Текст книги "King of Hearts"

Автор книги: L. H. Cosway

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Twelve

I woke to a warm mouth on my thigh.

Oliver King’s head was between my legs as he kissed and licked. I stared down at him, and he gave me the most handsome of smiles.

“Morning, love,” he said, voice scratchy from sleep.

“Morning,” I murmured. “What ya doin’ down there?”

He let out a low groan. “Teasing you, I’m afraid. I wish I could stay here all day, but unfortunately I have a breakfast meeting with Hirota in forty minutes. I need to shower.”

“We could share one,” I suggested, and he groaned again.

“Sharing one will last a whole lot longer than I have time to spare. I may lure you into taking a bath with me later, though.”

“In that case, I looked forward to being lured,” I replied, and King pressed one final kiss to my thigh before leaning up on his hands and bringing his mouth to mine. Our kiss grew hungrier than expected until we broke apart, breathless. King hummed and rubbed his thumb over my lower lip, eyes fixed on my mouth as he spoke.

“I’ll need you later, but take the morning. There’s a beach just a short walk from here,” he suggested as he rose from the bed and began picking up his discarded clothes from last night.

My interest piqued. “There is? I haven’t been to the beach in years.”

King walked back and placed a final kiss to my temple. “Then go. Enjoy yourself. I’ll see you later.”

He disappeared through the adjoining doorway to his room, leaving me slightly flabbergasted. I’d half expected him to be distant this morning, withdrawn after he’d finally gotten what he wanted. Put it down to my experience with a whole bunch of real charmers in the past. But no, King had been warm and affectionate with me; it was almost like he’d completely forgotten the whole one-time agreement we’d made.

I glanced out the window to find it was an unseasonably sunny day, perfect for a trip to the beach. Hopping up from the bed, I went and took a quick shower, then packed my bag. I put my swimsuit on, red with a ’50s vintage cut, and wore a light flower-print dress over the top with some sandals.

I definitely caught a few odd looks from the locals as I made the quick walk from the hotel to the coast, as they clearly didn’t consider it beach weather. Having lived my entire life in cold, rainy London, though, it was positively tropical to me. As expected, there weren’t many people around. I spread a towel out on the sand, slipped on my sunglasses, pulled my dress off over my head, and lay back to soak in the rays.

An hour or two passed in blissful peace as I listened to the waves crash against the shore. I never got to hear these sorts of sounds back home, only traffic and honking horns.

Sensing a presence, I opened my eyes and slid my sunglasses down my nose. King sat next to me on the sand, his chin resting in his palm and a thoughtful expression on his face as he stared out at the water. He looked a million miles away, and the fact was confirmed when I said his name but got no answer.

“Oliver,” I repeated, and saw him blink.

He turned his head. “I thought you might be sleeping, didn’t want to wake you.”

“Wouldn’t it be kind of dangerous to fall asleep on a public beach?” I asked, but he only shrugged and turned his attention back to the sea. I sat up, reached forward, and placed a hand softly on his arm.

“Hey, are you all right?”

Either he didn’t hear my question, or he chose to ignore it. “I envy those with clear consciences,” he murmured, as if to himself.

What he said made me frown. “Why wouldn’t your conscience be clear?”

His eyes flicked to the side as he realised he’d voiced his sentiments out loud. A long breath escaped him. “Bad luck and circumstance.”

“You’re one of the luckiest people I know,” I whispered. Yes, his mother was unwell, but aside from that he had a pretty spectacular life.

Turning, he levelled his eyes on me, and they seemed so much more beautiful with the sun glittering through them. “My luck is only on one side of the mirror,” he murmured, and reached out to caress my cheek. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all morning.” His words and his touch made me shiver.

“I’ve been thinking about you, too.” What I said made him smile, but there was a sadness behind it. I wanted to find its source, snuff it out. He was having these episodes more and more lately, melancholy mixed with random philosophising.

“Mr Hirota is going to sign the contracts tonight. He’s invited us to his villa for dinner. Did you bring a dress?”

“Of course. I always come prepared.” I smiled and crawled over to kneel in front of him, placing my hands on each of his shoulders. Staring at him head on, I said, “A problem shared is a problem halved. Whatever’s been troubling you, you can tell me about it. No judgement.”

