“Anywhere. I never really care where I’m going, so long as it’s somewhere different than before. Somehow, though, I always manage to find my way back.”

Something painful hit me right in the chest, as I comprehended what he was saying. “And when you wander,” I whispered, “where do you sleep?”

“On the streets.”

“Oliver,” I said, my voice wavering.

“You’re upset,” he stated.

“Of course I’m upset. You’ve been sleeping on the streets, and yet you’ve had this place here all along.”

“I told you, I stopped thinking of it as mine.”

“Well, you need to start again. Because this is your home.”

His face grew strained. “Alexis, I haven’t had a proper home, my own bed, in a really long time.” He paused, looked around, and gestured with his hands. “All of this is going to take a lot of getting used to.”

On one level, what he said irritated me. This place was his, for crying out loud. But on another level, I completely understood where he was coming from. The apartment was practically palatial, and everything in it was expensive and luxury. My own house was positively quaint compared to this penthouse.

My voice was quiet as I offered, “You can come and stay with me, if you like. My house is seriously tiny. It could be a way of phasing you in.” I shot him a smile, for a moment forgetting that he couldn’t come and stay with me until I told him about Oliver. I had to tell him about Oliver; I was just waiting for the right moment, which never seemed to arrive.

“I couldn’t impose on you,” he said, and walked to the rack to pull off a towel. He neared me, towel in hand, then knelt in front of the tub. I watched with rapt attention as he reached in and lifted out one foot and then the other, drying both with care. His thumb rubbed down the arch of my foot, applying just the right amount of pressure. I had to bite my lip not to groan, because it felt so good.

“You don’t have to do that,” I said, while at the same time not wanting him to stop. His eyes came to mine, and the towel fell away as he looked back down and started to examine my feet. Sucking in a harsh breath, he said, “You need to bandage these cuts.”

“They’ll be fine.”

He shot me a look of reprimand, and I shut my mouth.

“I think I used to keep a first aid kit in here somewhere,” he said, and looked in the cupboard over the sink. Sure enough, there was a white box inside. He pulled it out and began looking for antiseptic cream and Band-Aids.

“The song you were playing inside, it was lovely,” I said as he worked.

“Yeah, I was watching the woman play tonight, and I realised something.” He frowned, hands stilling on my foot.

“What was that?”

His gaze met mine. “That I was jealous.”

I didn’t know what to say, but then he continued talking. “I wanted what she had so badly, it was almost a physical type of pain. I’ve been away from real music for so long that I didn’t realise how much I needed it. It used to be my favourite thing, something I did to decompress. But now it feels like I can’t breathe if I don’t get it back.”

My lips grew dry, still not knowing what to say. “Well, I’m just glad you enjoyed the concert.”

“I did. Thank you for taking me there. I know it took a lot of courage.”

He held my foot in his hand, fingers deliciously warm on my skin. I stared, transfixed, as he began to feel his way up my shin. My lips grew drier. In fact, I was dying of thirst right then, and it wasn’t for water. King’s mouth hung open a little as he admired my bare legs, his eyes wandering as far as my thighs before they came to my face. We communicated silently, and seconds later he was pulling me to him, water splashing as he caught me. His hands gripped either side of my neck, and he lowered his mouth to mine.

The kiss was soft at first, maybe even a little hesitant, but then his tongue slid ever so slightly against my own, and I moaned deep in my throat. The sound caused King to let out a quiet grunt as his fingers dug into my skin and the kiss deepened. Every fibre of my being came alive as our tongues tangled, our lips biting, nibbling, seeking, and I felt the spot between my thighs grow wet and needful.

I might have come from the kiss alone, it was that intense. We kissed like our lives depended on it, like we were dying of thirst in the desert, and I would have been embarrassed by my obvious need if he hadn’t matched it with his own. Long minutes passed, but his fingers never wandered from my neck and mine never left the front of his shirt, the material bunched in my fists. The fact that we were barely touching made it so much more feverish. It was only when I moaned a second time, much louder than before, and King gave a deep, masculine growl, that I knew I had to break the kiss. If we didn’t end this, he was going to be inside me soon, and I knew I wouldn’t have the willpower to stop him.

My chest was heaving as I broke away, seeing stars, all of them gold like his hair. We locked gazes, and it was at that very moment that I blurted out, “There’s someone I need you to meet.”

Twenty-One

King didn’t want to stay in his apartment that night, and no matter how much I tried to convince him to give it a try, he was determined to return to the circus. He wanted what was familiar, and his old apartment was foreign to him now.

We shared a cab, and I made him promise to meet me the following day at two, because I wanted to go see the show and introduce him to a friend. What he didn’t know was that the friend wasn’t a friend, but our son. I’d decided that there wasn’t ever going to be a perfect time to tell him, and that showing him would explain things far better than any words.

Elaine had come over for breakfast, and we were currently sitting at the table, drinking coffee and eating pancakes. You always knew I was overcompensating when I made pancakes. Oliver was in the living room, eating a bowl of Cheerios and watching television. He didn’t want the pancakes for some reason and was determined to have cereal. Oh, the whims of a five-year-old.

“I have to tell you something,” I said nervously, and Elaine glanced up from the magazine she’d been browsing. Her naturally pale eyebrows arched in concern as she sensed my apprehension.

“Yes, darling?” she said, giving me a warm, open smile. Did I mention how much I loved that she called me darling? She had this well-bred, upper-class fanciness about her. Sometimes I felt like maybe I could gain some of it by osmosis.

Okay, in for a penny, in for a pound. I didn’t want to beat around the bush, and Elaine wasn’t so vulnerable these days that she couldn’t handle a bit of a shocker.

“I found Oliver.”

She blinked at me in disbelief, her eyes darting to the doorway that led to the living room. “You mean, my Oliver?”

I nodded.

She got up from the table and began fanning herself with her hands as she paced back and forth. I watched tensely, worried that she might have a meltdown. Thankfully, that didn’t happen. Her voice was breathy with emotion and excitement when she finally spoke. “How did you find him? I mean, where is he?”

I told her to sit down and that I’d explain everything. And I did. All about Lille’s letter and how King had a half-sister who owned a circus, how he’d been living with her for years. How sick he’d become and how he was slowly trying to get better. She was wide-eyed and speechless by the time I’d finished recounting it all.

“Do you think he’ll want to see me?” she asked timidly.

“I know he does. He just wants to get better first, make himself presentable.”

She nodded, her eyes watery as she stared over my shoulder, and I knew her mind was elsewhere.

“I’m bringing Oliver to the circus today to introduce them. I can’t hide the fact that we have a son any longer.”

Elaine’s face grew concerned. “Is he ready for that?”