by L.H. Cosway
Somehow though, we’d managed to discuss everything other than the father of my child, and it was oddly relaxing. Sometimes it was a relief to just talk about random crap, like monkey hijinks. Matilda had a dress in front of her as she hand-stitched a detail into the neckline. Jack and Jay had been around, but mostly they were in the tent, rehearsing. I was interested by the dynamic between the two couples, and truthfully, dying to know how they’d all met. So, like the Nosy Noreen that I was, I asked.
An hour or so later, the bottle of wine had long since been emptied, and I’d lived through the stories of two pretty spectacular romances. It made me feel relieved to know I wasn’t the only one whose heart had been twisted around, chewed up, and spat back out again. I thought that maybe the best loves had to suffer the greatest hardships. You had me and King, Jay and Matilda, Jack and Lille. Hell, there was even Karla and her husband, but that was a story for another day.
Matilda had just gone to use the bathroom when Lille bent forward and placed her hand over mine. At thirty-three, I was almost eleven years older than her, and yet, there was something about Lille that felt wise beyond her years. Her touch comforted me, and when she spoke, my heart felt too full.
“I’m so glad we found you, Alexis. Seeing King get better has been truly amazing to watch, and it’s all down to you.”
I stared at her for a long moment, then wrapped my fingers around hers to squeeze her hand. “I’m so glad you looked.”
It was late evening when I finally said my goodbyes. I’d only had two glasses of wine, and that was hours ago, so I knew I’d be okay to drive home. When I got there, I found Elaine curled up on armchair in the living room, asleep and a blanket draped over her. King sat on the couch with Oliver, and a kid’s movie played on the TV. Oliver was sitting comfortably in his lap as King absently stroked at his hair. If I wasn’t so taken by the sight of them, I might have pulled out my phone to take a picture. It was just too bloody charming.
“Having fun?” I asked softly, careful not to wake Elaine.
King looked up at me, and I was struck by the calmness in his features, the sense of peace about him. He didn’t answer, just shot me a lazy smile and nodded for me to come sit. I dropped my bag on the floor and shrugged out of my jacket before taking the place beside him. After a second of hesitation, I rested my head on his shoulder. He exhaled heavily, turning his face so he could nuzzle his nose into my temple.
“Did you and Elaine get enough time to talk?” I whispered.
“Yes,” King whispered back and I could feel him smiling into my skin. “Thank you for giving us some time. We needed it.”
“It’s no problem. And Oliver wasn’t too much trouble?” I asked, our son too engrossed in the film to hear his name.
King shook his head, still smiling. “No, love, he was good as gold.”
Only a minute or two passed before Oliver bolted upright and announced, “I have to pee.” He was up and out the door a second later, climbing the stairs to the bathroom. I let out a quiet laugh and glanced up to find King looking down at me warmly. Elaine stirred in her seat, Oliver’s announcement having woken her.
“What time is it?” she asked, voice sleepy.
“Just after eight,” I answered. She took in the sight of me and King sitting together, and smiled fondly.
“Well, I’d better be going,” she said, running her hands down her dress and standing. King stood, too.
“Shall I walk you?”
She seemed taken aback by his offer, shy even. “Well, I’m just down the street, but I wouldn’t mind some company.”
King held his arm out to her, and she slid hers through it before he led her from the room.
“I’ll be back in a couple of minutes,” he called over his shoulder just as the front door opened and shut. I took the opportunity to go upstairs and get Oliver ready for bed. On a normal day he would have been asleep already, but this wasn’t a normal day. Catching him just as he left the bathroom, I lifted him into my arms.
“All right, mister, bedtime.”
“But I was watching a film,” he complained.
“And you can finish watching it tomorrow,” I said firmly as I carried him into his room. I needed to stop lifting him, because Jesus, he was getting heavy these days. I was going to end up doing my back in.
“Where’s Oliver 2?” he asked as I went to get his pyjamas from the drawer.
I let out a breath and answered, “He’s just walking Granny Elaine home. He’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“I like him.”
His statement made me smile. “You do?”
He nodded and leaned forward, whispering, “If I ask him to be my best friend, do you think he’d say yes?”
I swear, I didn’t know where he got his guilelessness from, because it certainly wasn’t from me. I’d been a little terror at his age. There was something about the moment that made me feel like testing the waters.
“Baby, you know how Granny Elaine is Oliver 2’s mummy?” He stared at me, nodding, and I continued, “And Granny Elaine is your grandmummy? Well, that means that Oliver 2 is your daddy.”
He looked at me for a long time, his expression concentrated like he was trying to figure out the logic. “You said my daddy was far away.”
“He was. That’s why Granny Elaine hadn’t seen him in a very long time, but now he’s back.”
Oliver was frowning then and I wasn’t sure why, but his lips went all full, like he was going to cry. “Is he going to go away again?”
I pulled him into a hug. “No, honey, he’s not going to go away again. I promise.”
And just like that, the possible crying jag had vanished as he bounced in my arms. “He’s my daddy. I can’t wait to tell Timothy that I have a daddy now.” Timothy was his friend from Montessori. And seriously, he needed to stop saying things that made me emotional. Trust my son to accept King was his father without a single hesitation. There was a knock on the door, and I went down to let him in.