The moment dragged on forever as he breathed in and then out. I don’t think I’d ever experienced such a long and meaningful stretch of eye contact with another human being before. Voices sounded from nearby, a family taking pictures. King’s eyes went to them and then back to me.

“Stay here,” he said, and stood up. I watched as he walked to the family and began speaking to the father, who had one of those vintage Polaroid cameras. Words were exchanged, and then the father handed the camera over to King. He walked back to me, and as I sat there on my towel, he lifted the camera to his face.

“Smile, Alexis,” he said, and I had just enough time to plaster a grin on my face before he snapped the shot. The photo emerged from the front of the camera and King caught it, shaking it out.

“Hey, a little warning next time!”

“Come here,” he said, voice low.

I went to him. He threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close, holding the camera up in front of us and taking another pic. This time I was the one to grab it from the slot. It had managed to capture us up close. I was staring into the lens, smiling, and King was in profile, staring back at me, a look of such affection in his gaze that it almost took my breath away.

“I’m keeping this one,” I practically whispered as King watched me.

“Only if I can keep this one.”

I shrugged, trying not to sound emotional. “Sure.”

He went and returned the camera to its owner, and an odd atmosphere fell between us. I packed up my things, and we made the short walk back to the hotel. I knew exactly what accounted for the tension but was too afraid to voice how I felt.

I was falling in love with him, and if the way he looked at me in the picture was anything to go by, he was falling in love with me, too.

***

Since King had a bigger room, we went there to work for the rest of the day. I sat on his bed, my computer on my lap, while he sat at the desk. There were lots of small details to tie up before Hirota signed the contracts that evening, so both of us were buried in work for a couple of hours. I Skyped with Gillian so she could take care of everything that needed doing back at the London office. I’d just finished my call with her when King’s phone began to ring. I saw him glance at the screen, and I swear his face instantly transformed. He was no longer relaxed and concentrated. He now seemed irritable and stressed.

Standing, he didn’t glance at me once as he walked from the room and stepped out into the hallway. He only closed the door over halfway, so I could still eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Yes?” he answered, voice flat.

A pause.

“Of course. It’s all moving forward as planned. The contracts will be signed tonight.”

Another pause.

“Very well. Just remember our agreement. This is the last time.”

I heard him let out a long, frustrated breath, and I could just imagine his jaw clenching. He didn’t sound happy at all.

“Bruce, I mean it. This is the last time. You’ll have your paperwork by the morning. Goodbye.” A second later he stormed back into the room, and I practically yelped in surprise when he came right at me. He shoved my laptop away, then began undoing the buttons on my dress, revealing my bra underneath.

“All afternoon I’ve had to watch you sitting here, torturing me in this little dress cupping your perfect fucking tits,” he growled, and brought his mouth to my cleavage, dragging his lips over the swells of my breasts. A whimper escaped me as my hands went to his hair. He wasn’t the only one who’d been tortured. Having Oliver King close was always a test to my willpower.

“Oliver,” I breathed as he pushed down the cup of my bra, then took my nipple into his mouth. His tongue circled, and I squirmed beneath him. “Oliver, who’s Bruce?”

His entire form stilled, his mouth leaving me. “You shouldn’t have been listening to that conversation, Alexis.”

“I’m sorry. It’s just that as soon as you got the call, you became really stressed out. It worried me.”

“You don’t need to worry,” he said, and I could feel him withdrawing.

“But I do.”

He was off the bed now, picking up his coat. “I’m going to take a walk. Finish what you’re working on and be ready at seven. Hirota is sending a car for us.”

And with that he was gone. I lay on the bed, equal parts turned on and confused. I didn’t understand why he was being so closed off about this Bruce person. My gut sank, and I quickly fixed my dress back in place. Collecting my things, I returned to my own room, and this time I remembered to lock the adjoining doors.

The dress I wore for dinner was a deep purple colour, lace on top, velvet material on the bottom. My phone pinged with a text just as I was putting the finishing touches to my makeup.

Oliver King: I’m waiting in the lobby.

I tapped out a quick response.

Alexis: Be there in two minutes.

I saw him standing by a tall column when I arrived downstairs. His back was turned to me, and he wore a black suit that made his golden hair stand out. His broad shoulders and confident, masculine posture gave me a fizzy sensation in my tummy, and I immediately wished we weren’t on awkward terms. Why did I have to be so nosy asking about this Bruce person? It wasn’t like I had a right to know.

