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‘Forget it,’ Costa said, and held her closer.
Mary fought to get back to being fine.
But Costa had been right: shewasa liar—because she wanted more than a weekend. She wanted to demand to know where the hell he and RouIa had disappeared to. She wanted to command him never to let her go, to let her stay with him always.
She couldn’t help herself. ‘Where were you and Roula...?’
‘I wanted her to speak with Mia, and arrange to take up champagne and some food to get the house ready for Yolanda tomorrow. Why?’
‘I just wondered...’
It would have to do. For now, for tomorrow, for ever.
And if the moon and the stars would just hold their place, if the music would never stop, then they might never have to move on from this moment.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THEFALSESUMMERwas over.
Mary woke to a day on Anapliró that was silvery grey and yet still exquisite.
She could see the beautiful sea churning from where she lay. She and Costa were spooned into each other, and possibly, Mary decided, she had played the part of fake girlfriend a little too well, for he was trying to justify why he couldn’t take her with him.
‘I would ask you to come today,’ Costa said, ‘but I need to speak to Yolanda away from here.’
‘Of course.’ She tried to pull her lips into a smile, even though she was facing away from him. ‘That’s for the two of you. I understand.’
‘Even so...’
‘Hey, you promised me Sunday off,’ Mary said.
He rolled away and onto his back as she reminded him of all they had agreed to.
‘I want to go and look at the shops...’ She turned and moved towards him, looking him square in the eye as she lied. ‘And I want—’
‘I get it... I get it. You’re fine with the arrangement.’
He showered and dressed, and only when he had left to collect Yolanda did she let her smile fade.
How was she supposed to leave someone she loved? Did she wave, or smile, or did she just make it easier on her heart and disappear now? Take the ferry to Thira, maybe? Just be gone?
It seemed rude, but somehow kinder to her heart.
The coffee was strong, but nothing could clear the mist in her head.
Mary started to pack, but though she had done that more times than she could begin to count, this time it was agony. It was like trying to squeeze her heart into the case, and she was sitting there defeated, nowhere near packed, when there was a knock at the door.
He’d come back, she thought, with a surge of delight, and she almost ran to the door naked. But then, realising Yolanda might be there with him, she pulled on a wrap and flung open the door.
‘Nemo?’ She frowned, for he stood there in his uniform with a female security guard at his side.
‘This is my colleague,’ Nemo said, as she met his blank brown eyes. ‘There have been complaints of things going missing.’
‘I’m sorry?’ Mary shook her head. ‘We haven’t had any trouble. At least—’
‘Since you arrived,’ Nemo cut in. ‘I need to check your things.’
‘No!’ Mary went to close the door, but his foot moved to halt it. ‘You can wait until Costa is back,’ she told him.
