The music continued, and before I knew it, the concerto had come to an end. When the audience rose in a standing ovation, King jumped up from his seat, hurriedly making his way out of the hall.

“Where’s he going?” Lille asked, but I could only give her a blank stare. I had no clue, but I knew I needed to follow him. I pushed my way out, spotting him a couple of yards ahead of me. It was hard to keep up with his long strides, especially since I was wearing heels and had considerably shorter legs.

“King,” I called out. “Where are you going?”

I didn’t expect him to answer, but then he responded loudly over his shoulder, “I have to…I have to go somewhere.”

I couldn’t seem to catch up with him, so I pulled out the ballet flats I always kept in my handbag (I was practical like that) and quickly swapped them out with my heels. Finally catching up, I grabbed his elbow.

“King, will you wait a second?”

He didn’t stop. “I just need to walk, okay? You don’t have to come.”

I steeled my resolve. There was no way I was leaving him alone right then. “I’m coming.” Little did I know I’d come to regret that decision when we’d walked for over an hour, and my feet felt like they wanted to crawl away from my body and die. King didn’t seem to be walking in any random direction, though; I sensed he had a destination in mind. It became apparent that was the case when I recognised his old apartment building in the distance.

“Your old place,” I said, winded. Yeah, I definitely needed to work out more and, I don’t know, eat more carrots or something. I was in worse shape than King, who was overcoming an addiction and some serious illnesses to boot. It was kind of ridiculous. Damn you, cake! I inwardly groaned.

We’d just reached the entrance to the lobby when King turned back to me, his eyes fierce as he took me in. “Are you all right?”

I waved away his concern sheepishly as I tried to catch my breath. “Yep, that walk was just a little more, uh, vigorous than I’m used to.”

The fierceness quickly fled his expression as his lips shaped into something akin to amusement. He didn’t comment on it, though, and his expression sobered soon after. He turned back around, walking toward the door and holding it open for me. We stepped inside, and the night doorman pulled out his earphones, eyeing us curiously.

“I’ve lost my keys,” King announced with authority, and the doorman frowned.

“I’m sorry. I don’t recognise you. What number is your apartment?”

“Twenty-two. The top floor. My name is Oliver King.” The way he said it gave me a little shiver of awareness. This was the first time since I’d found him that he’d so confidently stated his name, like he had regained a sense of his identity. It felt monumental, made my heart thump hard.

The doorman’s eyes widened. “Oh, you mean the penthouse? Do you have any identification?”

King’s expression darkened in annoyance, and I suddenly remembered that I had keys. Elaine had asked if I’d drop by and check on things a few weeks ago, and had given me her spare set. I’d completely forgotten to drop by, of course, and the keys were still sitting safely in the inside pocket of my bag. I quickly began to dig for them before pulling them out triumphantly.

“Ah! Crisis averted. I found the keys,” I declared, jingling them in the air. King shot me a perplexed look, and the young doorman appeared relieved to be able to avoid further disturbance. Whatever he’d been listening to on those headphones, he seemed eager to get back to it. I faked a confident tone.

“Come on, honey,” I said, holding my hand out to King. “Let’s get going. I’m exhausted.”

He stepped forward and took my hand as I led him toward the lift. Once we were safely on board, King turned to face me. “Honey?”

I shrugged. “I was aiming for casual.”

His lips twitched in amusement again. “You have the keys for my apartment?”

“Your mum gave them to me. She wanted me to stop by and check on things. Make sure the plants got watered.”

“I never had any plants.”

I made a weird sound in the back of my throat. “Oh, you know what I mean.”

The doors to the lift pinged open, and there was a beat of silence where King just stared at me. I both loved and hated his stares in equal measure. I loved them because they made me want him. And I hated them because they made me want him.

He made his way out of the lift, and I followed. When he reached the door, he stood and waited for me to open it. I did so quietly and he hurried inside, going straight to a drawer and pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil. I found it fascinating that he remembered exactly where he’d left things. Then he went to his piano, which sat by the large panelled window that looked out onto the river. I watched as he sat down and opened the lid, revealing the keys. He ran his fingers over them, feather light, as though saying hello to an old friend.

I watched him with rapt attention. His face rose, and I noticed he was staring at something. Following his gaze, I saw it was fixed on the drinks cabinet on the other side of the room. Elaine hadn’t known about King’s alcohol abuse, so obviously she’d never thought to clear out the cabinet. King was still staring at it when he spoke, his voice strained. “Can you empty all those bottles down the sink, please?”

“Sure,” I said, slightly flustered, and hurried over. As quick as I could, I removed the bottles and carried them to the kitchen, where I promptly poured their contents down the sink. I was a mixture of nervous and triumphant, because the way in which King stared at the bottles was nerve-wracking, but the fact that he’d told me to empty them meant his strength had won out. Once it was all done, I turned back around and gave him a firm nod. King’s body sagged in relief, and he shot me a stoic look in return before his attention was back on the piano.