Anyhow, I’d put two and two together, and decided that Bruce either worked for King’s silent investor or he was the silent investor. I knew that for whatever reason, King wasn’t thrilled to be working on this deal. My guess was that he owed the investor a favour, and this was how he was repaying him.

“Hi,” I said, and he turned at the sound of my voice.

“Alexis,” said King, his eyes skimming my form before his hand went to my lower back to lead me from the lobby. He didn’t say a word about my appearance, didn’t give me any heated compliments, and my gut sank. We entered a sleek black limousine, where King immediately slid across the seat and went to open the mini bar. I sat and fiddled with my phone, while at the same time taking surreptitious glances at my boss. You could have cut the tension between us with a knife, and for once it wasn’t sexual. Well, okay, it was sexual. It always was with us, but on this occasion the tension tension outweighed the sexual tension.

King studied the bottles, deciding on which drink he was going to have. His eyes flicked to mine as he held up a bottle of Scotch.

“Would you like a glass?”

I shook my head.

Something else I was starting to notice about him was that he was very specific in the way he made his drinks. He did it lovingly and with a certain finesse. I knew there were only three reasons why a person was that particular about their drinks preparation. One: They’d worked in a bar, and it was grilled into them for life. Two: They were collectors/hobbyists who collected vintage and expensive liquors. Three: They were alcoholics.

I hated to be so callous in my labelling, but it was true. I just hoped King fell into group number two, because I knew he didn’t belong to group number one, and group number three was too painful to contemplate. I remembered our conversation about Bernie Black, the dealer who supplied drugs to those working high-powered jobs in the The City. I was reminded of what King had said, and not for the first time.

When I’m stressed out, a nice glass of top-shelf whiskey usually does the trick.

It took us just over thirty minutes to reach Hirota’s place, which was a quintessentially Roman villa surrounded by acres of lush land and gardens. It was dark; however, the place was illuminated by lights placed all around the entrance and lawn. I noticed some horse stables off to the side, and there were a couple of fancy cars parked out front.

I’d been counting King’s drinks on the drive, and he’d had no less than four large glasses of Scotch. The fact that he wasn’t even acting tipsy indicated a high tolerance, which was also a worrying sign. It felt like the more time I spent around this man, the more clearly I was beginning to see him. The more I got the sense he had secrets he tried his best to keep hidden.

He slid across the seat until his thigh met mine, and I felt him lean down to smell my hair. His closeness caused me to tremble, and I knew he saw it.

“I’m sorry, Alexis,” was all he said before the driver came around and opened the door for us. We both stepped out, and I saw King’s eyes go to my hand a few times, as though he wanted to hold it. And I got the sense he wanted to do it for comfort rather than as a social show. The thought made my heart ache, because I always wanted to be able to comfort him if he needed it. In the end, he never touched me, and one of Hirota’s household staff let us inside before leading us to a spacious dining room.

“Oliver, Alexis,” said Hirota, standing. “So glad you both made it.”

This time the businessman wore an even stranger outfit than before; he was decked out in British countryside chic. Something posh folks back home might wear to go on a hunt or clay pigeon shooting. We were introduced to his wife, a slim blonde who had the desperate look of a woman who took prescription meds just to get through the day. I felt bad thinking it, but it was the truth. He also had twin sons. Both were in the awkward chubby phase of puberty, and looked to be about fourteen or fifteen. The remaining parties at the table were the same men who’d been at the strip club the previous night. All employees of Hirota.

I sat next to King as the meal was served, our arms brushing every so often. King was left-handed, I was right-handed, which meant there was an awful lot of elbow knocking going on. My heart leapt as we were being served dessert and King’s hand disappeared under the table to rest on my thigh.

His mouth was close to my ear when he said, “Stay with me tonight.”

I wanted to say yes, but he had continued his drinking all through dinner, and my concern was outweighing my lust right then. So, even though his touch melted my insides, I pushed his hand away and answered, “I don’t think that’s wise.”

I could feel him staring at me as I swallowed, trying to remain stoic when I really wanted to stand up and demand he tell me what was going on. I was so preoccupied that I was hardly able to take three bites of my dessert. Then the staff came and collected my plate before refilling the wine glasses of those still drinking.

