But it was.
The room was dark, but Kingsley could see who played his grand piano. And even if he couldn’t see, he would still know it was him. Only one man he’d ever known could play so skillfully without sheet music, without even seeing the keys. A sliver of streetlight penetrated the room and cast a circle of light around the pianist’s hair.
His blond hair.
S?ren.
Frozen in place, Kingsley could do nothing but stand and listen and watch and wait and wonder. Why? How?
The music—Beethoven, Kingsley believed it was—set the room afire, and the sound moved like smoke over the f loor, up the walls and across the ceiling. Kingsley breathed it in like incense.
The piece ended. The final note rose like a burning ember before falling to the f loor and fading into ash.
Shock had stolen Kingsley’s courage, but now it returned to him. He couldn’t get to the man fast enough. He rushed forward as the pianist closed the fallboard and stood. Over ten years had passed since Kingsley had seen him, had looked on him with his own eyes. Kingsley had almost given up hope he would ever see him again. They’d caused each other too much pain, and someone had paid the highest price for their secrets. But that was all in the past. It would be better now between them. No hiding. No lies. Kingsley would give him his heart and his body and his soul, and this time he’d ask for nothing in return.
But as the pianist rose, Kingsley noticed something different about him. He looked the same, only older now. How long since they’d last stood face-to-face, eye-to-eye? He would be twenty-nine years old, wouldn’t he? God, they were grown men now. When had that happened? If it was possible, he was even more handsome than Kingsley remembered, and taller, too. How was it possible he was taller? His clothes, however, were far more severe. He wore all black.
All black but for one spot of white.
A square of white.
A square of white at his throat.
The pianist smiled at him, a smile of amusement with only the barest hint of apology. And not the least bit of shame.
Fuck.
Kingsley stared, incredulous. He took a small step back.
No…not that. Anything but that. Whatever hope had been in Kingsley’s heart a second earlier shattered and died like the last stray note of a symphony.
The old love, the old desire coursed through his veins and into his heart, and there was no stopping it.
He met the blond pianist’s eyes—the priest’s eyes—and released the breath he’d forgotten he’d been holding.
“Mon Dieu…”
My God.
4
FOR A SILENT ETERNITY THEY ONLY LOOKED AT EACH other.
Finally Kingsley raised his hand.
“Wait here,” he said and turned around. He turned back around again. “S’il vous plait.”
S?ren said nothing. Even if S?ren wanted to speak, Kingsley left before he could say a word.
Kingsley strode from the music room and shut the door behind him.