in a waterproof bag and swim it out whenever I finish what’s here. It doesn’t make much sense to have a quiet space to sit and think if you don’t have a bottle of wine with you, at the very least.”
She lifted the wine bottle in a mock solute, then took a drink of it. “Amen to that.”
We grew quiet for a while as we watched the sun drop toward the horizon, the peace and quiet around us so comfortable that I didn’t think there was any need for words.
Eventually we started talking again, the world around us lighting up with pinks and oranges in the sunset. We talked about our childhoods and what we’d wanted to be when we grew up. We talked about first dates and favorite college experiences.
She asked why I had so many clothes in her size in the house, and I told her that when I first bought the house, I’d imagined that one day I might entertain there; that I might have people staying over who needed clothes. So I’d bought a whole range of things and had them stored in a room I never used. But I’d never managed to throw the house parties I’d once imagined—mostly because I hadn’t wanted to have that many people around me.
We talked about the paths that had led us to that very moment in time. I told her that I’d never brought anyone else to this beach, and that I’d never intended to… until I met her.
And by the time the sun was disappearing and I told her that we needed to get back, I was absolutely convinced of two things: First, I’d never met a woman like her in my entire life, and second, I was absolutely never going to be able to let her go.
Which meant, of course, that I had some very big, very important decisions to make. Before her flight home to Texas in two days.
Chapter 28
Trish
By the time I truly looked up again, I was on my last day on the island, having gone through two full days of nonstop action—including, but not limited to, the trip to the secret beach, a twilight gallop across the plains on the horses, so that we could watch the sunrise from the other side of the island, and an entire day spent laying by the pool doing nothing but drinking wine and talking about life.
I was due to fly home at noon the next day, and I felt as though I knew Nikos better than I’d ever known him… and yet had absolutely no clue about what he actually wanted. In fact, we’d had so many near-kisses that I was starting to label then in my head: Near-kiss #1, Near-kiss #2, Near-kiss #345.
It was getting a little bit old. I had loved every minute of my time on the island, and every single second I spent with Nikos himself. But I was now on the point of leaving, and he had yet to tell me anything that even remotely resembled the reason for him continuing to push me away.
Or at least… well, I guess the reason for him not even letting me get all the way to the core of him would have been a better way to put it.
He hadn’t told me whether he wanted to stay or go. So when I took a shower on that last afternoon there, I had already started forcing myself to let go of the man I’d fallen in love with over the last two weeks.
Once I got out of the shower, I put on some makeup, then stared at myself in the mirror and lectured the girl I saw there about having fallen in love with someone who wasn’t ready to fall in love with her. I gave her a very firm talking-to about keeping her heart inside her chest, rather than pinning it right to her sleeve, and about protecting herself on this, her last night with the hot Greek doctor who had saved her life.
Then I turned and made my way to the kitchen for our last dinner together.
To honor our new tradition, we were making moussaka again. Only this time, Nikos wasn’t teaching me how to do it, step-by-step. This time, we were doing it together, as partners.
Once we got into it we were like a smoothly oiled machine, flying through the motions. Which meant not only that it went much more quickly—and we could add additional dishes—but also that we could drink