“Laura,” said Hirota to his wife. “Be a dear and take Alexis on a tour of the house. Mr King and I just have one or two matters to discuss before I sign the contracts.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. The last thing I wanted right then was one-on-one time with Laura Hirota, but I didn’t have another choice. Their sons had already left to go play video games in the lounge, and seemingly Hirota was a sexist ape who didn’t think women had any place in business dealings.

“Of course,” said Laura, eyes finding mine. “I’ll show you my collection of china.”

Laura’s collection of china was truly riveting. I stood there as she oohed and aahed over the design details and boasted how expensive it all was, wishing I were anywhere else in the world. Oh, did I also mention that she expelled a shitload of venom about her selfish husband and her spoiled children along the way? It was like, oh, yeah, go right ahead and use me as an outlet for all your dissatisfaction. She walked me through the various rooms, and then we did a quick sweep of the garden before returning to the house.

Laura yawned. “I think I’ll go get some sleep now. It was lovely meeting you, Alexis.” She didn’t sound like she thought it was lovely at all; she sounded like it had been a burden. I made my way through a spacious lounge area, trying to find King, when I spotted him sitting in front of a grand piano that I was sure Hirota placed there purely for show.

King stared out the window, a glass of wine in his hand, as I closed the distance between us.

“Well, Laura Hirota hates her life,” I deadpanned, and King shot me an arch look. “The contracts all signed and sealed?” I went on as I came to stand in front of him. He turned his head to face me and nodded.

“Everything’s been finalised.”

A silence elapsed. I leaned a little too hard against the piano, an off-key sound ringing out. I shot King an apologetic look and remembered again how beautifully he played. Our eyes locked for several moments, feelings passing back and forth but no words.

“Play something for me,” I urged him.

His eyes went to the keys before returning to mine. “What would you like to hear?”

“Anything.”

I stood back as he twisted around and ran his fingers across the ivories.

And then, just like that, he began to play.

Thirteen

The tune started out low and soft, but quickly sped up. It became faster, louder, until his fingers were dancing over the keys in a way that knocked the breath from my lungs. I’d expected him to play a little rendition of a modern song, something simple, romantic maybe. But this, this was on another stratosphere, and I knew from his skill that he played it often. Unlike the piano here at Hirota’s, the one King had at his apartment was definitely not for show.

He was playing the exact same piece as he had at his apartment that night. Almost unconsciously, I lowered myself onto the bench beside him, both my eyes and my ears enraptured as he continued the melody. In that moment he was transformed; his entire body was at one with the instrument as he filled the room with perfect, heart-aching, sweet and soulful music.

I fell.

I’d already started falling, but the way he played finished the job. It was so beautiful in its realness that I couldn’t help but be owned by him. Elaine King had obviously passed her talent down to her son, and it was almost a tragedy that this wasn’t what he did all day, every day.

I wasn’t sure how long he had been playing when the piece finally drew to a close. I sat there, staring at the piano in stunned silence, as he turned to face me.

“Why so quiet, darling?” he asked, taking my chin between his fingers.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“So say nothing.” His mouth went to my jaw as he gave me a feather-light kiss.

“What was that song?”

King sat back and cleared his throat. “It’s Rachmaninoff, Piano Concerto No. 2. It’s the last piece my mother ever played to a live audience.”

And just like that, it all made sense. The piece was clearly very special to him.

“I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re wasted as a banker. This is what you should be doing,” I stated outright.

King laughed gently. “I think I told you before that Mum is the star. Pianists are ten a penny in this world, and that’s usually how much they make for a living, too.” His joke fell flat.

“I thought you didn’t care about money.”

“I don’t. I care about prestige, and my mediocre piano skills will never bring me that.”

“Mediocre? Are you serious?”

His low, affectionate laughter did something to the pit of my stomach. Well, it was the laughter combined with the music he’d just played. His fingers were trailing up my thigh, finding the hem of my skirt and dipping beneath when I spoke without thinking.

“Make love to me,” I blurted.

King’s gaze grew heated, and his mouth was at my ear again, whispering a single word, “Love?” The second it left his lips, his finger slid past my underwear and right inside me. My breath came out in a rush.

His voice grew dark. “One day I’m going to spread you out on my piano at home and fuck you until you forget your own name.”

