King of Hearts
Page 69
“So, is there going to be a show tonight?” I asked, forcing a casual tone. “I’m sorry, I haven’t even asked what you all do here yet.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Lille, her voice gentle. “You’ve had so much else to think about.” I caught her grimace slightly after she said it, like she thought she might have been a little clumsy with her words. I didn’t mind. Not at all. I much preferred clumsy words to silence.
“Well,” Jay began explaining, “Jack and I are both performers. I do illusions, and Jack’s a fire-breather.” He waggled his brows and flashed me a grin. “Real dangerous, like.” Jack rolled his eyes at his brother and took a bite of his chicken. “Lille paints faces for the kiddos, and Matilda here designs the show costumes.” He slung an arm around his wife’s shoulder.
“Well, I’m only really starting out,” Matilda added shyly. “I’ve designed stuff for Jay for a while, so some of the acts are letting me try my hand at creating some designs for them, too.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I work in the industry myself. Well, not in design, but I run a small modelling agency.”
Matilda’s eyes lit up with interest. “Yes, that’s right. Lille told me.”
We chatted for a while about fashion, but the whole time I never really felt at ease. I could sense King watching me intently. I didn’t have the courage to look at him. His fingers were clasped tight around his beer bottle, and I wondered if he felt weird about me being there, trying to fit in with all these strangers who seemed to know him so much better than I did. Well, they knew the man he was now better than I did anyway.
My participation in the conversation died away as I became more and more aware of his attention and presence.
“Hey, Watson, did you get around to mending that shirt for tonight? I need it for the second part of my act,” Jay asked his wife.
“Yep,” Matilda replied. “It’s all done. I left it in the closet for you.”
“Good, I don’t wanna go giving the ladies in the audience another eyeful,” he said, and shot me a playful smile. “Last night I was doing a costume-change skit, and I had a wardrobe malfunction. Cheeky slip of the nip doesn’t even cover it.”
“You definitely gave Janet Jackson a run for her money,” Matilda put in, chuckling.
I laughed and knew Jay had sensed my unease when he sent me a warm expression. That’s why he’d made the joke. I was grateful to him. Lille laughed, too, while Jack smirked and seemed to be supressing another eye roll. I chanced a surreptitious glance at King to find he wasn’t smiling at all. It made my skin prickle. Maybe he didn’t want me there. The thought jolted me, and I suddenly wanted to flee. I picked my bag up off the floor and slung it over my shoulder.
“Well, it’s getting late. I should probably be going. Maybe I could come visit again tomorrow?” The insecurity in my voice was palpable, and I hated how it sounded.
The second I made a move to stand, King’s hand clamped on my wrist. It shocked me, since he’d barely registered my presence, and now he was touching me. The feel of his skin on mine sent a tremor through me, and I looked down at him, seeing a hint of desperation in his eyes. “Don’t go yet,” he said, voice low and pleading.
All of a sudden I realised what had really been going on. He wanted me there; he was just embarrassed and ashamed of how he was, of how I had to leave so quickly earlier so that I wouldn’t witness him throwing up.
I lowered myself back onto the stool, and he let go of my wrist. “Okay, I can stay for another while,” I said quietly.
My eyes remained on King as Lille announced, “We should all start getting ready for tonight’s show. It was great seeing you again, Alexis.”
I nodded to her, smiling, and everybody rose from the table to leave. A few moments later it was just King and me, sitting alone while the circus workers chattered and ate around us. My pores tingled as I felt King’s close attention, his warmth right next to me. All it would take was for me to reach out a few centimetres, and I’d be touching him again. But I didn’t do that because he was still wary, still feral in a way.
“Does my mother know you’ve found me?” he asked, a vulnerability in his voice.
My eyes softened as I whispered, “Not yet,” then spoke a little louder as I cleared my throat. “Do you want me to tell her?”
Some kind of turmoil passed over his features, and he shook his head fervently. “No. I…I don’t want her to see me. Not like this.”
And there it was again, the shame. I hated it so much.
Out of instinct, I reached forward and tried to take his hand in mine, but he flinched away. He’s feral, Alexis, try to remember. I had to keep reminding myself to treat him with care, like he was a wild animal not used to touch. It was hard, because I was so tactile these days, especially at home with Oliver. We were always cuddling or play fighting, or just generally goofing around.
“I have to tell her eventually,” I said gently.
He just stared at me then, and it was too much. I had to look away.
“Am I so awful to you now?” he asked with chagrin.
Immediately, I brought my gaze back his. “Never. You’ve always been beautiful to me.” I let my eyes wander over his features, older, kind of distinguished. His mane of golden hair and his full beard. No, he wasn’t awful at all. In fact, he might have been more beautiful now that he was flawed, more human. He seemed to grimace in something close to discomfort, or maybe it was embarrassment. It was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with people looking at him. It was also clear that it had been a long time since anyone had used the word “beautiful” to describe him.
