This was the first time I had traveled to London, or for that matter, anywhere, ever since I left the hospital, but it had worked out well. I only met with Logan and worked on a new investment projection alone, but it still felt good to leave the castle. Even my back didn’t hurt. I ran my hand along the large raised scar on my thigh. Actually, even my leg was feeling a lot stronger. Though I’d had a long day it did not throb or ache.

Perhaps all my pain was in my mind.

By the time I arrived home it was nearly midnight. The first thing I did was pull apart my drapes to see if Charlotte’s light was still on. It wasn’t, but the little bedside lamp in Zackary’s room must have been on, because it’s greenish light filled his window.

I frowned. Surely, he was not still awake at this time.

I picked up my phone and called Barnaby to ask him to go check on Zackary. But as if on cue, the light in Zackary’s room went off and seconds later the light came on in her room. Her curtains were open and I could see her walking around her room. She must have been with my son until now.

“Sir?” Barnaby’s voice came through.

I had been so engrossed watching Charlotte I had forgotten I was still holding the intercom phone. “Sorry for the trouble, Barnaby,” I said. “I thought I needed something, but it turns out I don’t.”

“That’s quite all right, Sir. Goodnight,” he said formally.

I wished him goodnight and disconnected the call. Slipping my hands into my pockets I watched her. She had a curvy figure. The kind I liked. Or I used to like. It was so many years ago that I last had even the desire for a woman, I had forgotten how my body felt when I was craving a woman. From this distance she did not look middle aged. She looked to be in her twenties.

I dialed her room number and waited for her to respond.

“Hello?” she said, and I noted the thrill that raced down my flesh.

“Did Zackary just fall asleep?”

“No, he didn’t,” she said. “I was reading him a story, but somehow I ended up putting the both of us to sleep.” The amusement in her tone filtered through and it made me long for a bliss I had never known.

The words left my lips before I could stop them. “I wish I could fall asleep that easily.”

“You have trouble falling asleep?”

“Yes,” I said slowly. This was not exactly the conversation I wanted to have with one of my staff.

“My mother has insomnia too. It is a remnant from the months before my father passed away.”

“I’ve never been compared to someone’s mother before.”

“I’m so sorry,” I didn’t mean in that way. “I mean …”

“Charlotte, relax. It was a bad joke. I’m afraid I’m not used to talking to people anymore.”

“Oh,” she said, the relief in her voice was obvious.

“What did your father pass away from?”

I could hear her hesitation but she eventually said, “Cancer. It was a long and painful battle.”

“My condolences.” I could have kicked myself for probing. What was wrong with me? I was behaving like an insensitive prick.

“It’s all right. It’s been almost seven years now so the pain is no longer as devastating.”

“No longer as devastating,” I repeated turning the statement over in my mouth. “Is that really true? Does it ever completely heal?”

“No,” she replied quietly. “It doesn’t. Even when you think it has … it comes back … as fresh as ever, to taunt you with what you lost and can never have back.”

We both knew we were no longer talking about her father. There was an awkward pause. Neither of us knew how to fill it. I heard her take a quick intake of breath.

“You took Zackary out to play today?” I blurted out.

“I did,” she said quickly. “We made kites and harassed each other with water balloons. We had a blast, literally.” She chuckled to herself.

I found my lips stretching into a smile. It was something that happened often when I was talking to her and hardly at all when I wasn’t.

“I have pictures,” she said, “but … how do I send them to you?”

“Do you have a USB stick?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Save the pictures on it and pass it to Barnaby.”

“I’ll give it to him in the morning,” she said.

“Do you mind if I … er … send him to you to tonight?”

“Of course. I’ll be awake for at least another hour.”

“Thank you. Have a goodnight then, Charlotte.”

“Wait … I mean.” She laughed nervously, “I just wanted to say thank you for allowing Zackary to spend time outside. He had a wonderful time today.”

“It was your suggestion. It is I who must thank you,” I said.

“I’m glad to be able to help,” she said softly.

At that moment, all I wanted was to see her face. Know who I was talking to. That was also the moment I knew I had to end the conversation. I was getting too close. “Well, goodnight then.”

“Brett?” she called, there was a hint of desperation in her voice.

“Yes.”

“Do you think … would it be possible for you to make some time to spend with Zackary?”

The idea was like a knife in my heart. She had no idea how much I wanted that. In the tense silence she rushed to explain herself. “It’s just that he drew you today. We made a kite and he drew you and his mother. I told him that perhaps the three of you could fly it together someday soon.”

“Zackary is terrified of me,” I said, my voice sounded harsh with pain.

She did not hesitate. “It didn’t seem that way,” she said. “In fact, he said … he said that he—” she stopped.

“What did he say?” I asked, and even I could hear how desperately eager I sounded.

“That you smiled a lot. He drew you with a big smile, but he said he had not seen you in a long while.”

“Half my face has been gouged out. Did he somehow include that in his drawing?” I asked bitterly.

I heard her draw a sharp breath. “No,” she replied. “He drew you with a mask, and painted the smile on top of the mask. You are his father and he loves you.”

I think I cried once in my adult life. One night when I didn’t want to fight anymore. When the pain was so great and the end seemed so pointless. That one night in a dark pit of despair I thought about ending it all, but it was my love for Zackary that kept me going. Through it all it was him. Hearing her say those words, made a single tear run down my face. I lifted my hand and touched it. Always it was him that could make me cry. “If you can, tell him I love him,” I said and cut the connection.