Jesus Christ. “Oliver.”

“You’re so wet.”

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed around the room, and King instantly withdrew, leaving me feeling empty. A member of Hirota’s household staff cleared her throat.

“Mr King, the car is waiting to take you both back to the hotel.”

“Yes, very good. Thank you,” King replied smoothly, and stood. I walked alongside him back to the same limo we’d arrived in. As soon as the door closed, King pressed the button for the privacy screen, and then he was climbing on top of me. He pushed me back so that I lay stretched out on the seat, his hard body over mine as his hand returned to where it had been before we were interrupted. I threw my head back and tried not to make a sound for fear of alerting the driver to what we were doing. King shot me a devilish grin. The bastard. He knew exactly what he was up to.

His fingers slid in and out of me fast, working me up into a heated frenzy. My hands were already fumbling for his pants, desperate to get them off. All day my mind had been fixating on last night, my body wanting more. Within seconds I had him free as I ran my hand down the hot, silky length of him. He felt beautiful, perfect, and right then I wanted all of that perfect beauty deep inside me.

His entire body shuddered as I fisted him, and his face fell to my neck as some realisation lit in his eyes.

“I didn’t bring protection,” he groaned.

Well, shit.

“Oh.”

“The journey back to the hotel won’t take long. We can wait,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced. Our eyes connected, and I knew instantly that we were both thinking the same thing.

Should we risk it?

“I’m on the pill,” I blurted. It was the truth. I’d been taking it for years and hadn’t stopped even after Stu and I broke up.

His gaze held a warning. “Don’t.”

“I trust you.”

He groaned again. “Fucking hell.”

I wriggled beneath him, shoving my knickers aside and carefully guiding his cock closer. His resistance cracked and his hips jutted forward, closing the remaining distance between us as his hard, bare length pushed inside me. I moaned and closed my eyes, the feel of him with nothing between us a little more than I could handle. I was twenty-seven years old and this was the very first time I’d had unprotected sex with another person. I never imagined how amazing it could be, especially when you added my continually growing feelings to the equation.

“Alexis, darling,” he murmured. “You feel…incredible.”

I stroked a hand down his back and gazed up at him.

Barely a few minutes passed, but they felt as though they lasted an eternity. King made love to me slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. This certainly wasn’t what either one of us had intended by having sex in a limo. I certainly hadn’t thought it’d be so…emotional. I wanted to say something, anything, to warn him that I was beginning to grow attached, but I couldn’t find the words. And then he was coming, his mouth capturing mine and his sounds reverberating through me.

And when it was over, we lay there in each other’s arms, a startling awareness filling the small space and so many words being left unsaid.

***

In spite of our hunger for one another, we were exhausted. Arriving back at the hotel, we lay in my bed and just kissed for a while, King making me come with his hand before we both passed out cold.

The following morning we had an early flight back to London. A sense of dread filled my gut as I wondered if things would remain the same when we got home. It was unwarranted, because King was being warm and affectionate with me. He wasn’t giving me any cause for concern, and yet I still felt it. I mean, we could hardly be a couple at work. Even if it wasn’t against the rules, I didn’t want people thinking I was some low-class hussy who slept with her boss.

Even though, let’s face it, that’s what I was, though I refused to accept the low-class bit. Damn me and my dumb blonde hussy of a vagina. She just couldn’t keep her hands to herself.

Everything was a mad rush as we packed our things and made our way to the airport. I barely had a chance to catch my breath until we were seated on the flight. We’d just landed at Heathrow and were making our way to the baggage carousel when King’s phone began ringing. I didn’t pay much attention to the conversation until I heard the concerned tone in his voice.

“Mum? No, no, shit, stay where you are. I’ll be there within the hour.”

I placed a hand on King’s elbow. “Is everything all right?”

He turned to me and looked down, his agitation clear as day. “No,” he answered, almost absently. “No, it isn’t. We have to go.”

I nodded and grabbed our bags as we hurried to catch a taxi. King barely uttered a word, and I was half convinced he’d forgotten I was even there. It sounded like something had happened with his mum again. Perhaps she had to be taken back into the hospital, though I still didn’t know what had happened the last time. King clutched his phone in his hand, his knuckles turning white. I wanted to do something to calm him, but I was at a loss. He was wound so tight I feared he might snap if I tried to touch him right then.

