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‘I was hoping we could work it out.’
She frowned.
‘Together.’
She stood so still, yet there was absolute movement in her soul. For she felt as if he was stepping into the empty space contained within it.
‘You were worth more to me than any jewellery,’ Costa told her, and offered his arm again.
On shaky legs Mary walked towards his suite.
‘You are the first person since my father whose leaving has mattered.’
They were at his door, but he did not go in.
‘I lied too, for I do have some good memories. He taught me to swim, to fish... I loved him. But one day he decided it was all too much and just walked away.’
‘I’m so sorry.’ She looked into those stunning eyes and the firewall was momentarily down, for there was old pain and confusion swirling there.
And so they just leant on the door, as if they were back lying in the pool, holding on to the edge and floating in the water.
‘I love my mother—you know that. But I wanted to be a kid, and a teenager too. I wanted school rather than work—fun rather than the constant fight to make ends meet and to care for her. I wanted liberty and I swore I would get it some day. It has taken me more than two decades to wrestle Anapliró from developers’ hands. I did up the family home, and I got that final piece of land back the day before we met. My duty was finally done and I could distance myself some more... I planned to see Yolanda for her appointments in Athens, and such, but I was ready for a life alone—or to be like ships that pass in the night on the occasional visit home.’
‘Beholden to no one?’
‘Yes,’ Costa said. ‘But it’s more complicated now.’
Of course it was. Yolanda wanted old promises kept and her son close by—and lots of big babies to smother in her love...
Mary knew that could never be for her. And not just because she was an outsider, but because she could never, ever leave her father behind.
‘Shall we go in?’ he asked.
They were still in the plush corridor, Mary realised. She stepped back from the door they were leaning on and he swiped it with his key card. She knew it would be far wiser to leave now. It bleeped with a red light and Costa swore in Greek.
He seemed... She frowned, because this very assured man seemed nervous as he swiped it again.
And then the door swung open and the very breath was stolen from her throat.
There were balloons.
Hundreds of balloons.
Gold, silver, pink and red, they floated or stood trailing delicate ribbons.
Mary walked through them slowly, looking up, looking around, and fourteen years of missed celebrations were erased.
‘Cake!’ she croaked.
‘Sokolatopitaon one side,’ Costa told her. ‘Strawberry Fraisier on the other...’
She had never imagined that he might be so romantic. It had never entered her head that this man could take all the broken pieces of her and knit them together again.
But then smash it all on his inevitable way out...
‘I love you,’ she told him, and yet she kept her arms by her side. ‘But I think you already know that. Please don’t take advantage of the fact.’
‘Who’s taking advantage?’
