His build was the same as before, but a little more filled out, less wiry and athletic. Don’t get me wrong, he wasn’t fat, just thicker around the neck and shoulders, as seemed to happen when men neared forty. His face had aged somewhat, but I thought that had more to do with the drinking than the years that had passed.

He must have sensed he had an audience, because he glanced up, and I swear air caught in my lungs the moment his eyes landed on me. He got up abruptly from the table, the deck chair falling to the ground behind him. My skin prickled with awareness when he started to move forward, my heart pounding fast the closer he came. His chest bumped mine softly, his eyes glittering in the sunlight just like they used to. I could hardly breathe as his hands rose to my face. His fingers started at my temples, then began to move slowly down to my cheeks. I swallowed harshly, my chest fluttering with butterflies to have him touching me. His fingers were callused, yet so tender, so gentle. I felt like I was holding still and allowing a wild animal to suss me out, realise I wasn’t a threat.

His fingers came to my jaw, and I remained standing there, as still as a statue, my breathing intensifying the longer his inspection continued. His gaze was intent on me, so intense, and I found it difficult to meet his eyes. Finally, I lifted them and they locked with his. His fingers were at my throat now. It was a vulnerable spot, sensitive. His fingers dug in a little, and air whooshed right out of me. Uncomfortably, I became aware of my arousal. He smelled clean, like soap, and he was the only man I’d ever loved. My body was programmed to respond to his, no matter the circumstance. My nipples hardened, a long untended-to ache lingering between my thighs.

He was still touching me, his fingers exploring the rise and dip of my collarbone. I could feel that his hands were shaking and remembered what Marina had said about the withdrawals. I soaked him in, confused by how he felt so weak and yet so vital at the same time.

I saw his throat move as he swallowed before muttering a timid, “Hello.”

It broke my heart.

“Hi,” I whispered back.

I heard Marina speaking close by, but could hardly concentrate on what she said. “We’ll give you both some privacy. Alexis, if you need anything just call Jay’s phone, okay?”

“Okay,” I replied softly, not taking my eyes off King. They left, and his body leaned closer until I could feel that he was hard inside his pants, just the barest touch against the lower part of my stomach. I must have made some small sound of surprise, because his eyelids began to flutter nervously and he looked away, pulling back. He seemed embarrassed and ashamed.

“I’m sorry, I….”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” he grunted, and turned, stalking back to the deck chair and picking it up off the ground. He sat and grabbed the cup, downing the rest of its contents quickly. Letting my bag fall from my shoulder, I approached the table and took the empty seat. King watched my every move warily as I opened my bag and began to remove the chessboard. I didn’t say anything, because everything seemed to have been going fine until we spoke. Sometimes words just overcomplicated things.

Memories flashed in his eyes when he saw what I had. I saw a kaleidoscope of images too, all of our private little games together. I opened up the board so that it lay flat on the table, then began to pull out the pieces. They were made of solid wood, so they were heavy, but they were quality. I’d bought the set just recently, having planned to start teaching Oliver how to play.

Oliver.

How on earth was I going to tell King he had a son? The prospect sent a sharp pang through my chest. He’d missed out on so much, and he didn’t even know the half of it yet. Slowly, I reminded myself. I needed to take this one step at a time.

King’s eyes didn’t leave me, his gaze focused on my hands as I set up the game. Picking up a pawn, I opened the play. He watched me, and a silence followed. It seemed to go on forever, and I wasn’t sure if he was going to join me. Then, almost shyly, he leaned forward and made a move of his own. My heart leapt. It was such a tiny thing, and yet the fact that he was playing meant the world to me.

We sat in quiet for a long while. I kept taking surreptitious glances at him to make sure he was still engaged. Concentrating on the game seemed to be doing him good. His hands were still shaky, of course, but that couldn’t be helped. I hated that he was in pain and there was nothing I could do to ease it. We were silent for so long that I startled when he spoke, staring at the board as though calculating his next move.

“How did you find me?” he asked, voice low.

“Lille,” I answered simply, and his jaw seemed to tighten.

“That girl never stops. Bloody do-gooder.”

“I’m glad of it. I searched for you for years.”

He scratched at his beard and frowned, still not looking at me. “Why would you do that?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.

“Because I….” My words fell off, my throat clogging with emotion. I wanted to say it was because I loved him, but even when we were together, we’d never really told one another properly. We both knew; we just never said it. For some reason, I couldn’t say it now, either. I felt like it might scare him off. “Because I care a great deal for you, Oliver.”

He let out a long, pained breath. “You saw what I did.”

I didn’t speak, just waited.

“You saw what I did, and you still care for me. How is that possible?”