It took us longer than an hour to reach the house (London traffic), and King almost got into a fight with the taxi driver along the way. He was upset and stressed, and I knew his anger was only due to whatever had happened with his mum. I tipped the driver well when we got there, apologising for King’s behaviour as my boss practically leapt from the car and hurried to the front door. He fumbled in his pocket before pulling out a set of keys, and then a second later he’d disappeared inside.

I brought our small suitcases into the entryway as King called out, “Mum, I’m here! Mum!”

“Oliver,” came the sound of a weak, scratchy voice.

I followed King’s calls until I found him in a small library room. His mum sat on the floor, her knees huddled to her chest and tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked like she’d just been through something horribly traumatic and wore only a silk robe, her long hair all tangled. Some of her chest was exposed, but King didn’t even bat an eyelid; he simply pulled the robe tighter to cover her modesty. There was nothing weird or awkward about it. He did it with love and care, and it was in that moment, finally seeing them both together for the first time, that I realised this woman meant the world to him.

I got the feeling King had been caring for his mother for a really long time.

His hands went to her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “What happened?”

“He was here. He got inside. I don’t know how, but he threatened me, Oliver. He said you were messing him around, and he wouldn’t stand for it. He…he hit me.”

King’s entire body went still. “Where?”

Elaine slowly pulled up the sleeve of her robe to reveal an awful welt.

“He’s the fucking devil,” King fumed, and I’d never seen him so angry. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No,” Elaine cried. “That’s what he wants. He wants to make you like him. Don’t ever become like him.”

“Mother, we can’t go on like this. It’s been…Christ, it’s been too many years.”

“Just call him,” Elaine urged King frantically. “Explain everything. I’m sure it’s all just a big misunderstanding.”

King, kneeling in front of his mum, pulled back and slammed his hand down into the floor. “Don’t you see, he’ll never leave us alone. Not until one of us is dead or in prison.”

“Please, Oliver, please, he said one last time, maybe he meant it. Maybe he’ll go away after this.”

King stared at his mother and ran a hand down his face. He looked exhausted, the kind of exhausted that only accumulates from years of worry and lost sleep. My heart was hammering in my chest, and I felt so out of place. I shouldn’t have been listening to the exchange, but I couldn’t take it back now. I’d heard everything, and what I’d heard had frightened me. I felt cold, colder than I’d ever been.

He’ll never leave us alone. Not until one of us is dead or in prison.

A moment passed before King pulled his phone from his pocket and began scrolling through his contacts. Rising to his full height, he turned, and that’s when he saw me. The startled look in his eyes told me he’d completely forgotten I was there. I’d never felt so uncomfortable in my entire life. King’s gaze was hard, and it was only after a long few moments that it began to soften.

“Alexis….”

“I should go.”

“No,” he said quickly. “Don’t go. I have an important phone call to make. Could you take Mum up to her room? It’s on the second floor, the third door on the right. Then come find me and we’ll talk.”

I nodded, and he walked past me, lifting his phone to his ear. Elaine’s reddened eyes found mine, and she seemed ashamed that I was seeing her like this. I hated that she felt that way, because she had absolutely nothing to be ashamed about. Going to her, I gently slid an arm around her waist and helped her up to a standing position. She was weak and I had to take most of her weight, but it was nothing. She was waifish, insubstantial, and it made her seem that much more vulnerable.

She didn’t say anything as I led her to her room, but when I pulled her sheets back and helped her into bed, there was gratefulness in her gaze.

“Talk to him. Make him see sense,” she urged me, and I wasn’t sure what she was asking of me.

I gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before murmuring softly, “Get some sleep, Elaine. Oliver and I will be just downstairs if you need us.”

Leaving her room and going back down, I found King in the library. The drinks cabinet was open, and half a bottle of Southern Comfort sat on the desk. His eyes rose to meet mine.

“Want one?”

Normally I’d decline, but the situation called for a drink, so I nodded and took the seat next to him. He poured, and I watched. Then he handed me the glass, and I knocked it back. The room was quiet for a long few minutes, and I wasn’t sure why, but I felt the urge to hug him, to bridge the monumental gap that seemed to linger between us. I threw my arms around his shoulders, and he stiffened.