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If she could, she thought—if she was someone else—she would reach over and try to soothe him with her hands. She scowled down at her fingers, clenched around the tablet with too many tabloids and still sporting those too-bright rings he’d put there, as if they’d betrayed her.
“You can do whatever you want, Mattie,” Nicodemus said, and she hated everything about this. That she felt caught up in whatever this new thing between them was, tighter and harsher and so much narrower. That she hurt—and more for him and that light she missed seeing in his eyes than anything else.
She didn’t dare ask herself what that meant.
“And if I want to leave you?” she heard herself say, because she couldn’t stop.
“Anything but that,” he said, his voice harsh, and when his phone rang again he swiped it up from the table, though his dark eyes stayed on her. “We’ll suffer in this together. I know I already made that clear.”
And then he directed all of his attention back to his work, and Mattie knew she had no one to blame for that dark and heavy thing squatting on her chest but herself.
That night they worked together in the kitchen, putting together one of the simple meals they’d been living on here. A fresh salad. Homemade pita bread warmed in the oven and placed in a basket. A plate with a hunk of feta and tangy local olives, drenched in a gold-green olive oil. Lamb that Nicodemus had prepared matter-of-factly and quickly on the grill, then placed on the plates Mattie carried out to the table on the terrace.
It occurred to her as they settled across from each other that they’d developed their own rhythm in these past days. That this was what married couples did, this quiet dance of shared food and a laden table. Candles against the cool October air and no need for conversation.
It occurred to her that despite everything, despite what she’d done to avoid it, this was the most intimate she’d ever been with a person she wasn’t related to.
The insight was like a slap to the head and she sat there for a moment, staring at Nicodemus in dismay. Because this was precisely why he was doing all of this, she understood. Even if he was angry with her, he was still creating bonds between them that had nothing to do with their decade of games or that sexual tension that burned between them even now. He was making this—him—a habit.
This was exactly what she didn’t want. What she couldn’t allow.
“What now?” he asked, reaching out to drag a soft square of the pita bread through the olive oil, then popping it in his mouth. He sat back in his chair as he chewed, but the way he looked at her was anything but indulgent.
“I think it’s time you explained to me what happened the other day in the kitchen,” she blurted out. “Most men would be transported with delight if they received an unsolicited blow job.”
Was that a muscle that twitched in his jaw? Or did she only want it to be because it indicated she still affected him? How could she know her own motivations so little?
“I am not most men.”
“Obviously.” She sat much too rigidly in her seat, and found that her appetite had deserted her. She shoved the perfectly grilled lamb around on her plate. “You’ve been punishing me ever since.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” He seemed unperturbed, and continued to eat with every appearance of contentment. “Punishment can take many forms, but none, I think, involve whiling away your days on a beautiful island with nothing to do but relax.”
“That depends on the company.”
“Here’s the thing, Mattie.” His gaze flared into something else. Something so blisteringly hot it robbed her of breath. “I’ve done all this before. The pretty girl. The endless, circular lies. I already know how it ends.”
She didn’t like that flare of prickly heat that washed over her, because she knew exactly what it was, and she’d never been jealous of anything before in her life. Damn him.
“Are you trying to tell me that I don’t measure up to your ex?” she asked tautly. “They say comparison is the thief of joy, Nicodemus. Maybe that’s why you’re so grumpy all the time.”
He looked like he wanted to bite at her, and she shouldn’t have thrilled to that.
“I don’t find all the insults and digs and snide remarks amusing anymore,” he grated at her.
“Why not?” she asked, and she didn’t know how she dared. Or why her voice was so tiny when she did. “I thought you knew how it ends.”
“What I thought was a game we were both playing was something else entirely to you,” he said with a quiet menace that rolled through Mattie like a seismic event, and paled in comparison to that look in his dark eyes. “I wasn’t lying. You were.”