“Hey,” I said as I held it open and he stepped inside. “So, you and Elaine really had a good talk, then?” I’m not sure why I felt the need to reaffirm that everything was all right between them. I guess I just wanted to make sure he was okay and didn’t feel like things were moving too fast, especially since I now had a another bomb to drop. Perhaps it could wait until morning.
He nodded and answered, “Yes Alexis, we’re good. Stop worrying.”
I told him I was just putting Oliver to bed, so he followed me up. The very second we entered the room, Oliver shouted out, “Hi, Daddy!”
Well, waiting until morning was out of the question then.
King stopped, frowned, looked to me, looked to Oliver, then looked back to me again. He wore an expression of disbelief, like maybe he’d been hearing things. I was sure I was wearing a terribly guilty expression.
Looking at the floor, I said, “Sorry, uh, I might have told him that you’re his dad.”
He let out a nervous laugh. “Okay. All right. Eh, that’s…that’s….”
“It had to happen sooner or later. Might as well bite the bullet.”
“I’m not annoyed with you, Alexis.”
“Oh, no, I didn’t think you were. I just, maybe I should have talked with you first.”
He stepped forward, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Relax.”
His words worked to calm me. “Do you want to read to him again?”
“Sure.”
I left them to it and went into my room, taking deep breaths. For a second there I was certain I’d fucked up. I lay down on the bed and tried to focus on reading the paperback I was currently working my way through. After about twenty minutes, I looked up to find King standing in my doorway. We locked gazes, and a pregnant silence fell between us.
“I should go,” he said at the same time I blurted, “Stay the night.”
Ugh, why was I being so awkward? King shot me a cocky grin, so I threw a pillow at him. “Do
n’t give me that face.”
He moved farther into the room and asked coyly, “What face?”
“That one.” I pointed. “The face that says you think you’re the shit. I hate that face.”
He was at the foot of the bed when he countered, “You love this face.”
“Okay, I’ll adjust my statement. I love your face. I hate your expression.”
He shook his head. “Nah, I’m pretty sure you love my expression, too.”
He was leaning over me now, climbing onto the mattress and levelling his hands on either side of my head. I was about to say something clever, but it immediately fled my mind when he kissed me. His tongue swept into my mouth, and all I could do was moan.
“Thank you for telling him,” he breathed as he broke away to kiss along my jaw, moving down to my neck. I strained beneath him, hands going to his shoulders. Everywhere his lips travelled, they left tingles in their wake.
“I thought you might be angry with me for a second.”
“I wasn’t angry. I was just taken aback. He called me Dad.”
“Well, you are his dad.”
He was lower now, his face levelled with my boobs as he nuzzled into my cleavage. “Yes, I am.”
I closed my eyes, trying to concentrate on the trajectory of our conversation rather than the fact that his nose was brushing against my ever hardening nipple.
“I’m not gonna lie,” I said breathily. “He got a little upset when I told him. Not because you’re his dad, but because he thought you might go away again.”
King paused to look at me, his face serious. “And what did you tell him?”
A beat of silence elapsed as I swallowed. “I – I told him you were here to stay.”
His eyes held mine for a long moment before he nodded, “Good, because I am.” And then he licked his way across the top of my breast, and my brain turned to mush.
***
The following morning, I woke up to my alarm clock bleeping loudly at six-thirty a.m. King was spooning me just like he had been the day before. His body was hard and warm, and I really didn’t want to leave. Duty called, unfortunately, and I sat up in bed, which solicited a groan from him.
“Where are you going?” he asked groggily.
“I have work. Go back to sleep.”
Despite my order, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. The sheet fell to his waist, revealing his bare torso, and I had to use a good lot of willpower to look away. We’d made love well into the early hours of the morning, and I could still smell him on my skin. God, how I wanted to crawl back into bed and spend the entire day there, just the two of us.
“Could you drop me off at my apartment?” King asked, surprising me.
“Uh, sure.” I didn’t ask why he wanted to go there, but I took it as a good sign. I gathered my things for the shower and made my way into bathroom. I’d just turned it on and stepped under the spray when a large, warm body joined me.
Best. Shower. Ever.
Elaine arrived to take care of Oliver, and I drove us into the city, dropping King off at his old place first and then heading out to the office. It was a busy day, and though one half of me really wanted to go straight home and put my feet up, the other half wanted to go get King. I liked having him in my bed, in my home. In fact, if I had my way, he’d be moving in with me and spending every single night there. I knew not to push him, though, knew I had to take things one step at a time.
It was just after six when I parked outside his building and went in. He buzzed me up, and I took the lift to his place to find him sitting by his piano, sheet music everywhere and an electric sort of aura about him. The very sight caused an exhilarating tremor to go skittering down my spine. I took a peek at the pages, noticing a lot of them contained his own handwriting, musical notes scribbled down in pencil. Was he composing something?
He started to play a gorgeous melody, and I went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea.
“Do you mind?” I called.
