille had mentioned it in her letter, saying how King would go crazy if anyone tried to steal it from him. It must have been just as much of a comfort to him as mine had been to me.

“I kept mine, too,” he said, a thread of sadness in his voice. “How funny that I’ve lost so many things over the years, have been so far gone that there are whole weeks I can’t remember, and yet I’ve always managed to keep this picture safe.”

A tiny silence elapsed before I replied thickly, “Maybe you didn’t want to forget everything. Maybe there were some memories you wanted to keep.”

His eyes found mine, intense and probing, “Yes, maybe so.”

***

Almost two weeks passed, and I arranged for my parents to have Oliver for a couple of nights. I didn’t like being away from him, but I needed the time with King. It was a critical period. He was making progress, and I felt like having me near was helping. That was only a tiny part of it though. After resisting the vodka, his own inner strength was beginning to shine through, his determination taking over. It was like when he was younger, and he’d work through the night in order to do the best job he could. That potent drive was returning, and he was using it in his quest to give up alcohol for good. Don’t get me wrong, he had a few worrying moments where he really, really wanted a drink, but with my help and the help of his friends, he managed to stay strong.

And strong was what he needed to be, because he was sick a lot during those two weeks. In fact, it was a horrible time. I’d been doing a lot of reading up on alcoholism, but it felt like every case was different. Successful recovery all depended on the individual.

Marina let us have lots of time in her camper. I tried helping King with his medicines and such, but he didn’t want me around for that. He even got a little cranky at one point, saying he was quite capable and didn’t need a nurse. It might have rubbed me up the wrong way if it didn’t make me so unbelievably happy. In fact, I was happier to have him do stuff himself than to rely on anyone else for help. Supporting himself meant he had a greater chance of succeeding.

Then the night of the concert came, and my stomach was doing somersaults the whole day leading up to it. I was scared that King would be pissed at me for tricking him, but I was determined to take the chance. The potential payoff was worth the risk.

Dressing up, I wore a dark blue body-con dress with black heels, and styled my hair into glossy curls. I wanted to look good for King. In fact, the anticipation of seeing him was almost too much. We hadn’t really touched since our dinner together in the restaurant, but there was always that energy between us. It was a little addictive.

I decided to leave my car at home and instead splash out on a taxi. This way I wouldn’t have to worry about finding a parking spot. I texted Lille as I sat in the back, having just given my makeup one last check in my vanity mirror. The driver gave me a sarcastic, “Yer gorgeous, lav.” Total cockney geezer. He reminded me of my dad’s friends. You know, the kind of blokes who can’t help making these annoying little comments, like, Smile, it might never happen. It was a real special kind of wanker who came out with that one.