wouldn’t fill the space Claire had left in his chest by tunneling in there before pushing him away. In fact, it might make that cavern bigger. The question he couldn’t answer yet was why he’d let her go. Each week since the gala, he’d grown more convinced that only she could fill that gap.
“Sorry, but I’m not up to it.” He shimmied into his underwear beneath the towel, then tossed it aside and finished dressing.
Karina raised her brows and pushed herself upright. “Didn’t see that coming. May I ask why not?”
He supposed he could’ve been more tactful. Sighing, he defaulted to the world’s worst explanation because he hadn’t the mental energy to do better. “It’s not you. It’s me.”
She covered her face while chuckling, then waved both hands in the air. “Spare me the platitudes, Logan. We know each other too well for that. I’m not in love with you. I just need to take the edge off.”
He chuckled, relieved that he hadn’t hurt her feelings. “I’m sure there are plenty of guys who’d happily help you out with that.”
“Probably.” She stood, holding out one hand. “But I’m not up for strangers at the moment. I’m stuck with you. Let’s at least go get a few drinks to celebrate our last day in Greece. I know you wanted to focus on the unaccompanied kids, but we got better information on the long-tail mental-health crisis from our series of interviews with Dr. Passodelis and his patients. Those are the images I want. Do what you want with the others.”
He would. Maybe he’d partner with a gallery and an organization that assisted with refugee adoption to put on an exhibition to raise money and awareness. Perhaps that could lead to the rescue of children like young Aya and to the creation of new families.
Gesturing to the door, he said, “Let’s go. I saw a café on the corner.”
Logan swung open his condo door and rolled his luggage and equipment inside, grateful to bring an end to an interminable flight. He would need a good night’s sleep in his own bed after a month of practical insomnia, but jet lag would likely wreak havoc with his circadian rhythms for some time.
He tossed his keys on the counter, hit the lights, and went still.
Rich midnight-blue walls enveloped him, glowing in the warmth of soft lighting from new brass fixtures. He walked into the sophisticated yet comfortable living room, noting the handsome wool area rug and two square hammered copper planters in the corners, each now home to some kind of miniature citrus tree.
Floating shelves housed an antique camera, a collection of Duck’s first editions, and small pots of ivy. The entire room seemed anchored by the vibrant green sofa, which contained colorful pillows. Only one—a rectangular needlepoint pillow—looked a bit out of place.
He narrowed his gaze, then crossed to lift the pillow off the sofa to read the quote, which he immediately recognized from Duck’s work. “Her love kept him company, even in her absence.” A rush of warmth flooded Logan. He cradled the handmade pillow to his chest, his thumb gently stroking its stitching. Blinking three times, he pinched his nose to quiet the tingling sensation gathering there.
Continuing his tour, he admired his new round dining table and chairs, although he’d need more friends to make good use of them. His gaze bounced around the entire space, taking everything in while he walked toward the bedroom.
It looked strikingly similar to the images Claire’d shown him, so he wasn’t surprised until he took a closer look at the set of shadow boxes hung above the headboard. With the needlepoint pillow still tucked under one arm, he crawled across the mattress for a closer inspection of the two enlarged, beautifully matted images.
The first was of him and Duck sitting on the sandy shore near that old hammock; in the second, a family photo he didn’t recall, he straddled his father’s shoulders and Peyton was in their mother’s arms. He had no memory of that kind of family life. They all looked so happy in that photo it almost hurt to see. Family. Connection. Love.
For all the ways he’d criticized Claire for letting fear stop her from trying new things, he’d let fear stop him from grasping on to love.
He squeezed the pillow against his chest as if it could soften the blows of his heartbeat pounding against his ribs. This had all begun as a way to manage a happy ending for his sister, but