“No,” said King absently. “Go ahead.”
I found a small box of peppermint that Elaine must have left there and turned on the kettle. When I returned to the living room, King was still sitting by the piano, practicing.
“So, you’re playing again?” I asked tentatively as I lifted the cup to my mouth and took a sip.
King’s eyes were alight when he turned his attention to me. I swear they almost glittered, and I could tell his mind was racing. The creative muse was upon him.
“Yes, the music, it’s, well, it’s pouring out. The focus is liberating. I’ve barely stopped all day.”
What he said concerned me. “Have you eaten?”
He furrowed his brow as if trying to remember. “I think I ate some toast at lunchtime.” Well, that was a lie if ever I heard one. Pulling my phone from my bag, I quickly dialled my favourite Chinese takeaway and put in an order. With that done, I stood in front of the piano and levelled him with a reprimanding look.
“You have to eat, King.”
He reached forward to cup my cheek. “I will. Don’t worry, darling. It’s just that I get so absorbed when I play that I forget everything around me, and it feels like there’s never enough hours. What Rachmaninoff once said was true: Music is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is not enough for music.”
“Yeah, well, what Selina Kyle once said is also true: A girl’s gotta eat. I think that goes for boys, too,” I told him with a wink.
He grinned. “I don’t think Catwoman can trump Rachmaninoff, darling.”
Oh, I could have smacked him right then for his superior little tone on “darling.” Somehow though, it made me grin. Any signs of his old self always made me grin. They mixed in with his new self to create something I loved so much better. Anyway, I didn’t bother to retort, because I was far too curious about the sheet music. “Have you been composing?”
His expression turned guarded, but he answered me anyway. “Yes.”
“Will you play some of it for me?”
When his body stilled, I knew I’d made him uncomfortable. “I’m wary,” he said and then paused, his eyes meeting mine. “Don’t get me wrong — you’re the one who inspires me, but I just don’t want to fall into the trap of playing for praise. That’s what I used to do before. I worked so hard so that people would respect and look up to me, praise me for a job well done and tell me how bloody fantastic I was. Then when I lost it all, I felt like I had nothing left to live for. I want this music to be something I do because I love it, not for the sole purpose of being the best.”
“That’s understandable,” I said, coming and taking a seat next to him. “I want you to do what makes you happy. And if you never play for me or for anyone, then that’s fine. So long as it’s what you love.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if I’m acting crazy. Sometimes the way my mind works baffles me.”
I reached out and took his hand, sliding my fingers through his. “Don’t be sorry. I like your mind. It suits my mind.”
The smile he gave me lit up his entire face, and my heart beat faster at the sight of it.
I squeezed his hand as I continued meaningfully, “But just remember, your music doesn’t have to mean praise for you. It can be the gift you give to other people.”
He stared at me, thoughtful, before his attention wandered to the piano keys. I could tell he was thinking about what I’d said. A few moments passed as we sat there in silence, the weight of the years surrounding us and the love we held for one another making all the heartache worth it. I swallowed the last of my tea and bent to place my cup on the floor. My top rode up at the back, exposing skin, and I felt King’s palm press down on the base of my spine. I went utterly still as he leaned down to murmur seductively in my ear.
“I think I remember telling you once that I was going to fuck you on this piano until you forgot your own name.” He paused and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Shall we try that?”
I didn’t need to speak, because
my body had already told him the answer.
Yes, Oliver, let’s try that.
Twenty-Four
Two months later.
King had a secret.
Well, I wasn’t exactly sure if it was a secret, but he was definitely up to something. Every couple of nights he’d go missing, not telling anyone where he was going. If I wasn’t such a good judge of character, I’d think maybe he was drinking again, or worse, having an affair. But no, he definitely wasn’t drinking, nor was he having an affair. His love and desire for me was something that felt impenetrable. Solid. Constant.
In fact, he kept asking me to marry him, and it was becoming a bit of a bother. The first time he asked, he’d arranged for a romantic candlelit dinner in his penthouse. He was keeping it as a place to store his piano mostly (I know, weird.) But other than that, he’d basically moved in with me and Oliver. I loved having him here, loved his smell on my sheets and his voice in the mornings as he spoke to our son.
This was why I surprised even myself when he popped the question and I told him no, I wouldn’t marry him.
At first he’d been upset, but when I explained to him that the answer was no for now, but yes for the future, he’d gotten a gleam in his eye, determined to wear me down. I just didn’t want to rush into marriage. It felt superfluous to me. We loved each other. Neither one of us was going anywhere. A wedding was a pointless expense. Not to mention I wanted to be a bride about as much as I wanted to stick pins in my eyes.
No, if we were ever going to get married, it would have to be a small affair. Quick and painless. It also wasn’t going to be something I dived right into. Unfortunately, King was a singularly focused individual, which meant I was proposed to at least once a day. Sometimes two or three times. I’d find Post-It notes inside the tea caddy. Voice messages on my phone. Texts with picture attachments of “Marry Me?” written in sand or on foggy car windows. He’d even sent one of him topless, with the words scrawled in marker pen across his chest.