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In a deep, dark hole,he thought. From which there is no escape. But he smiled and said, “I’m told that the hotel roof is a great place to watch the night sky. Do you want to go?”
Rhys’s enthusiastic “Yes!” was enough to buoy them upstairs, and they spent the next hour stretched out on loungers, staring upwards, arguing about which star was which, and telling stories about the mythologies behind the constellations. And throughout the interlude, he was keenly aware of Melanie’s glances in his direction, the way she touched his arm when she wanted to get his attention. The message she was sending was clear: the feelings growing inside him were taking root in her too. That was wonderful. And awesome. And terrifying.
“Okay, buster,” he heard her say to Rhys. “It’s getting chilly up here. I think it’s time to head back downstairs and call it a night.”
Corbin expected protests, but it was clear that Rhys was worn out, because he didn’t argue as they returned to their floor. They said their goodnights and parted company, with Melanie and her son going into their room as he slipped into his. He felt his spirits dip. Tomorrow, they would be flying back home, and this interlude, the illusion he’d been fooling himself with that he once again had a family, would be over.
Except that it wasn’t over—at least, not yet. An hour later there was a tap at the door. He opened it to find Melanie standing there. Her hair was damp and had begun to curl around her face. He got the light scent of the lavender and chamomile shower hotel soap that he himself had just used. She dipped her chin and looked up at him through her lashes, asking softly, “Can I come in?”
He knew what she was asking, and his soul soared in response. Not trusting himself to speak, he stood aside to let her enter, then locked the door. She was not wearing her body cam. Neither was he.
He took her into his arms, battling the urge to speak, because he knew that if he did he would utter something unimaginably gauche and stupid. This woman deserved better than to listen to him blathering on. So he lifted her to himself and began to kiss her; occupying his lips like this was the perfect excuse for not speaking.
He took her to the bedroom and set her down there, shoving aside the origami towel elephant, along with two squares of dark chocolate provided by the housekeepers. Then he stretched out next to her, his need for her mounting with every passing second. She seemed as reluctant as he was to speak; he was grateful for that. Maybe tonight they would speak to each other with their bodies, their lips, hands and hearts. If they could stay inside that silent bubble and indulge in each other, connect with each other on such an elemental level, then there would be no need to say anything more.
Corbin feltMelanie jerk into a seated position next to him with a loud gasp. “Oh, my God! I fell asleep. What time is it?”
He sat up as well, his left shoulder numb from where her head had rested all night. He reached for his phone and checked it. “It’s only five-fifteen. Rhys would still be asleep, yes?”
She relaxed a little and gave a half smile. “Yes. I guess. I was afraid it was later. I didn’t want my son to witness his mother doing, you know…,” she blushed madly, “a walk of shame.”
He touched her cheek, brushed the hair from her eyes. “There is no shame in what we have done, Melanie.”
She thought about it for a while, and then nodded in agreement. “You’re right. This is good, isn’t it?” The covers had fallen from her body, and she was naked to his gaze, trigging a primal response within him so powerful that he had to look away to regain control. “You and me? Maybe we could talk to Rhys later? About us?”
She was glowing, even in the predawn dimness of the room, looking so radiant that it caused him physical pain. During the night, she had whispered that she loved him. And he had been fool enough to admit that he loved her too.
But dawn was a cruel time of day, because it brought the light with it. The sun would soon be blazing forth mercilessly, offering him no place to hide from his sins. He would have to confront his own reality. He hadn’t told her about Luca, and the fact that he had caused his death, for fear that she would reject him. She hadn’t, but that changed nothing. The fact that he loved her, and that she loved him, did not entitle him to be happy.
He got up and began to dress, turning his back to her so she couldn’t see his face.
“Corbin?” Her voice trembled, weighed down with dread. “What…?”
He shook his head, tongue-tied once more, but for different reasons. “We can’t, Melanie. We cannot do this.”
She gasped, an anguished sound. “What do you mean? I thought you and I… I thought we….”
“I wish we could, but we can’t be in a relationship. What happened last night was born of a moment of weakness. I am afraid I did not resist you when I should have—”
“At least have the courage to face me!” she demanded.
Good,he thought. There’s anger. That’s better than tears. He turned to her, schooling his features into an implacable mask. If he needed to do this, he needed to do it properly. Cleanly. Make sure it was truly over before it began. “I’m sorry. But there is no need to speak with your son. Because you and me… this will not happen again.”
He waited for a barrage of questions, a demand for an explanation. That might have made him feel better. Instead, he looked on in helpless anguish as she gathered up her clothes, dressing frantically as if every inch of bare flesh was vulnerable to his arrows. As she ran for the door he almost relented but stopped himself in time. She would be better off without him, he reminded himself.
The flightback to France was a nightmare. Rhys was worried by his mother’s pale face and distracted mood, but she played it off by telling him she had a migraine, so he let her be. Corbin brought him a new game for his portable console at the airport: anything to keep him distracted.
He collected his car at the airport and together they drove to Villeneuve, each trapped in their little silo. Each of them alone. “I will take you to the villa, and then go collect my dogs from the sitter, yes?”
She shrugged, not bothering to glance in his direction.
He parked near the stairs and got out, hurrying around to the trunk to extract their suitcases. Rhys helped, grunting as he lifted the bag holding a family of sculpted marble tortoises that the quarry had gifted him for the garden. “Do you want help with that?” he asked. “It’s heavy.”
Before Rhys could say yes or no, Melanie let out a scream so sharp that both he and Rhys dropped everything and raced towards her. She was standing on the porch, hands clasped to her mouth, eyes bulging in horror.
The entire façade was spray-painted with rude words, scribbles, and random shapes. Paint had been dumped on the new set of mahogany porch furniture, and someone had scored long marks into the perfect parquet flooring. The entire porch had been trashed.
Scrawled across the front door in black permanent marker was the tag, Children of Gaia.
