He’s quiet for a long moment, his fingers still moving slowly inside me, almost absentmindedly. Then he presses a soft kiss to my collarbone.
“That’s fair,” he says, voice low. “I haven’t exactly given you many reasons to love me.”
He finally pulls his fingers out of me, but he doesn’t move away. Instead, he wraps both arms around me and holds me tighter against his chest, like he’s afraid I’ll slip away if he loosens his grip.
“I know I’m fucked up,” he murmurs into my hair. “I know the way I want you isn’t …normal. But I do want you, Summer. Not just for your body. Not for revenge.I just want you.”
“Do you love me?” I ask.
He stills for a moment, then gently cups my face with both hands, forcing me to look at him. His amber eyes are raw, unguarded in a way I’ve never seen before. “From the moment I saw you,” he says, voice low and steady. “Yes.”
I gasp in surprise, my heart slamming against my ribs.
“I know it’s going to take a while for you to catch up,” he continues, thumb brushing my cheek. “I’ve got seven years on you. But I fucking hope you do soon.”
The confession hangs between us, heavy and terrifying and strangely beautiful. I don’t know what to say, my throat feels tight.
He leans in and kisses me, slowly, deeply, and achingly tender. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
“I’m not asking you to say it back,” he whispers. “I just needed you to know. I’ve been in love with you for a long time, Summer. Even when you had no idea who I was.”
I close my eyes, overwhelmed by his declaration. The man who has done terrible things to me just told me he’s been in love with me for seven years.
I don’t know if I’m terrified or relieved.
Maybe both.
13
SUMMER
Iwake up before Kairo. The room is still dark, the curtains blocking out the early light. Kairo is on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the other resting on his stomach, his breathing deep and even. He looks younger when he sleeps, the hard lines of his face softened, the jaw unclenched for once.
My body aches in ways I've lost count of. Yesterday was a lot, not just physically but emotionally too. He confessed he loves me, that he wants this marriage, that he wants to have a family with me, and that he’s been in love with me for seven years.Bullshit.There's a woman's name tattooed on his arm, a woman he told me means the most to him. If he's loved me for seven years, then who is she? He's lying. He’s playing me. Maybe this is all part of his plan for revenge, to have me fall in love with him, and then leave me. That would break me, and he did say he would break me.
I shift carefully onto my side and look at his inner forearm. The Greek letters are there, clean and black against his tanned skin. I've traced them before, in the shower, and he’s shut me down when I’ve questioned him over it. I need to know who she is, I don’t need a third in our marriage. I grab my phone fromthe nightstand while I slide out of bed, every muscle protesting. I come back to his side of the bed and zoom in on the lettering on his arm and take a photo of it. My heart is thumping wildly in my chest as the screen captures the Greek letters clearly. He doesn't stir, thank goodness, as I turn on my heel and slowly and silently rush out of our bedroom. The corridor is quiet and dark as I pad barefoot to the library, any moment wondering if he is going to wake up and bust me. Finally, I make it to the green chair where I open the phone, I pull up the photo and zoom in on the letters. My fingers tremble as I open a translation app and type them in one by one, matching each character to the Greek alphabet.
καλοκα?ρι
I hit translate.
My stomach drops out from under me.
It reads … Summer.
I stare at the screen as the word sits there, simple and impossible.
Summer.
It's me.
The name on his arm is me, and has been the whole time. I press the phone against my chest and close my eyes. Every time I asked about it, every time he said it was someone important, someone who means the most to him, he was talking about me. He tattooed my name on his body before he ever met me properly.
Before the wedding.
Before the island.
Before any of this.