“Don’t be silly,” said Lille, her voice gentle. “You’ve had so much else to think about.” I caught her grimace slightly after she said it, like she thought she might have been a little clumsy with her words. I didn’t mind. Not at all. I much preferred clumsy words to silence.
“Well,” Jay began explaining, “Jack and I are both performers. I do illusions, and Jack’s a fire-breather.” He waggled his brows and flashed me a grin. “Real dangerous, like.” Jack rolled his eyes at his brother and took a bite of his chicken. “Lille paints faces for the kiddos, and Matilda here designs the show costumes.” He slung an arm around his wife’s shoulder.
“Well, I’m only really starting out,” Matilda added shyly. “I’ve designed stuff for Jay for a while, so some of the acts are letting me try my hand at creating some designs for them, too.”
“Oh, that’s cool. I work in the industry myself. Well, not in design, but I run a small modelling agency.”
Matilda’s eyes lit up with interest. “Yes, that’s right. Lille told me.”
We chatted for a while about fashion, but the whole time I never really felt at ease. I could sense King watching me intently. I didn’t have the courage to look at him. His fingers were clasped tight around his beer bottle, and I wondered if he felt weird about me being there, trying to fit in with all these strangers who seemed to know him so much better than I did. Well, they knew the man he was now better than I did anyway.
My participation in the conversation died away as I became more and more aware of his attention and presence.
“Hey, Watson, did you get around to mending that shirt for tonight? I need it for the second part of my act,” Jay asked his wife.
“Yep,” Matilda replied. “It’s all done. I left it in the closet for you.”
“Good, I don’t wanna go giving the ladies in the audience another eyeful,” he said, and shot me a playful smile. “Last night I was doing a costume-change skit, and I had a wardrobe malfunction. Cheeky slip of the nip doesn’t even cover it.”
“You definitely gave Janet Jackson a run for her money,” Matilda put in, chuckling.
I laughed and knew Jay had sensed my unease when he sent me a warm expression. That’s why he’d made the joke. I was grateful to him. Lille laughed, too, while Jack smirked and seemed to be supressing another eye roll. I chanced a surreptitious glance at King to find he wasn’t smiling at all. It made my skin prickle. Maybe he didn’t want me there. The thought jolted me, and I suddenly wanted to flee. I picked my bag up off the floor and slung it over my shoulder.
“Well, it’s getting late. I should probably be going. Maybe I could come visit again tomorrow?” The insecurity in my voice was palpable, and I hated how it sounded.
The second I made a move to stand, King’s hand clamped on my wrist. It shocked me, since he’d barely registered my presence, and now he was touching me. The feel of his skin on mine sent a tremor through me, and I looked down at him, seeing a hint of desperation in his eyes. “Don’t go yet,” he said, voice low and pleading.
All of a sudden I realised what had really been going on. He wanted me there; he was just embarrassed and ashamed of how he was, of how I had to leave so quickly earlier so that I wouldn’t witness him throwing up.
I lowered myself back onto the stool, and he let go of my wrist. “Okay, I can stay for another while,” I said quietly.
My eyes remained on King as Lille announced, “We should all start getting ready for tonight’s show. It was great seeing you again, Alexis.”
I nodded to her, smiling, and everybody rose from the table to leave. A few moments later it was just King and me, sitting alone while the circus workers chattered and ate around us. My pores tingled as I felt King’s close attention, his warmth right next to me. All it would take was for me to reach out a few centimetres, and I’d be touching him again. But I didn’t do that because he was still wary, still feral in a way.
“Does my mother know you’ve found me?” he asked, a vulnerability in his voice.
My eyes softened as I whispered, “Not yet,” then spoke a little louder as I cleared my throat. “Do you want me to tell her?”
Some kind of turmoil passed over his features, and he shook his head fervently. “No. I…I don’t want her to see me. Not like this.”
And there it was again, the shame. I hated it so much.
Out of instinct, I reached forward and tried to take his hand in mine, but he flinched away. He’s feral, Alexis, try to remember. I had to keep reminding myself to treat him with care, like he was a wild animal not used to touch. It was hard, because I was so tactile these days, especially at home with Oliver. We were always cuddling or play fighting, or just generally goofing around.
“I have to tell her eventually,” I said gently.
He just stared at me then, and it was too much. I had to look away.
“Am I so awful to you now?” he asked with chagrin.
Immediately, I brought my gaze back his. “Never. You’ve always been beautiful to me.” I let my eyes wander over his features, older, kind of distinguished. His mane of golden hair and his full beard. No, he wasn’t awful at all. In fact, he might have been more beautiful now that he was flawed, more human. He seemed to grimace in something close to discomfort, or maybe it was embarrassment. It was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with people looking at him. It was also clear that it had been a long time since anyone had used the word “beautiful” to describe him.
