I love sex. I love women. I love men. I love this city. I love music. I love my house. I love Søren still. Always.

I hate...

What did he hate these days? Oh, he knew.

I hate people like Fuller, which is why I’m taking his church from him.

Very different answers from when he was a teenager. Better answers.

Kingsley would never know for certain what would have happened if they’d stayed together. The past was a corpse. He should stop trying to dig it up and reanimate it. He’d been clinging to it for years now because he had nothing else to hold on to. But now he had a vision, a dream, a hope for the future. And no matter what happened, he would see it come to life. Whatever it took.

Anita finished her work on his scar. He rolled on to his stomach, and she spent the next hour working the soreness out of his neck and shoulders. When she finished, she laid a gentle hand on the crown of his head.

“Kingsley, can you take a deep breath for me?” Anita asked, her words penetrating his thoughts.

He rolled on to his back, arched his shoulders and inhaled.

“Again?”

He breathed in again. His lungs expanded, his chest swelled and he took the deepest breath of his life.

And it didn’t hurt.

“Dieu, merci...” He sighed and smiled.

“You feel better?” Anita asked.

“Like a new man.”

Anita left him alone to dress. He said he would have Sam call and set up another appointment. Anita hugged him—hugged him?—goodbye and told him to enjoy the day, go for a walk, breathe fresh air.

He found a pay phone and dialed a number.

“Test results?” Søren asked as soon as Kingsley spoke.

“Not yet,” he said. “I find out tomorrow.”

“Do you want me to be with you?”

“No,” Kingsley said. “I think I need to do this alone.”

He didn’t want to be alone, but if the results weren’t what he wanted, Søren wouldn’t have to see him fall apart.

“I can respect that,” Søren said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this call, then?”

“I wanted to tell you I went to Rome.”

“So that’s where you disappeared to. Sam wouldn’t tell me when I called.”

“She’s overprotective,” Kingsley said, smiling to himself. He liked that Sam didn’t tell Søren where he was. The woman wasn’t afraid to annoy Søren. He should give her a raise. “I met your friend Magdalena.”

“What did you think of her?”

“She was very mean to me,” Kingsley said, an understatement. She’d taught him types of kink he’d never known existed, lectured him on consent and safe kink practice and forced him to practice with a whip until he, too, could split a business card in half. He wished he could have stayed longer.

“I warned you about her,” Søren said, laughing. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Did you miss me?”

“I missed being mean to you.”

“About that...” Kingsley said. “Are you busy today?”

“Why?”

“Do you want to beat me?”

“Kingsley, haven’t we had this talk?”

“Beat me in football,” he said. “I mean, do you want to play football with me again? Pardonnez-moi...soccer.” He felt unreasonably stupid right now, like a nervous teenager asking the most popular girl in school on a date. He’d never done that. He’d skipped the dating and gone right to the fucking. “You’re busy, aren’t you? And—”

“Kingsley.”

“Never mind. I forget you have a job.”

“Kingsley. Focus.”

“Quoi?”

“Yes. Come to my church,” Søren said, and Kingsley was certain he could hear Søren smiling. “Sacred Heart in Wakefield. Be there at five.”

“So, you do want to play with me?” Kingsley asked.

He heard Søren softly laugh. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Still smiling, Kingsley hung up and headed back to his town house to change clothes. He hadn’t seen Sacred Heart yet. He’d been waiting for an invitation, not wanting to force himself into Søren’s world. Now he found himself unexpectedly nervous. What if she was there? The new love? The Virgin Queen? Eleanor Louise Schreiber, thief of cars and hearts.

“So, how was it?” Sam asked as Kingsley walked into his office. “Did Anita work her magic?”

“I thought she was going to kill me. I’ve never been in so much pain in my life. And I’ve been shot four times.”

“So...”

“See if she can get me in again this week.”

“I told you she was a miracle worker,” Sam said.

“Speaking of miracles, I have to run. I have a date with a priest to play football.”

“Real football or fake European football?”

“Fake European football.”

“Soccer,” she said, with a wink and a finger point. “Something came for you while you were out.”

She handed him a padded envelope with his name on it and nothing else.

“Where did this come from?” Kingsley asked.

“Courier dropped it off. Why?”

“No reason,” he said. He ripped the envelope open. A mini-cassette tape slid out into his hand.

He looked at Sam. She shook her head in confusion. Kingsley walked around his desk, pulled out his tape player and stuck the tape in.