“No, Oliver, that’s not how it works.”

He frowned, confused that his logic wasn’t making sense, so I tried to explain it to him. “It doesn’t matter what colour our eyes are — it’s our brains that tell our eyes what colour we’re looking at. So our eyes have three message receivers in them. One for red light, one for blue light, and one for green light. We see colour through the light. These receivers see the light and send a message to our brains, and then our brains interpret the message to tell us what colour it is.” I tried to explain it to him simply, insofar as I could. “However, some people have a defect in one of their message receivers, which means they see the light wrong and send the wrong message to the brain. That makes them colour blind.”

Oliver seemed worried now. “I don’t want to have a defect in my receiver.”

His statement caused me to let out a soft laugh. “You don’t have a defect.”

He rose up by levelling his hands on the table, totally distressed. “But how do you know?!”

Oh, my God, I honestly couldn’t take how cute it was when he got stressed out about stuff, like it was a matter of life and death. “Well, actually, I don’t. We’d have to test you.”

I twisted some spaghetti around my fork, concentrating on my food again.

“What are you waiting for? I want you to test me now, Mummy.”

I gave him my stern look. “I will, but first you have to finish eating your dinner.” He wasn’t happy with my answer, but he settled back in his seat nonetheless and finished his food. I had to go look up a colour blindness test online and do it with him afterwards. When he got the result that he wasn’t colour blind, he literally jumped for joy, throwing his small arms around my neck and squeezing.

“Oh, Mummy, I’m so glad I’m not colour blind. I don’t want a dog.”

I laughed harder this time, realising what had caused him so much distress. He thought he’d have to get a Seeing Eye dog if he was colour blind. Seriously, sometimes he was too cute to handle.

“All those poor blind people. Not getting to see the colours,” he went on, his words striking a chord in me. King used to see the colours, but he didn’t anymore. The world was all in grey. I needed to teach him how to see them again.

“Yeah, baby,” I whispered. “All those poor people.”

***

The next day after I closed up the office, I drove straight to the circus. I lied and told Elaine I’d be home late because I had a business dinner. She accepted my explanation without question, which made me feel even worse for lying. It was a necessary evil, though. For now.

The same as the first night, I couldn’t find a decent parking space because lots of people were arriving for the show. I spotted Lille out front, a queue of kids lined up at her booth, waiting to have their faces painted. I was just about to go over and say hello when I saw King. He was over by the entrance, pacing frantically, his eyes searching the faces of those who passed him by. The second he spotted me, he was on the move, determinedly threading his way through the crowds.

“Hi,” I said awkwardly when he stopped a few feet away.

He ran a hand through his long hair. “You didn’t come yesterday,” he stated gruffly.

He sounded annoyed, and I don’t know, there was something about it that satisfied me. I liked that he’d noticed my absence. Maybe it would help him realise he still wanted things, and that there was stuff worth getting better for. Or, more to the point, that there were people worth getting better for.

“I had to work,” I answered.

He frowned hard. “Do you work all through the night?”

“No.”

“Well, then, why didn’t you come?”

I arched my eyebrow and restrained a laugh. Seriously, his entitled tone reminded me so much of our son right then it was too funny. I made sure to keep my expression neutral, though, not wanting to distress him further.

“Because I was exhausted, and I’m not sure about you, but some of us use the nighttime for a little thing called sleep.” Being sassy with him was a risk, because it could have sent him off the deep end. It was a relief when it didn’t, as he continued fingering his long hair and apologised.

“I’m sorry. I’m ten hours sober. It’s making me tetchy. And I thought you might have stayed away because of how I spoke to you the other night.”

I eyed him meaningfully. “We had a little fight, King. It was nothing, and certainly not enough to make me give up on you. But anyhow, I thought you weren’t supposed to be going cold turkey?”

He let out a gruff breath. “I’m testing the waters, seeing how long I can go. I feel like shit, but I can handle it.” His eyes came to rest on me, and their intensity made me a little breathless. “I’m glad you came. I need a distraction. And I’ve missed you.”

I inhaled sharply at the stark honesty of his statement, and felt my heart give a hard pang of yearning. He was tugging at his hair now, but I wasn’t sure he realised he was doing it. Stepping closer, I tentatively reached up and untangled his fingers from the long strands. It was a little dirty, and I wondered if he’d washed it since two nights ago when Jack helped him.

“You’re going to end up pulling it out from the root,” I said softly, and he let me lower his hand, watching me closely all the while. Feeling a strange need, I sank my hands into his hair and ran them right down to the ends. King didn’t stop me from doing it, only continued stoically watching, and it gave me courage.