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‘Then?’ Mary asked as he helped with the hidden zip. And even though there had been a gap in conversation, from his smile they both knew she referred to the ‘then’ after Mykonos.
He gave her no answer, though. ‘Look at you!’
Mary stared at her reflection and barely recognised herself. She wore a pale mint shift dress, but it was not just a shift dress, for the hem and seams were visible and had been sewn in the palest gold thread, as had the butter-soft ballet pumps.
‘I thought you were going to cut the gold thread off,’ Mary admitted; she had assumed it was tacking.
‘For sure!’ Leo smiled. ‘You’ll kill them.’
‘Indeed she shall...’
The deep voice aimed a fresh arrow to her heart, but she yanked it out before she looked up. The arrow that was lodged straight in her pelvis remained, however, for Costa looked both terrible and stunning all at the same time.
Bruised, sulking, rumpled...
Her imagination ran riot, for he looked as if he’d just come off worse in some crazy fight in a casino, or fallen off a horse, but if that was the case why would he be wearing black trousers and a white shirt?
‘What happened?’ Mary asked, even as her mind danced with a million possibilities.
That aquiline nose had not been broken, for she could see it was perfectly straight, but she guessed he hadn’t shaved since their last meeting, for it was more than a couple of days’ growth he wore; it was practically a beard.
He was here, and as utterly beautiful as she remembered, yet he was more unpredictable than she could allow.
‘Much longer, Leo?’ he asked, instead of enlightening Mary.
‘All done.’ Leo smiled.
Costa thanked him in Greek, and Leo, who had been so kind to her, snapped something back.
‘Leo has a party to get to,’ Costa said, and so it was he who wheeled her new luggage out.
They walked in silence. Mary was cross and he was clearly exhausted. So much so that he closed his eyes when they took a seat at a taverna, and didn’t even open them to speak to an attentive waiter, just nodded to whatever he was offered.
A drink, it would seem, for two glasses were put down and liquor instantly poured.
When Mary declined, Costa snapped himself out of his reverie. ‘What would you like?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ Mary sulked.
He shook his head to the waiter, who drifted off.
She watched as he took up a carafe of water and added it to the liquor, which turned from clear to milky.
‘Would you like to order a drink before I apologise? I’d like to do it without the waiter here.’
‘Iced chocolate milk.’
‘Good.’ He called out her order and then took a drink.
‘Is that Pernod?’ Mary asked, because she’d heard of that and how it went cloudy.
‘Ouzo.’ He frowned at the irrelevance of her question, but glanced over at her. ‘Do you want to try it?’
He pushed the glass towards her and she felt a shiver.
Because he had no problem with sharing his glass.
Such a tiny thing to him.
