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.

Alexis: Be there in 5 mins.

Her response was instant.

Lille: Great. We’re all waiting outside.

My tummy started to roil with nervous tension as we pulled up outside the circus. I spotted Jack, Lille, and King immediately. All of them were dressed nice, but not as fancy as I was. I felt a bit embarrassed that I’d gone all out. Then they climbed into the cab, King sliding into the space next to me. He smelled clean, and his hair hung long over one shoulder. God, he was handsome. I clasped my hands together tightly.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Alexis,” he said, eyes dipping momentarily to my dress then back to my face. “You look beautiful.”

In that moment, all the effort became worth it. The word “beautiful” on Oliver King’s lips when directed at me was always worth it.

“Thanks.”

The taxi started to move. I’d already told the driver our final destination; that way, King wouldn’t know where we were going until we actually got there. He didn’t ask questions, and seemed content to simply sit next to me, our thighs touching, arms brushing whenever the cab went around a corner.

The area outside the Royal Albert Hall was busy, so King didn’t immediately recognise where we were. My heart was beating a mile a minute. And then, almost in slow motion, he glanced up and took in the location. I saw his throat move as he swallowed, and all the noise surrounding us seemed to quiet as I waited for his reaction. Jack and Lille were off to the side, hand in hand. Jack stood tall, watching King almost as closely as I was so that he could dive straight in if things took a turn for the worse.

King’s gaze came to rest on me, his brows drawn together in consternation. “Why are we here?”